The Last Queen

A Cerridwen Press Publication

www.cerridwenpress.com

The Last Queen ISBN 9781419909733 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. The Last Queen Copyright © 2007 Christine McKay Edited by Jaynie Ritchie & Ann Leveille. Cover art by Philip Fuller. Electronic book Publication July 2007

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®

THE LAST QUEEN Christine McKay

Dedication For Kim and Kate, the co-authors of my very first story, written way back in sixth grade. I pray that monstrosity never surfaces.

Trademarks Acknowledgment The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation

The Last Queen

PART ONE

Chapter One Adrianne Harris hated flying. The long waits at the terminals, the near-strip search at security, the inevitable child who kicked the back of her seat throughout the flight, the fat man who should have booked two seats whose rolls she ended up sharing in her already cramped seat, the woman who believed perfume was meant to be bathed in, the clichéd crying baby; she detested it all. Today’s show happened to be “woman with colicky baby”. Thankfully both mother and child spent much of their time walking the aisle. Home was too far away yet. Dallas to Minneapolis. Minneapolis to Green Bay. She longed for the last connecting flight where exhausted travelers like herself simply collapsed in sleep. No necessary conversations between seatmates, no networking required. Closing her laptop, she glanced out the window. Another one of her peeves was being put in the window seat. She preferred the less claustrophobic aisle seat, but the flight was packed with travelers heading home for Thanksgiving. She gritted her teeth. How did other business travelers handle this din? Probably traveled first class or wore earplugs. She had enough frequent flier miles to upgrade to first class, but she wanted to save them for a trip to someplace warm. One more class to teach, one more bored, bleary-faced group of techies to face, then she’d have a quiet few weeks off to sequester herself from the holiday festivities. She had no family to celebrate with. Her adoptive parents had been in their mid-forties when she came into their lives. Mom died of breast cancer when Adrianne was twenty. Dad pined away after that, leaving her alone at twenty-two. Luckily, she stumbled across Nikki, her current roommate, confidante, sister and sometimes mother. They made the best of it. And there was Doug and his family. She made a face. It took a lot of wine to make Doug’s family tolerable. Doug was a hotshot in bed. Nikki referred to him as Adrianne’s “boy toy”. Their relationship had waxed hot and cold for two years now. Despite that, she picked up a pricey pair of cowboy boots for him while in Texas. Her lips curved. She couldn’t wait to see him in them, wearing nothing else. The plane lurched. The flight attendant caught the headrest of the seat beside her, her smile firmly plastered on her face. “Just some turbulence, nothing to worry about. We’re probably heading into a snow squall.”

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The baby beside her woke with a start, lifted its head from its mother’s shoulder and began fussing again. Adrianne sighed. The mother gave her a harried apologetic frown. “Heading home for the holidays?” Adrianne tapped her notebook. “Business.” The mother bounced the baby. It made Adrianne nauseous just looking at the motion. “Young single career woman. I envy those days,” the mother muttered. “Karen Anhalt, former associate of Bruins, Baker, and Shimek. I’d give you my hand but it’s covered in baby slime.” “That’s quite all right.” Adrianne knew she should have kept her face to the window. So many conversations on planes went nowhere. She had a tension headache building at the base of her skull, a sure sign a migraine was on its way. Sighing, she resigned herself to being polite. “So what do you do?” Karen persisted, waiting while Adrianne worked the tension out of her neck with her fingertips. “Excuse me?” Karen gestured to the laptop. “Day trader, travel agent, secretary to some mucketymuck in first class?” “Nothing nearly so exciting. I teach computer classes.” “Oh.” A blank stare from Karen as she struggled for common ground. The plane lurched again. “Damn it,” both said in unison. Ah, common ground. They smiled at each other. The headache continued to build. Adrianne switched from kneading her neck to rubbing her temples. “Heading home?” she asked. “No, the in-laws.” Karen pasted a false smile on her face. “I haven’t seen my husband in two weeks, though, and he’s meeting me there.” She switched the baby to her opposite shoulder. “Sometimes I envy the baby-free single years.” Adrianne couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She’d seen so many of her coworkers go through the same thing. “I’ll hold your baby if you want to take a moment to wash the cottage cheese out of your hair.” She put a hand to her hair. “That bad? I wondered if she missed the burp towel.” Adrianne wrinkled her nose. “Not very appealing. Especially since you haven’t seen your husband in a while.” “I appreciate the thought.” She carefully handed her child to Adrianne. Adrianne didn’t have much experience with children but at least she knew how to hold a baby, thanks to all her coworkers’ voyages into motherhood. She hoped the baby slime could be washed out of her wool coat. Karen rose gracefully on three-inch heels and headed for the plane’s lavatory.

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The baby fussed and Adrianne bounced her, trying to keep the drool off her tweed pants. Thankfully her hair was braided, well out of reach of chubby fingers. She glanced out the window. Snow sliced the sky in jagged popcorn-sized pellets. Sleet. A fair bit of it coated the plane’s wings. The red lights on the wingtips bathed the triangular expanse of silver in blood light. Adrianne bit back a stab of panic, chalked up the nervousness to an overactive imagination and cursed her father for reading her Stephen King novels as bedtime stories. The pilot probably flew in this stuff all the time. There was nothing to worry about. The plane jiggled again. Karen returned to her seat, with damp hair and a worried expression on her face. “Thank you. That was disgusting.” Adrianne smiled politely and handed back the baby. “No problem.” There, she’d done her good deed for the day. Now she just wanted to land safely and get on with the last leg of her flight. The “Please Fasten your Seat Belts” light flashed. Adrianne tucked the laptop in her carrying case. “My husband’s meeting me at the airport.” Karen held her baby tighter. “How much farther, do you think?” The airline stewardess heard the question. “We’re circling the airport now.” She looked unconcerned. “We’re not the only one circling,” Adrianne said in a low voice. She leaned back in her seat. “Take a look.” Karen tilted forward as far as her seat belt and baby allowed. Winking lights dotted the sky around them. The baby fussed inches from Adrianne’s face. She prayed she wouldn’t be spit up on. Her silk tee cost her sixty dollars and was dry clean only. “Dear Lord.” Karen sat back, her face pale. “How many times do we have to circle?” Adrianne whispered. The fat man behind them grumbled about being late. In front of them, the elderly woman’s rosary beads clattered on the serving tray as she set them down to fasten her seat belt. The pilot’s voice came over the speaker, loud and too cheerful. “We’ll be descending shortly. The flight attendants will be going through some procedures to ensure a safe landing. These are just precautions due to the weather. The runways are a bit icy.” “And we don’t have enough fuel to fly to another airport?” Adrianne grumbled. How long would they circle? She just wanted to be home. To have a warm bath in her own bathtub and sleep undisturbed for ten to twelve hours. Was that so much to ask? “O’Hare could be closed down too.” Karen flipped out her cell phone. “My husband will know what’s going on down there.”

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“Sorry, ma’am. No cell phones or laptops may be on at this time,” the stewardess instructed. “Yes, of course.” Karen cradled the phone between her chest and the baby, but did not put it away. “You will be assuming a crash position with your feet flat on the ground, head in your lap, hands laced over the back of your neck. You may continue to hold your baby but we’d prefer if she was secured in a car seat. There is an open seat behind you.” The stewardess held out her arms. “No, you certainly may not take my baby.” She cupped the child closer to her, cradling its head with her hand. “What is wrong with the plane?” Karen demanded. “Ma’am, please keep your voice down. You’ll distress the other passengers.” The flight attendant gave her a stern look. A bead of sweat ran down the edge of her face, tracing a track through her makeup. “I’m a damn passenger too.” Adrianne’s head began to throb. Oh, it was going to be one heck of a headache. She fumbled for the bottle of ibuprofen in her purse and swallowed two pills down dry before a stewardess could remind her to secure her purse. Beside her, Karen argued with the stewardess. Adrianne glanced over her shoulder. The fat man was having trouble following instructions. A stewardess gave him a pillow instead, something to cover his face with. Adrianne’s ears popped. The stewardess left them to buckle herself up. Karen pulled free her cell phone and dialed a number. The baby continued to fuss. “Eric. I’m so glad you picked up. What?” Panic laced the last word. “They can’t be for our plane. Yes. Yes. Oh God. Yes, I love you.” Her voice elevated, high-pitched, frightened. “I love you,” she repeated, then abruptly calmed, the lawyer’s mask settling over her features. “I have to go now. I’ll see you on the ground.” The phone clicked off. Karen turned to Adrianne. “We’re going to die,” she said calmly.

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Chapter Two Adrianne swallowed back the bile at the base of her throat. It was just the coating on the pills, nothing more. “What do you mean?” Her head rested in her lap, as instructed, but she turned it enough to see the quiet angst on Karen’s face. “There are fire trucks and ambulances on the runway. Airport personnel cleared out one of the terminals.” Adrianne sat up so quickly her head spun and she almost vomited. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she glanced out the window. The ground loomed up before them. Red and blue lights gleamed as far as she dared to look. She hastily put her head in her lap. “What did you see?” “Hang on!” The plane lurched, bounced, hit the runway. She had flown enough times to know it was all wrong. The shrill scream of metal meeting pavement filled her ears. Oh lord, no tires, she thought, the plane has no running gear. The plane belly-flopped down the runway, the shriek of metal cutting through her like a knife. Passengers screamed. In front of her, someone quietly recited prayers. It was this voice she heard, over the highpitched whine of the engines, the hiss of shredding metal. An oasis of peace in the midst of chaos. “Remember, oh most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, implored thy help, that sought your intercession was left unaided.” Please, God. Please, God. Adrianne couldn’t help herself. She looked up. They were sliding sideways down the runway, heading straight for the terminal. All she could think about was how bad her head ached. Karen was quietly sobbing, face pressed to her baby’s neck. “I fly unto you, oh Virgin of Virgins, my mother, to thee I come, before thee, I stand…oh God.” The voice choked on a sob. Stop it. Stop it! Adrianne’s vision blurred. The pressure was unbearable. Stop it! They stopped. Abruptly, as if hitting a wall. Her seat belt cut into her, her body thrusting against it until she thought she’d be cut in two. She raised her head and looked out the window. The terminal loomed before them. They had stopped before striking it. “Despise not my petitions, but in your mercy, hear and answer me, I pray.” A rhythmic mantra, not unlike what she recited when doing yoga. Adrianne held on to

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that, forcing herself to breathe calmly despite the screams echoing around her. She would not vomit. She would not! For the briefest of moments, silence reigned. Her head throbbed. She tasted metal. Karen raised her head. “Are we dead?” “I hurt too bad to be dead.” The smell of smoke assaulted her nostrils. So much for deep calming breaths. She coughed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her coat. The flight attendants were mobile again, instructing people to move. Side doors kicked open with popping noises. She couldn’t see straight. The smoke clogged her vision and her lungs. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass of the window. Rescue vehicles, lights blaring, sped down the runway. Somehow she knew they’d be too late. Beside her, Karen fought with her seat buckle. The baby was finally silent. Adrianne reached over and freed her. Flames licked the seats. People collapsed on top of each other in their haste to escape. Flight attendants shouted unheeded instructions. I’m going to die. Adrianne tugged on her seat buckle. It was stuck tight, button depressed. She jerked on the strap again. The webbing was twisted not once, but twice, the kink jammed in the seatbelt adjuster. If she was truly going to die, she didn’t want to be found sitting calmly in her seat, like she was waiting for the bus to Purgatory. If Nikki had been with her, she’d have a knife or at the very least, a scissors, something she could use to hack away at her strap. Behind her, the fat man shrilled. A roll of his own body engulfed the seat buckle, his sausage fingers fumbled, uselessly seeking the strap. Flames crept up his pants legs. Polyester, she noted with a sick sense of detachment, as the pants ignited immediately. Great gobs of flesh blackened and dripped off his thighs. She turned her head away and vomited. “Come on!” Karen called to her. The acrid taste burned her throat. “My seat belt’s stuck. Go on. Get out of here!” To her credit, Karen looked torn. “Hurry!” Adrianne gave her a shove into the aisle. “I’ll tell the stewardess,” Karen promised, but both knew the uselessness of those words. Karen elbowed her way into the throng and was crushed against the seat in front of them. Adrianne saw blood trickle out of her mouth before the smoke hid her from view. Oh lord. She wanted to cry. She really did, but the tears wouldn’t come. Instead, she rested her forehead against the seat in front of her, unable to force herself to watch anything more. The flames crept over the toes of her sensible running shoes. She should have worn a nice pair of dress boots. Now Nikki’d have to identify her body in a mismatched

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outfit. She could just hear Nikki clucking in distress. The shoelaces ignited. The plastic and rubber melted around her feet. She felt nothing. Was this how death felt? An absence of pain? If so, why was the fat man still screaming? Or was she so in shock she felt nothing? On cue, the fat man’s voice died. The cuffs of her pants smoldered. Pressing her face to the glass, the last remnant of coolness, she closed her eyes and prayed death would be quick.

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Chapter Three In the quiet stillness of a never-changing dusk, in an abyss where nothing dwelt only slept and waited, twenty pairs of brilliant crimson eyes opened, then blinked in unison. The strum of a heartbeat began, faltered, started again and steadied. Several lifetimes away, a mechanical bird came to a screeching halt on an expanse of blacksheened ground. The Hunter opened his eyes. They shone in the dark light, casting their own beams of light. He flexed each finger, formed a fist and released. His chest rose and fell. Stale air flushed through his system, sent blood pumping to his dormant extremities. The air swirled around him, yet the movement was soundless. As one, everyone listened. There was another heartbeat. Faint. Somewhere, a Dragoness lived. How was that possible? He tipped his head, shifting in his formless gray couch. He had killed them all, had hunted the Dragoon to extinction. His lips curled into a smile at the memories, the taste of hot blood upon his lips, the hiss of breath as a nearly immortal creature died in his grasp. Twenty pair of crimson eyes watched his every movement. Impossible. No female of their race survived. Yet, here he was awake and the hounds as well. The hounds lolled around him, still, eyes focused on him for confirmation of what they sensed as well. Where did she now hide? What planet’s genetics could have possibly given birth to her? And most importantly, what feat of strength had she performed to rouse him? A single transformation may have gone unnoticed. He had lain asleep for so long this time. What powers did she possess? Each Dragoness was slightly different, some telekinetic, some prophetic. All died the same. He frowned. The high psi presented a challenge but they were so rare the possibility could almost be dismissed immediately. Almost. He had killed a high psi once, paid her lover to drive a blade into her heart. The shock of betrayal wounded her as much as the kiss of steel. His bloodless lips stretched into a smile. When he and his kind were birthed, it was for the sole purpose of the eradication of the Dragoon. Like vermin, the Dragoon multiplied, conquered and spread. Then they chose to challenge the Shindar. His maker. The Ancients. He was the last of his kind, a fact that did not escape his notice. A Dragoness possessing all the psychic gifts would require him to be at his peak. He was not. He hungered. His hunger made him weak. That needed to be remedied.

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The universe spread out before him in an infinitesimal number of burning specks of light. As he watched, one began to burn brighter. The second heartbeat in the chamber strengthened. The light in the sky blazed, swelled to the size of a small star, then shrank. There. She lived there. He stood. His hounds crept forward on their bellies, then crouched at his feet. Black as a starless night, their collars were tanned bits of dragon flesh spiked with gruesome trophies—teeth, finger bones, claws. His cell was a mere bubble of air on a dead planetoid, nestled and camouflaged in a crater. Two strides to his left was his ship. The irresistible urge to be off, to find her, grew. As did his hunger. The Hunter stroked the bravest hound’s head. He needed to feed first, to regain his strength. Only then could he extinguish his ancient enemy. He felt her heart beat like it was his own. When he held it in his hands and watched it take its last beat, his job would be done. Until then, the craving for the last Dragoness’ blood was impossible to ignore.

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Chapter Four Adrianne drifted. She vaguely heard someone shout, “Damn it all, this one’s alive. Help me.” Too many hands touched her. She tried to push them away. Tried to speak too, but she couldn’t find her voice. It came out as a croak. Straps were laid over her body. Her arms were bound flat to her sides. She fought, twisted, screamed in that croaking voice she didn’t recognize as her own. A cool hand touched her forehead. Soothing words surrounded her like a mantra of prayer. Time blurred. Harsh lights, the antiseptic glare of what she guessed were surgical lights greeted her. Her senses seemed hyper-alert. She could feel her heart beat within her, the scratchy fabric of the gown against her skin, the whispered breath of someone beside her. “Not a thing wrong with her. Not a mark.” More murmurings, more awe, the pulsation of an X-ray machine tickled her senses. “Minor smoke inhalation. Shocky.” “You’d be in shock too if you were buried beneath a pile of burning bodies.” A brusque voice. “How did she escape? That’s what I want to know.” “Not a clue, not a frickin’ clue. I think, gentlemen, we just witnessed a miracle.” Someone snorted. “Let’s keep that out of the media, shall we?” “Too late for that. It’s already on the news.” All the voices paused. She could even hear the scrape of their feet as they turned to watch the television. She opened her eyes. Four men or women, she couldn’t tell, dressed in scrubs, faced away from her. A police officer faced the television as well. And on the screen, the smoking ruins of her plane. The all-too-cheerful face of a reporter smiled back at her. She despised how they could talk murder in one breath and switch to teasing about the weather in the next. “And here it came to a sudden stop. Mrs. Alice Sebring was an eyewitness to its amazing, and some say, miraculous halt,” the reporter was saying, her bright yellow ski jacket flecked with snow. An older woman, her hair heavily sprinkled with gray, clutched a red purse in one hand, a rosary in the other. Her face wore a beatific expression. “A miracle,” she said, raising her hands and looking upward. “The plane was heading right for us.” She gestured to the terminal behind her. “Then it stopped. Like the hand of God swooped down and stopped it. It didn’t hit anything. It just stopped.” “A miracle,” the reporter repeated. “Even more amazing, we have reports that there is a survivor.”

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Adrianne’s photo ID from her work badge flashed onto the screen. They would have to pick that picture, she thought. Her only chance of ever being on the news and they had to pick a crummy photo. Her shoulder-length blonde hair looked washed out, limp, her skin sallow instead of cream-colored. The picture was taken shortly after her dad died, before she met Nikki. When she felt there was no one in the world left for her. It didn’t show the slash marks on her wrists. The film cut to the wreckage. The plane had split in two. Its roof buckled from the intense heat of the flame, the sleek hull flattened. The wings were bent like an origami crane’s. Fire trucks were still dousing water on the smoldering ruins. Adrianne began to shake. The surgical stainless steel equipment on the table adjacent to her rattled. Five heads turned to her. She couldn’t meet their eyes. The bile rose in her throat. A sickly sweet metallic odor filled her nostrils. She retched. The nurse closest to her rolled her onto her side even as she choked. Her throat burned. The flesh dripped from the man in the seat behind her, dripped off the gurney she lay on. She screamed. Screamed until there was no air left in her world and she slipped into blackness. Someone called her name yet again. Not just her first name, her full name, Adrianne Benedicta Harris. Few knew her middle name, taken from her adoptive grandmother. She hated it. What name had her birth mother given her when she lay cradled in her arms? She wondered that many times. Names seemed to hold so much power. It defined one as a person. Billy Bob would never make president but William might. Now she was being pulled back to awareness by the sheer power of her name. Around her, the world rushed by in shades of gray, a stream of soundless motion, dizzying to watch. She was tugged beyond the cities and towns then, a part of the very cosmos, with the stars and the moon she knew so well blurring by until she felt as if she were nothing more than a streaming bit of light herself. “Erifydal.” She felt recognition of the word deep inside her, but did not know what it meant. At its calling, though, the rush of the world around her froze. She held herself like a glimmering orb, suspended in space, stars mere streaks of light beside her. Her hand reached out to caress one of the bits of light, fingers closing around nothing but warmth. Whatever drugs the doctors had given her at the hospital created some frighteningly vivid hallucinations. Nikki would be so jealous. Someone approached. She heard his footfalls as if he walked down an empty linoleum hallway. Click. Click. Click. Then a pause. She craned her head. Nothing but blackness and the tails of streaming stars greeted her. When she turned forward again, he stood before her. Quiet and unassuming, as if he were simply waiting for her to notice him.

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The man before her wasn’t human. She knew that by casual glance. His presence spoke of ancientness, while his body held the mask of youth. She focused on his feet, tried to clear the sludge out of her mind and willed herself back to her hospital room. “Please don’t.” She flinched at the sound of his voice and kept her gaze lowered. Black leather boots caressed his calves, slid over his knees and ended mid-thigh. A pair of dark gray breeches met the boots and from there, a tunic, belted at the waist with a belt that shimmered iridescently like snakeskin. Everything was filled out by an incredibly wellbuilt body. She stopped her gaze. If she was hallucinating—or worse yet, dying—she couldn’t have conjured up a more exquisite angel to meet her than the man standing before her. “Don’t go,” he repeated. She held herself still, hugging her body with her arms. Her hair draped over half her face. He took a step closer. His perfect body, coupled with a smooth deep voice, made her want to melt in place. She sighed. Wait a second. Her head jerked up. Somehow he’d closed the distance between them. She had but to stretch out her hand to touch him. She had the irrepressible urge to reach out and pinch him, just to see if he was real or not. What if he was her guardian angel? Well, then, he should be slapped for not being able to unlock her seat buckle. Of course, she might not be dead. She kept her hands to herself. Their eyes met. His face was oddly familiar, his look patient. His eyes were disquieting. Brilliant green with flecks of shimmery gold, his pupils were slit like a cat’s, his eyes framed by brows arched more sharply than any other person she’d known. High cheekbones outlined those tanned features. The sweep of his blond hair, a shade like deep burnished gold, caught her eye. He tipped his head. Light struck copper highlights in his hair. “Have I met you before?” What a stupid question. Yes, she met aliens or angels every day. He looked startled. It was satisfying to see a crack in his self-possession. “I think not. Do you recognize me?” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen an alien or an angel before.” “Do I frighten you?” He held out his hand, as if to touch her. She pulled back. “No.” Liar. “I cannot hurt you here.” Okay then, he’d neither confirmed nor denied that he was an alien or an angel. Nor had he tried to reassure her that he would not hurt her. “Just where is here?” He glanced around, surveying the nest of space she’d cocooned around herself without really knowing why. “A place of your own making.”

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“And you, a dream?” What a delectable dream, at that. Why couldn’t she meet a real man possessing this much charisma? She felt a sharp stab of guilt at that thought. Doug just didn’t measure up. “A dream here, real elsewhere.” He paused. “Erifydal, I must warn you. We do not have much time.” Then he reached out and touched her lightly on the shoulder. The touch was so achingly familiar she felt as if some lost piece of her had finally found its way home. It was her father’s touch, full of strength. It was her mother’s touch, sympathetic and reassuring. She resisted the inexplicable urge to fling herself into his arms. She took a step back, breaking the contact before she broke down and wept. “I don’t recognize that name, this Erifydal.” “It is what I called you here with.” “Excuse me? Aren’t you in my hallucination?” He looked puzzled. “What do you call yourself in your world?” The tone was commanding. She was unable to not answer. “Adrianne Benedicta Harris.” She frowned, felt some sort of pressure release when she finished speaking. “I heard you call me with that name. Who are you?” He hesitated a moment. “Navarre.” Navarre? Just one name like Cher or Madonna? Well, Michael the archangel had but one name too. And look at all he accomplished. She shook her head. If he was her guardian angel, he would have known her name, wouldn’t he? This Navarre only confused her. She was afraid if she let him touch her again, though, she’d lose all sense of her self. “Well, Navarre. It’s been nice talking to you and you aren’t bad to look at either, but my delusional self and I need to move on. Either I’m dead or I’m in a hospital room somewhere probably wishing I was dead.” “Erif…Adrianne,” he fumbled and she had the satisfaction of seeing him lose his serene mask again. “This is no dream, just a meeting place between worlds. You are in danger. The Hunter and his hounds have been awakened by your activity.” Adrianne threw her head back and laughed. It felt so good. She crossed guardian angel off the list. “Right. Okay, let’s go with that. So, I’m between worlds. Tell me, why would you, obviously an alien, be contacting me?” “Because you are our Queen,” he said simply, clearly dismayed by her flippancy. Her world shattered yet again.

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Chapter Five Adrianne opened her eyes. Nikki Kitzerow, her roommate, sat beside her in the hospital room, stroking her hand. Despite running a bar called The Beast and having a rampant sexual life, forty-five-year-old Nikki had a motherly, down-to-earth air about her. Her black hair was closely cropped, tucked behind her triple-pierced ears. Normally she wore contacts, but today her dark brown eyes were framed by a tiny pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Never without makeup, her eyes were lined with thick chocolate color, her lids smoky with hints of silver, her eyelashes long and black-tipped. She had a bad girl aura about her, but Adrianne knew her better. Nikki walked a pretty straight line, kept her checkbook neurotically balanced and her underwear color-coordinated in her drawer as well as on her body. She was the only woman Adrianne knew with enough colored underwear to match a sixty-fourpiece box of crayons. Her secrets were safe with Adrianne. Nikki’s voice was light, but her eyes worried. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” “Morning?” “They drugged you up pretty good.” Nikki had no idea. The scent of Adrianne’s alien angel still lingered in the air. Musky, wild, with an underlying current of danger running beneath the surface of his cool gaze. She reluctantly banished him to her dreams. “How long have I slept?” Nikki gave her a guarded look. “A week.” “A week!” How could that be? She’d been in the emergency room. She closed her eyes for just a moment. Then came the alien dreams. Where had she lost a week? “I came as soon as the police called. I drove,” Nikki added. “No more flying for me.” “Oh thank God.” Adrianne pulled herself up into a sitting position. “When can I go home?” Nikki hesitated. “There’s nothing physically wrong with you. The doctors are more concerned about your mental state.” She thought about the wild dreams and secretly agreed with the doctors. No way was she going to voice those concerns. They’d never let her go. “I freaked out. You would too if you’d seen what I have.” Just how badly she slipped she didn’t know. Had she talked in her sleep, spoken to her alien angel out loud? How far back had these doctors dug into her past medical records? “I know. I know. You hallucinated pretty bad. They had to tie you down.”

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Adrianne glanced at her wrists and arms. They were bruised, perfect chocolate brown circles ringing her arms like bracelets. She’d seen those marks before too. “Your blood work is all over the chart. Your heart rate is so slow it’s frightening but they can’t find anything wrong.” She said everything in a jumble, paused for air and promptly burst into tears. “I saw the news. I saw the plane. I thought you were dead. Nobody lives through that. No one.” She buried her head against Adrianne’s chest. “It’s okay. I’m still here.” She rubbed Nikki’s back awkwardly. She’d never known Nikki to break down like this. She tried to keep her tone light. “I’m not letting you off the hook, even if I did miss Thanksgiving. I still want the annual shrimp and cookie food-fest.” Nikki sniffled, pulled back with a sheepish smile. “Sorry about that. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that to you.” She smiled through her tears. “I smuggled sandwich cookies in, although their numbers have rapidly dwindled each day I’ve been here.” She lifted up her oversized purse and patted it. It made a crackling noise. “How about clothes? Help me get dressed and we’ll get out of here.” She started tugging at the wires attached to her. Nikki glanced over her shoulder, then leaned forward. “There’s a police officer posted outside your door.” “Why?” She paused, mid-tug. “For your own safety,” she added hurriedly. “You’re the sole survivor of the crash. The reporters are crawling all over the hospital looking for a photo op or a chance to talk to you.” “Wanna make a few bucks? Take my picture.” Adrianne struck a pose, arm flung across her forehead dramatically. “I’m serious!” “So am I. How much will they pay you for one?” “Adri!” Nikki stood and strode to the window. The blinds were drawn. “Sole survivor, did that part sink in?” “I saw the crash on television,” Adrianne said quietly. “I just don’t want to think about it right now, okay?” Nikki turned back to her, eyes softening. “Okay.” “Does Doug know?” Nikki dropped her gaze so Adrianne wouldn’t see the anger warring there. “Yes. He had a bowling tournament, said the team needed him and you had me.” She kept her voice neutral. “The bastard,” Adrianne said mildly. She was hurt by his indifference, no doubt about it, but she wasn’t about to let Nikki see that. Nikki already disliked him. Nikki chewed on her lip, but kept silent.

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She didn’t want to think about Doug at the moment. Her thoughts kept straying to the blond sweep of hair her dreamy alien possessed. “Let’s go home.” “Now?” Adrianne swung her feet over the side of the bed. Whoa. Just a little bit of vertigo. She pulled the heart monitor off her finger. “Now.” “You can’t just walk out of a hospital.” “You said there wasn’t anything wrong with me.” “The police want to talk to you.” She followed Nikki’s gaze and saw movement in the hallway. “Busted.” A nurse rushed in, a plainclothes police officer two steps behind her. “I need to use the bathroom.” Apparently the heart monitor she just pulled off was wired to some central desk. “Stay put. I’ll get a bedpan,” the nurse instructed. “Like hell.” Adrianne stood wobbly, gripping the side table for support. The nurse grabbed her arm in a viselike grip, her strength cleverly disguised by her petite frame. She reached Adrianne’s shoulder, maybe five foot two, and wore her blonde hair in a spiky cut. “Stubborn, aren’t we?” “You have no idea,” Nikki muttered. Being escorted to the bathroom made Adrianne feel utterly incompetent. The nurse eased her down on the toilet. “You should have had your friend get me.” Her face shone with a slick sheen of sweat. “I’d be peeing in a bedpan then, wouldn’t I?” A smile touched the nurse’s lips. “Yes. I’ll be just outside the door. Call when you need me.” She tried to pee or make some sort of noise, then waited for a while feeling foolish. Finally, she leaned over and turned on the faucet. The sound of running water moved things along and camouflaged her own sounds. How embarrassing to have three people listening to her pee. When she finished, the nurse bustled through the door. “Excuse me?” She was poised just above the toilet, tissue in hand. “I see it every day,” she remarked. “Well, I don’t.” Adrianne tried to shrug off her assistance. “We’re lowering your pain medication. That’ll take the wind out of your sails.” “You’re not intimidating me.” “It’s my job to make sure you get better.” “I am perfectly fine. Thank you.” She made her way back to the bed on her own, the nurse hovering at her elbow. Edging by the officer so he couldn’t see her bare backside, she slid onto the bed. Damn hospital gowns. She wanted her own clothes, her own bed and to be out from beneath everyone’s scrutiny. The nurse bustled around her, reattaching monitors. 20

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“Agent Haynes,” the officer said when she finally settled herself into bed, upright, covers tucked tight around herself. He extended his hand. Not bad-looking. His grip was firm, eyes wary but a warm rich brown. Worn brown loafers, khakis neatly pressed, and an olive-colored cotton long-sleeve shirt coordinated with the hint of sock she spied when he sat down beside the bed. His hair was of a utilitarian cut, slightly longer than military, but not much, his jaw wide, cleanshaven. He looked boyishly thirty but his eyes were aged. Pushing forty, she guessed. Way too old for her, but he had potential for Nikki. She glanced at Nikki. Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Am I in trouble?” “No, but I do have a few questions we need to ask. Part of the routine. Do you want to be alone?” Nikki, leaning against the window, flashed her a wicked grin of white teeth against her dark complexion. No, she didn’t want to be alone for a long, long time. “Shoot.” “Excuse me?” “Go ahead, ask away.” He hesitated. “Are you aware you are the only survivor?” She cut him off with a terse “yes”. “Have you seen photos of the crash?” He reached inside an envelope he carried. “I saw it on the television.” He paused, dropping his hand. “We don’t know how you lived through that,” he said bluntly. “That makes two of us.” “Anything you can tell me?” “We hit turbulence before we landed. The flight crew gave us the crash lecture. We all assumed the position. We crashed.” He flashed her a quick smile, all even white teeth. He took no notes and kept one hand on his envelope, the other, resting on his knee. She saw the muscles twitch in the hand cupping his knee. “Tell me what you can about the crash.” She shuddered, trying miserably to keep her emotions hidden. He wanted facts. And yet, all she saw was blood trickling out of Karen Anhalt’s mouth. She swallowed, fought down the bubble of panic. “I saw the terminal coming toward us too fast. I thought we were going to hit it.” And remembered her mind gibbering stop, stop, stop. “We stopped before we hit though. I don’t know what we hit, but it was big enough to stop a plane.” “The plane didn’t hit anything.”

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Adrianne shook her head. “I felt it. My seat belt almost cut me in two. If we didn’t hit the terminal, what stopped the plane?” Frustration crept into her voice. “I don’t know.” He watched her closely. “A plane sliding sideways doesn’t just come to a halt on its own.” “You’re echoing my thoughts.” “I remember the screeching noise, metal groaning, the smell of something burning.” Burning flesh, hair, seats. “Screams, doors opening, people trampling each other.” Her world was pitching dangerously again. Her heart monitor beeped a staccato rhythm. The blonde nurse poked her head into the room, frowned at Agent Haynes, then backed out. Nikki stepped beside the bed, started stroking her hand. She was caught in the images. “I don’t remember much more.” But she did. The fire eating up her pants legs, the bob and nod of the flames so mesmerizing, its insatiable hunger. “You have bumps and bruises, no broken bones and remarkably no burns. Everyone and everything else burned. Why?” “Ask the doctors,” she retorted, meeting his accusing eyes. He dropped his gaze and toyed with the envelope. “Do you want to see photos?” he asked quietly. “No,” she retorted. “I want to know why the plane crashed.” “Preliminary report blames the ice.” She remembered seeing ice coating the wings. He continued. “After 9/11, we can’t rule out an act of sabotage.” “You’re nuts,” she said, jumping to his conclusion. “I’m a teacher, not a terrorist.” “You lived,” he said simply. “How? Maybe hiding beneath a nonflammable blanket or spraying some sort of fire retardant on your body.” “Get out,” she said in a harsh voice. “Get out of here.” “Ms. Harris.” “Am I under arrest?” “No.” “Then get out.” She pointed, jabbing her finger at the door. “I have a right to ask that you inform the authorities prior to you going anywhere.” “To hell I will.” She raised her chin. “I’m the victim, damn it.” She felt her resolve slipping. A few tears slid down her face. She swiped at them with her gown’s flimsy sleeve. “All we want is answers,” he said evenly. “Me too.” He stood as a doctor entered the room, her nurse in tow.

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“Glad to see you’re awake, Adrianne,” he said and she recognized him from the emergency room. Nearly bald but for a fringe of hair over his ears, mid-fifties with a nononsense air about him. He frowned at Haynes. “She’s been through a very traumatic ordeal. I would like to see her rest.” “I was just leaving.” He reached into a pocket and laid a business card on the bedside table. “If you want to talk or think of anything else, give me a call.” At Nikki’s tightening grip, she bit back a retort and simply nodded. She had a feeling she’d see Haynes again. When he’d left the room, she turned to the doctor. “I’d like to go home.” He examined her with a critical eye. “There’s no reason to technically keep you here any longer and your insurance company will be pleased you want to leave. I prefer to keep my coma patients a few extra days to make sure they don’t regress.” He walked to the window and lifted a blind between his thumb and forefinger. “I understand your need to escape the scrutiny of the police and media hounds. But you cannot hide from everyone. Are you ready to deal with them?” “Is anyone ever?” She didn’t want to think about that. She wanted her normal life, her bed, a nice long bath and maybe even a glass of wine. “I’ve had a chance to review your medical records.” His tone was light. He turned to her, his face noncommittal, but gaze sharp. “You stopped filling your prescription over a year ago.” “My body, my choice.” “How are you feeling, Adrianne?” The tone of his voice changed, grandfatherly, as if offering her a butterscotch candy. “Like I fell out of a plane,” she retorted. Nikki didn’t know what she had done to herself when her father died. She couldn’t let Nikki know. She wasn’t that person anymore. She had picked up the pieces and forced herself to go on. He pressed his thin lips tight, his brow furrowed. “Get Ms. Harris a set of scrubs.” He waited until the nurse left the room. “I’d like to know how you survived. Everyone would.” He held up his hand to forestall her protest. “What is difficult for us, especially for a man of my profession, is that sometimes we just don’t have an answer. Consider your life a gift, Ms. Harris. Use it wisely.” He crossed the room, scribbled a prescription on a piece of paper and laid it on the bedside table. “See that you get this filled.” “Thank you.” Fill it, no problem, use it, she doubted it. The nurse returned with the scrubs and a pair of ridiculously thin slippers. “I don’t like seeing my hospital turned into a circus. Use the service elevator. You have one hour. After that I’ll announce that you’ve been discharged.” He left. “Wow, warm bedside manner,” Nikki remarked. Adrianne was already pulling off her gown and dressing in the scrubs. The doctor hadn’t pushed. Nikki hadn’t pried. Her secret was safe. That was all that mattered. 23

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She headed into the bathroom, a bit woozy, and splashed water on her face. Her hair was in desperate need of a wash. She braided it tightly, securing it with a rubber band. Hazy blue eyes stared back at her from the mirror. She frowned at the bags. Nikki popped in and handed her a compact. “You need some color.” For once, Adrianne agreed. “How do I look?” A touch of blush added life to her cheeks. She disguised the shadows beneath her eyes with as much powder as she dared. “Like you just worked two back-to-back shifts.” Quiet concern filled her eyes. She touched Adrianne’s shoulder lightly. “You ready? You could stay here another night. I won’t leave you alone.” “No.” “All right then.” She eyed her critically. “I think we’ll make it.” They slipped down the hallway, chatting amiably as if the pair had indeed just gotten off shift and were making plans. They passed Agent Haynes at the nurses’ station. His lean body was draped over the counter, badge displayed beside him, as he tried to read something on the nurse’s computer monitor. The nurse’s voice was raised. Her hand shielded the contents of the monitor from view. They did not notice the pair. The service elevator opened. The doors whooshed closed. Silence closed around them. Nikki cleared her throat. “I’m not one to pry.” Adrianne snorted. “What did the doctor find in your records?” She swallowed hard. Nikki must never know. No one must ever know she lost herself once. She was whole now. Or was she? Was the whispering voice of an alien a sign she slipped? She’d made a life since then. A life filled with a sexually fulfilling relationship and friendships she treasured. She had a career, paid her bills on time and even went to church from time to time. But most importantly, she had Nikki. “Nothing to be concerned about,” Adrianne replied, trying to keep her voice steady and light at the same time. “You can trust me.” “You know I do.” Nikki gave her a hard, long stare. “Okay. When you’re ready, we’ll talk.” Like hell. She smiled. “All right, we will.” “You can be incredibly pigheaded,” Nikki muttered. “I learned from the best.” The elevator doors opened. They turned away from the lobby, quickly enough to only glimpse the reporters lounging there. Over the course of a week, their watchfulness had ebbed. Other stories took precedence. What remained in the lobby 24

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were the last-chance reporters, those seeking their big break. And they were watching for a beat-up blonde-haired woman with a sallow face and haunted eyes, not a nurse with greasy hair accompanied by a raven-haired woman of Latino origin. Nikki pulled the keys from her pocket as they headed out the door. Her beat-up gray car was parked in two-hour parking. Typical Nikki. She, no doubt, played the concerned friend role to the hilt, and the law relented. A note fluttered beneath her driver-side windshield wiper. Adrianne snickered. “Looks like you didn’t escape a fine this time.” Nikki smiled, a predator’s smile, pulled the note loose and read it. “One of the security guys asking me for a date.” She crumpled the paper up and tossed it in her backseat. “Sometimes I hate you. Hand over those cookies.”

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Chapter Six Navarre felt the pressure ease even before he opened his eyes. He turned his head, willing his dormant body awake. His fellow comrades still slept, cocooned in their traveling beds. The gray walls around them rippled imperceptibly, as fluid expanded through the walls of the ship again. His toes tingled. Taking off his oxygen mask, he sat up slowly, letting his body adjust to normal pressure. He intensely disliked space travel. The Dragoon had been on the move for the past seventy-five years. He prayed Adrianne Benedicta Harris was truly their Queen and their quest could finally come to an end. Home, a place to stretch one’s wings and caress the sky. He didn’t ask for much. None of them did anymore. Family, friends, their very race, was annihilated. All they had left were each other. Little comfort that was. The craft settled, purring in contentment. It had been traveling far too long as well. Navarre touched the spongy wall. “Thank you,” he murmured. While they slept, the ship had analyzed the environment and deemed it safe for its inhabitants. Navarre was one of the few who never forgot the importance of their sentient ship. “Ramp?” A hole opened at his feet with a hiss as pressurized air met the atmosphere of a new planet. He should wait for someone else to rise. As the last of their race, they had an unspoken agreement to travel in pairs for safety. A glance down the row of couches revealed twelve other sleeping forms. Running his fingers through his hair, he took a step toward his brother’s couch. Altarre’s mouth was open. He snored softly. Let him sleep. Altarre was an empath. The last couple of months had been particularly hard on him. Navarre did not hesitate to descend. The ship sealed itself shut behind him. No sign of an opening remained. The ship’s body was shaped like a whale’s, with a large blunt front end tapering in a streamlined fashion to a pointed rear. It had already begun to burrow into the frozen soil around it. In a few days there would be no trace of its presence. Anything in its burrowing path it could consume, it would. That which could not be consumed, was expelled and used to cover itself. An effective craft and one of the last of its kind as well, its symbiotic relationship with the Dragoon pretty much heralded its extinction. Navarre drew his cloak around him. To his internal temperature, it was bitterly cold. What forsaken area had they landed in? His feet made crunching noises as he moved, the ground white beneath him. Above him, woody plants extended nude arms skyward, as if beseeching a cruel God for more warmth. A lone sun sullenly lit the sky.

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The cold air seared his lungs. A single exhalation created a cloud before his lips and dissipated before he could touch it. Wonderful. This planet’s ambiance would certainly elevate all their moods, he thought sarcastically. But this was the planet of their Queen. That thought alone propelled him forward. Tipping his head, he listened for sounds of life, letting his mind play out lightly. Creatures touched his thread, tentative at first, chittering softly. He caught the image of a small gray furred body, every muscle constantly on the move. Another touched his mind, slow and as thick as molten earth, as white as the ground around it, ears pointy, and incredibly well-tuned. A sleeping giant’s rhythms tickled his sense, a large black creature curled in a den to his south. He played out farther and found what he sought. Humans. A mental signature like and yet unlike their Queen. His Queen’s mental touch was tinged with self-awareness, yet wild, as if she could spin away from herself, never return, and not fear that escape. Unpredictable and reckless was more like how others of the Dragoon would describe that characteristic. He found it intriguing. His Queen. With blonde hair as light-colored as a newborn dragon’s underbelly and piercing blue eyes that sought to sear into the very soul of a person. He wondered if she knew what she could do to someone with that clever brain tucked behind those eyes. Was she so new to her talents that she did not know? Or had she managed to hide her psi signature from them all these years? Either possibility meant she was dangerous. It thrilled him. The human minds that he found were focused on pleasure, their senses and wits dull. He felt sullied just touching them. He had no more desire to interact with them, yet in order to gain what he needed, he must. With a sigh, he moved in the direction of these humans, then paused. His footfalls were so noisy. He wanted to fly but the ripple in the environment’s aura might be enough to attract unsavory characters. The Dragoon would be weak after such a long, quick spaceflight as well as the ship itself. And he was alone. He could not risk drawing predators to the ship. He moved through the arc of woody plants, unsure of how the time passed here, intent only on his prey. A shelter eventually came into sight, hewn from the woodland around it. Square in shape, an exhaust pipe stuck out of the roof. Exhaust in the form of smoke puffed out of the pipe. Panels set into the frame of the shelter looked translucent. He approached as close as he dared, hid himself behind a stack of chopped wood and collected his thoughts. He sensed two occupants in the shelter. A third stumbled through the snow into Navarre’s line of sight, his movements jerky as if injured or impaired. “Hey,” he called to the other inhabitants as if they could hear him. He pulled down his breeches, whipped out his manliness and began to pee. He moved as he peed, scrolling burning yellow into the white ground covering. “Hey,” he called again. “I wrote my whole

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name in the snow!” Pants still half down, the crack of his buttocks showing, he trudged back to the shelter, calling out to the others again. The intelligence level of that one was frightening. Navarre dismissed it immediately, praying one of the other two possessed a shred of sense. He eased all three minds into a rhythm of sleep and waited several minutes. Then he stepped from his hiding place and slipped into the shelter. Was this how his Dragoness lived? He inwardly cringed. Clothes draped nearly every surface. There was an unsavory odor to the shelter which made him wrinkle his nose. One man’s body was collapsed by the door, pants half done. The other two were slumped over a table, pieces of paper strewn around their bodies, stacks of metal cylinders beside them. He picked up one of the metal cylinders, sniffed at the contents and smiled. Some sort of fermented ale. Ah, the others would be pleased to know the humans favored that as they did. But he was not here to assess their eating and drinking habits. He needed their language. He poked around in one of the sleeper’s minds until he found his center of speech, then stole the knowledge. Mind speech would get them only so far. They needed the language to blend in and to communicate properly with their Queen. He rummaged through the cabin, snatching a cache of garments and a stack of printed material. Perhaps Vespero, their historian, could extract some measure of their culture from the literature. The building was warm. It pleased him to know she would require warmth as well as they did. He found its source. As he suspected, they burned the woody plants. Back outside he took a deep breath of clear air, pleased to be free of the sweatstenched and greasy food-laden air. Death clung to the air. He turned his head. A large furred animal hung from a set of posts behind the cabin. He touched it, felt its stiff brown body and knew it had been dead for some time. That the planet supplied animals large enough to satisfy the Dragoon’s appetites was good to know too. The humans would ease out of their sleep no worse for wear. He pushed the sleeping man into the cabin just far enough so he could close the door. He started to follow his footprints back to their ship, then froze. If he could find his way back, so could others. Bending down, he blew lightly across his tracks. His hot breath melted the footprints, blurring them seamlessly into the snow around him. Snow. He now knew the word for the crusty white stuff he stepped in. It meant the ground and air were cold and moisture-laden, a good warning sign. The Dragoon preferred a warmer, more desert-like climate. Armed with the words of his Queen, he took his time returning to the ship, pausing to hide his tracks, marvel at lichen on a tree, and watch the industrious habits of a woodpecker. Such miniature flying creatures fascinated him. By the time the ship came into view, darkness shrouded the landscape. The ship had already burrowed about a foot into the earth. Several large rocks scattered the area, apparently indigestible.

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When he entered the main chamber, he heard the rest of his comrades shaking off their travel-induced slumber. He dumped the contents of his scouting onto a table the ship formed out of the wall for him. Altarre was waiting, leaning in the frame of the open panel. He stood as tall as his brother, but was a darker shade, hazel eyes, ruststreaked chocolate hair, a bit leaner as well in the chest. Navarre was a master swordsman. Altarre, a healer, had no need to develop the muscles necessary to play with steel. “You should have woken me,” Altarre scolded. “The others will be irate.” His brother radiated worry, his brow furrowed, eyes flashing. Unspoken was how the others already resented Navarre for being the first to detect and contact their Queen. Now he’d just made himself the first to speak her language as well. “I am safe. I have been productive.” Navarre indicated, with a sweep of his hand, the stolen objects. “At what cost?” Altarre asked, a sharpness in his tone. Navarre glared at him. He didn’t need praise, but a little appreciation would be nice. Altarre relented, dropping his gaze. “I know you take care but you worried me.” He raised his eyes. “You are the only one who has touched her. We cannot lose you.” His brother was right. It was a point he had overlooked. Navarre kept silent. His pride might have stolen the Dragoon’s only chance. He had taken an unnecessary risk, not that he’d admit it to anyone, even his brother. Altarre held up a garment between thumb and forefinger. “It smells.” “Aye.” Navarre paused. “I captured their language too.” He waited for the backlash, but there was none. Altarre merely raised an eyebrow. “You will share that.” An order, not a question. When Navarre did not rise to the challenge, he added, “The others will be pleased. My thanks as well.” The others be damned. He needed the language to entice his Queen. His genetics would not die with him and Altarre. Their family was already disgraced. If he wooed and mated the Queen, it would be his line that resurrected the Dragoon. His family line would no longer be known as a failure. His sister, Mirium, could finally be forgiven for her inability to fly and mate. That he found the Queen intriguing was a pleasant benefit. Already he felt the stirrings of possession. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to share her with the Dragoon. Damned difficult, as he fashioned an image of her within his mind. But necessary if he wanted to keep himself from getting murdered by the rest of them for even thinking of stealing their Queen away. Benito, the eldest member of the Dragoon, entered the side chamber. His jet black hair was generously sprinkled with gray. Fine lines wove a tapestry at the edges of his eyes. His eyes, themselves, were a tired gold, as bronzed as his skin. There would be no redemption for Benito’s bloodline. Age now made him impotent. 29

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Benito scowled when he saw the objects. Reaching for one of the printed books, he opened it, then dropped it immediately. “They display their females nude?” he choked, shocked. “Where?” Altarre reached for the fallen book. Benito put his boot-clad foot over it. “Which of you brought this into our midst?” Altarre looked pointedly at Navarre. “Knowing their culture is necessary to integrate into their society,” Navarre protested against Benito’s accusing stare, all the while wondering if all humans were as comfortable with their nudity as the female half-hidden by Benito’s boot was. What a tempting thought. “If we fail to find her before the Hunter does, it is moot. Have you tried to contact her here?” “No.” “That should be our first priority. Have you the strength to do so yet?” Benito did not mean to insult him even though it sounded as such. Navarre swallowed his pride. “She is not accustomed to sharing her mind, even when trapped within the confines of sleep. How do you propose I contact her if she is awake?” “I do not know, but you must try,” Benito replied. Altarre shot him a warning glance. Her discovery is both a blessing and a curse to him, he said quietly in his brother’s mind. Speaking mind to mind was the only way one could safely be assured that no one was overhearing a private conversation in the somewhat tight quarters of the ship. A blessing in that Benito would not witness the Dragoon’s extinction. A curse in that his genetics would die with him while the others continued on. Navarre merely nodded. “I will attempt to contact her immediately.” He wanted no strife with Benito. The ship, anticipating his need, extended a portion of itself into the room, forming a couch of sorts. Navarre settled himself into its warming folds, letting the ship envelop him and warm his chilled body. He felt the thrum of the ship’s heartbeat within the material covering him. If their ship mourned over its inability to pass along its own genetic material, it never let Navarre know. With a sigh of resignation, Navarre closed his eyes and let his mind spin free. Benito was right. He had to try. She was all they had left.

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Chapter Seven Adrianne dozed on and off throughout the ride home. Highway 29 had that lulling effect, a mostly flat strip of road that wove its way through trees and half-abandoned towns. The car’s headlights reflected off the sparkling snow banks. Hard rock music pulsed through the car. That she could sleep through its bass rumble was a testament to how much her body had adapted since moving into the apartment about Nikki’s bar. Yawning, she rubbed sleep from her eyes. “Do you need me to drive?” “Not a chance.” Nikki glanced her way and turned down the radio station. “Feel any better?” Adrianne caught the gleam of eyes in the ditch and straightened. “Watch out!” A large black body bounded across their lane. “Shit!” Nikki slammed on the brakes and swerved, sliding onto the road’s shoulder. The vehicle narrowly missed the creature as it vaulted into the snow-covered strip separating the lanes of traffic. An oncoming car swerved as well, coming to an abrupt halt sideways in his lane. The headlights of both vehicles glared balefully at each other. “What was that?” The car’s seat belt cut into her already bruised shoulder. Adrianne unfastened it. “A dog,” Nikki said. “I almost hit someone’s dog.” She was shaking. “Couldn’t have been. There are no houses around.” Her mind failed to process what she saw. It moved like a dog, with a long, loping stride, but it was too big to be any sort of dog. And she could have sworn those eyes glowed red in the headlights. She shook her head, clearing the last shreds of sleep. “We better see if the other driver’s okay.” “I don’t want to see someone’s pet squished on the road.” Nikki kept her hands on the steering wheel. “I’ll check.” She leaned across Nikki and turned on the car’s hazard lights before getting out. She heard another car door slam. “Are you all right?” she called, crossing in front of the car. The snow in the median strip was deep with a crusty top layer. She took only a few steps before her foot broke through and she sank up to her knee. “Yeah!” a man yelled backed. “I think I hit a wolf.” The loose snow beneath the crust slid up beneath her scrubs’ pants legs. She shivered, pulled her foot back out, and paused. A wolf? In this area? That made sense.

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“Be careful. Is it dead?” She could see the shadow of the big dog or wolf’s form in the car’s headlights. The length of its body was as long as the car’s width. The car’s driver approached the body, then nudged it with the end of a tire iron he held in one hand. It didn’t move. He crept closer, dropping to one knee to get a better look. “Holy shit, it’s huge!” he called back, excitement in his voice. At the sound of the shout, the wolf-dog leaped up, its movements a blur of black and crimson. The man screamed but once. Adrianne heard the tire iron clank as it struck the pavement. She scrambled backward, her feet breaking through the brittle snow. Nikki opened her car door and poked her head out. “Is something wrong?” “Get back in the car,” Adrianne hissed, keeping her eyes on the creature’s movements. It had the man’s neck in its mouth. It lifted up its head, shook the limp body, then turned toward her. Its eyes gleamed crimson. Adrianne’s thighs bumped against the car. She froze. “What’s wrong? Does he need help?” Nikki spotted the wolf. “Omigod. Should I call 9-1-1?” “Get back in the car,” Adrianne repeated. She took her eyes away long enough to scoot around the vehicle and slam the door behind her. The sound caused the wolf to drop the man. It padded through the median strip, cruising on top of the snow with a long, lanky stride. Something that big should have broken through the crusty snow. But it didn’t. “Straighten us out,” Adrianne demanded. Nikki didn’t have to be told twice. She backed up, pointed the nose of the car forward and began to inch along the road. Headlights from another car reflected in their rearview mirror. Thank God someone was coming. “Shouldn’t we help him?” Nikki asked. “He’s dead.” The wolf-dog padded onto the road and faced them, tongue lolling. Nikki cursed softly. “What is that?” “It killed the other driver.” Adrianne held as still as she could, hoping it couldn’t see her within the car’s interior. It looked like a black greyhound, the body long and wiry, but its chest was twice as wide as its head. White teeth gleamed against its hide. Its muzzle was matted and dripped. Blood, Adrianne thought, shivering. It sat. Tongue lolling, its eyes glowed crimson in the car’s headlights. “Umm, Adri?” Nikki’s voice seemed very small. “Why are its eyes red?” “Don’t look at it. Floor it.”

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“I can’t. It could be someone’s pet. It’s wearing a collar.” Adrianne didn’t bother to look. “That’s nobody’s pet.” She covered Nikki’s foot with her own and slammed down the gas pedal. The little car lurched forward. The wolf-dog never moved out of their way. Nikki blinked and regained some semblance of self-control. She jerked the steering wheel to miss it. The wolf-dog rose and leaped. Its body slammed into Nikki’s door, face smashing against the glass. Adrianne saw teeth and bloody jaws. Both women screamed. A streak of blood smeared the window. Flecks spattered across the windshield like an abstract painting. Nikki’s foot pressed down the accelerator. Adrianne sat back. The car shot forward, headlights bouncing down the highway. Nikki kept her foot on the gas pedal until the needle crept to eighty. “Easy, leadfoot.” Adrianne put a hand on Nikki’s arm. Nikki turned on the windshield wipers and washed away the blood specks. The car slowed. “What the hell was that?” Adrianne prided herself on keeping her voice steady. “Probably someone’s wolf hybrid.” “With red eyes?’ Her hands clenched the steering wheel. “An illusion.” But a creepily effective one at that. She could have sworn it was looking right at her. Nikki was stiff beside her. “For God’s sake, Nikki, breathe.” Nikki kept her eyes on the road. “We should call the police.” “It’s a busy road and there was a car right behind us.” She glanced in the side mirror. The car she had seen was either stopped or they simply outpaced it. She peeked at the speedometer. It was back down to sixty-five. “There’s a person bleeding out…” “He’s dead. That car already stopped for him.” Deep breath, deep unbroken breath. Adri slumped in her seat, aching all over. “I know what dead people look like,” she muttered. Nikki did not reply. “Thank you for coming to get me,” she said when the silence continued. Nikki let out an exasperated snort. “I’ll make it up to you. The very next time your plane crashes, I’ll be there.” Nikki gave her a sidelong glance. “This isn’t funny.” “I’m not disagreeing with you.” She fiddled with the radio dial, then turned on Nikki’s favorite station. The car slowed. “What are you doing?” Adrianne sat upright.

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“Checking to see if someone stopped.” Nikki made a U-turn directly in front of the “No U-Turns Allowed” sign. Adrianne couldn’t put a name to the fear that sparked through her. “Don’t!” “I don’t plan on getting out of the car.” She drove back at a steady pace, obeying the speed limit. “Nikki.” Nikki turned up the radio and deliberately began to sing along with the song. Adrianne was well accustomed to her friend’s stubbornness. “You’re pissing me off,” she yelled over the blare of the radio. “And you’re not acting like the person I know,” Nikki retorted. Nikki was right. If they didn’t go back, she’d regret it later. Something inside her, though, sounded warning bells. If she was driving, it would have been physically impossible for her to head back to the scene. Call it shell-shock. Post traumatic stress syndrome. Whatever it was, she felt the hair stand up at the nape of her neck. Adrianne drummed her fingers against the dashboard. The closer they came, the faster she drummed. She squirmed in her seat and sent a pleading look in Nikki’s direction. Nikki ignored her. Two cars had already stopped by the time they reached the scene. Someone had draped the man’s head and shoulders with a coat. “See!” Adrianne exclaimed with an explosive breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Nikki sighed and drove by slowly. “Maybe we should get a hotel room. I need a drink.” She ran her hand through her short dark hair, spiking it. “I need a couple of drinks.” “Can we get a room with a whirlpool tub?” “This isn’t a vacation.” She caught the look in Adrianne’s eye. A relaxing bubble bath and a bottle of wine might be the best remedy for both of them. “My treat,” Adrianne persisted, seeing Nikki’s resistance crumble. “Did you happen to hide a credit card in a body cavity?” Oops. No purse, no credit card. She smiled sweetly at Nikki. “I’ll pay you back.” Nikki glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “My treat. Just don’t go and try to die on me again.” “That’s an easy promise to keep.”

***** Adrianne poured herself a glass of wine, actually a coffee cup since the room they rented only carried paper cups and thick unbreakable ugly ceramic coffee cups, but that didn’t really matter. She took a tentative taste. It probably wasn’t wise to mix alcohol with painkillers, but judging by how she felt, her medication wore off. And they hadn’t 34

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taken the time to fill the prescription the doctor wrote for her. Alcohol was a cheap and easier-to-be-had substitute right now, although with Nikki’s choice of wine, the medication just might be the more affordable of the two. Nikki ordered a pizza, then dashed out to find Adrianne some clothes other than scrubs. The whirlpool bath was about half full. She tested the water, impatient to indulge herself. Emptying her coffee cup full of wine, she poured herself another cupful, and propped it on the edge of the tub. Shucking her scrubs, she stepped in. Heaven on earth. She slid deeper, the water lapping her neck. The alarm clock radio played quietly in the background. The hotel was nearly empty on a Tuesday. The few occupied rooms held business travelers nearly as weary as herself. She glanced at the clock. Seven p.m. It felt so much later. She eased deeper into the tub, let the water hide her to her chin. The tub’s jets massaged her aching muscles. The wine, the warmth, and the soothing silence all conspired to lull her into sleep. The hotel room door opened and shut. Nikki laughed quietly. “Comfortable? I’m going to go wait for the pizza in the lobby.” Adrianne roused enough to lift her hand and wiggle her fingers. Nikki laughed again. She detested the silence. “Don’t drown on me,” she called as she left. Adrianne grunted a response and dozed off. When she roused again, it came with a painfully sharp awareness. The hair rose at the nape of her neck. Her watery oasis felt more like a prison than a soothing retreat. With a sixth sense she didn’t know she possessed, she felt another presence. It didn’t alarm her as much as it surprised her. Didn’t some people have strange premonitions after surviving their own near death experience? Her eyes flicked open. “Who’s there?” Her hotel room was still empty. She heard laughter down the hall, Nikki teasing the clerk. Easy now, Adrianne. The voice echoed in her mind. Masculine, familiar. Adrianne bolted upright, water splashing across the floor. The presence remained, tickling at the base of her skull. Mind speech, lady. It is Navarre. Navarre, as in the incredibly good-looking hallucination from the hospital? She heard a quiet chuckle in her mind. You are very flattering. “Where the hell are you?” she said out loud, snatching a towel into the tub and covering her breasts. Not there, he replied, amused. Although judging by your predicament, I wish I was.

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Both flattered and mortified, she clutched the towel tighter. “How do you know what I am doing?” You are broadcasting distress at every level. She paused at that, clamping down on her thoughts as she forced herself to breathe calmly. In through the nose, fill the lungs, out through the mouth. She cleared her lungs and her head at the same time. Much better. She heard approval in his voice. “Am I going crazy?” I assure you, you are quite sane. We are here now. We need to know where you are so we can protect you. “Who is we? And what are you trying to protect me from?” But the image of the wolf hybrid with crimson eyes jumped unbidden into her mind. Exactly. And not a wolf. A hound. You do not wish to meet the Hunter, its master. “Prove to me that I’m not crazy.” That she hadn’t hit her head too hard. That she wasn’t freaking out from possibly mixing pain medication with alcohol. Have you a flame? A flame? Fire. After she had nearly burned to death in a plane wreck, he wanted her to play with fire? “No!” But she knew Nikki carried a lighter in her purse. Her gaze darted to the hotel bureau where the purse slumped, half opened. “No way.” You did not burn. His voice was very soft. The touch of his mind tried to be soothing. You will not burn. “No.” She felt his sigh, then a pause as he thought about what to suggest next. Do you have access to a black light? “Not here, but I could get one.” Find one and shine it on your skin. “And that will prove I’m not crazy?” She relaxed against the edge of the tub. Just thinking of actually finding a black light was probably proof enough that she had lost it. Crazy or not, though, she liked the feel of Navarre’s presence. I suspect what you will see will raise many questions. His tone changed. Will you tell me where you are? “Not until I know I’m in danger, pal,” she muttered under breath, trying to project a more upbeat attitude toward him. You are not that good yet and mind speech is not a place for deceit. His voice was grim. Find that black light and get back to me. “Sure, I’ll just give you a call on my cell phone. Oops, it burnt up with the rest of my belongings.” I will be listening. “In on my thoughts?” She was indignant. 36

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He didn’t respond, but she felt his presence fade so she suspected he gave her some small measure of privacy. She had to be losing her mind. Nikki might think it was hilarious, just a bad trip. Adrianne couldn’t be sure. She climbed out of the bathtub, dripping towel wrapped around her, and padded to the shopping bag Nikki had left behind. Great. She held up a pair of matching red lacy bra and panties between her thumb and forefinger. She wrinkled her nose. They were something she’d never choose for herself, but Nikki was a stickler on coordinating undergarments. A pair of jeans, a turtleneck and some socks accompanied the impractical underwear. She dressed, then padded sock-footed down to the lobby. Nikki was chatting with the pizza delivery man. Uh-oh, she’d seen that smitten look on the faces of countless men who paraded through her roommate’s life. Even her Doug. She brushed that thought aside. “What does a woman have to do around here to get a warm slice of pizza?” Adrianne loudly complained. Pizza boy jumped as if he’d been shot. Nikki glanced lazily over her shoulder. “So you didn’t drown?” She surveyed the outfit, a wicked smile playing at her lips. “I didn’t think I’d ever get you to wear lace.” “You’ll pay for it.” She shook her finger at her, then snatched a piece of pizza and headed down the hallway. “I’ll be right back,” she called over her shoulder. “Just want to see what the pool looks like.” “Knock first,” Nikki called back. Adrianne had been her roommate long enough to figure that out on her own. She padded around the corner, looking not for the pool but the video arcade. One of the games had to have a black light. On a Tuesday night, the arcade was understandably empty. Still, she glanced around. One of the race car arcades was silhouetted in fluorescent light. She sat down inside it, a bit cramped. Feeling stupid for listening to voices in her head, she nonetheless pulled up her shirtsleeve. Her skin glowed a pale white. A web of lines shone back at her. She dropped the piece of pizza and froze, mind blank. Like…like…scales? An intricate mosaic of scales ran from her fingertips to the pushed-up edge of the shirt. She jerked her arm out of the black light’s glow. Her skin was flawless. She turned her arm over. Nothing. She stuck her arm back into the game’s light. A pattern of scales glimmered back at her. She bolted up, smacked her head on the “roll cage” of the game, then stumbled into the hallway. Nikki was no longer chatting with pizza boy. She ran down the hall, fumbled with her room key and slipped in. Nikki was relaxing in the tub, television blaring, a pizza box propped on the edge of the bathtub. “You didn’t knock,” she reminded her. “I was going to come looking for you in a little bit. Any good-looking men in the pool?”

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“None. I need your lighter,” she blurted out. Her heart was racing badly. Nikki shrugged. “In my purse.” She took another bite of pizza, then sipped the wine. “Taking up smoking?” “When will you be through?” “When my hands shrivel or the pizza is gone, whatever comes first. You okay?” “Yeah. Yeah.” She grabbed the lighter. “Be right back.” Shutting the door, she leaned against it for a moment. She listened to a man talking in her head. Her arm looked like she was some sort of comic book character. And now she was about to set herself on fire. Insanity crept ever closer with each step she took. She should have taken the doctor’s advice and stayed a few more days in the hospital. Too late now. She padded down the hall and out the side door. Propping the door open with her foot, she flicked the lighter. The flame sputtered, then came to life. Surprised, she almost dropped the lighter. Swallowing the sudden burst of fear, she quickly stuck her right pinkie into the flame, wincing in anticipation of the pain. Nothing. She stared, repulsed and fascinated. The little flame lapped on either side of her finger. She felt warmth, no more. Her finger remained untouched, no smoldering, no smell of burning flesh. “Navarre?” A whisper? A prayer? She didn’t know what to think or say. She tucked the lighter in her pocket. The hotel door closed behind her. She felt his comforting presence immediately. Here. “Who are you? What’s wrong with me?” She wished she had someone to confront, to demand answers from. There was no one but the empty parking lot. We are the Dragoon. You, I believe, are our Dragoness, our Queen. “Aliens. I am talking to a voice in my head who says he’s an alien.” Navarre’s voice was patient. It is a lot to digest. I understand. But you are in danger. Adrianne, you are so very special to us. We need to protect you. “How many of you are here? By here, do you mean here on Earth or here in Wisconsin? Or lord, or here outside my door?” There are but thirteen of us left. A weighty pause followed. In the entire universe. “Thirteen total? Men, women and children?” He paused. Thirteen males. Thirteen men seeking a woman? And they thought she was that woman. She slumped against the glass door, sliding down until she felt the cold concrete through the seat of her pants. “I’m having a hard time with all this.” Understandably. She felt his regret for not being there, for springing this upon her and leaving her alone. Adrianne? 38

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“Can you meet me at my apartment?” If you are safe, I would prefer you stay where you are. Let us come to you. Motion at the edge of the parking lot caught her eye. A black shape detached itself from the shadows and padded across the lot. She began to shake. A second form followed, then a third. Feeling her heart begin to race, Navarre asked, Adrianne, what is amiss? “Hounds.” She slid up the door, keeping her eyes on the creatures. Groping for her key card, she flashed it across the door. She heard the lock click. Yanking the door open, she slipped inside. And not a moment too soon. A body struck the glass. The door shook in its jamb. Adrianne, where are you? Panicked now, his calm façade crumbled. “The Sunset Motel in Wausau.” Pictures, a map, give me something, he demanded. Words and titles meant nothing to him. She tried to focus, but her heart hammered in her chest. There were more hounds than she could count, all snaking their way through the parking lot. She backed away from the door, moving down the aisle. Adrianne! She pictured a road map in her mind, narrowed it down as best she could with the images she remembered and more she didn’t remember but which he plucked from her mind. His touch was no longer gentle. She felt his concern as if it were her own. It spurred her to move. Turning, she ran down the hallway, turned a corner and skidded to a stop by her door. Keying her door open with her card, she burst into the room. Nikki lay on the bed, wrapped in a towel, television and radio still blaring. Nikki raised an eyebrow. “You look like shit.” Adrianne slid the bolt lock across the door. Nikki sat up straighter. “Reporters?” “Hounds. More of those black wolf things.” “In here?” Nikki was on her feet before she could finish her sentence. “What’s going on?” “I don’t know.” Exhaustion washed over her in the wake of the adrenaline rush. “Look.” Pulling the cigarette lighter from her pocket, she flicked it open, and stuck her finger in it. “Are you nuts?” Nikki grabbed for her hand. Adrianne jerked back, out of her reach. “Look at it!” They watched as the flame danced on either side of her finger. Nikki batted the lighter out of Adrianne’s hand. It hit the wall and fell to the floor. Taking Adrianne’s hand, she turned it over in her own. The skin wasn’t even reddened.

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“That’s how I survived the crash.” She watched Nikki closely. “How? Why?” Nikki bent down, retrieved the lighter and passed the flame under her own palm. “Ow!” “It’s not a joke.” “Okay. Okay. I can believe this because I am seeing it. It makes sense. A hell of a lot more sense than a miraculous reprieve from a burning plane. Ever sunburn?” “What?” “Did you ever get a sunburn? I’ve seen you slather on the sunscreen, but I’ve never seen you with a burn.” She had to think about that. No, she’d never been burned. Not cooking. Not by the sun. “No.” “Hmm, well, that explains that. I didn’t like thinking there was a God up there playing roulette with our lives.” Nikki dropped the lighter in her purse. “You’re getting your color back. Now, are you sure you saw another one of those wolf things?” Adrianne nodded, too shocked by Nikki’s casual acceptance for words. And why not? Nikki dealt with the fringes of society and their fetishes nearly every day in her bar. But a foot fetish was a far cry from someone who couldn’t burn and who seemed to attract giant wolf things like moths to a lantern. Nikki stepped to the phone and punched a button. “Hey, Brian, yeah, you’re right, it was the best pizza I’ve had in a long time. Look, my friend was just outside and thought she saw a big stray dog.” She paused, listening. “It’s a big dog, Brian. Can you take a peek? Thanks! Thanks so much.” Adrianne flicked off the lights closest to the window, leaving the room lit with just the bathroom lights and the fluorescent glow cast from the television. Nikki turned to her, still holding the phone. “He’s checking.” Numbly, she pointed to their window. She felt the blood drain out of her face. Nikki followed her finger. Four-legged shadows moved across their curtains, their oversized images cast from the parking lot lights. Adrianne managed to put her hand over Nikki’s mouth before she screamed. Adrianne was having a hard time not screaming too. “We’ll get through this,” Adrianne said evenly, trying to make herself believe it. She desperately wished for Navarre’s supportive presence, but he was gone. He’d deserted her. Adrianne dropped her hand. If he even existed at all. “I don’t know what they have to do with us,” she lied, “but I saw what they did to that guy on the road.” Nikki swallowed hard. “Me too.” She reached for her discarded clothing. “I feel like I’m in a bad B movie. All we need is a shower scene and a psycho with a knife.” She pulled on her jeans. “Then I’ve got some bad news. We’re locking ourselves in the bathroom.”

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Chapter Eight “Okay, you win,” Nikki teased, although it sounded forced. “I never thought I’d be eating pizza off a toilet lid,” she whispered nervously. Her cell phone lay beside her. The half-dozen calls she’d placed to Brian at the front desk went unanswered. The pizza was cold, but Adrianne forced herself to eat another piece even though her stomach insisted it was too upset to eat. She was starting to get twitchy, a sure sign of low blood sugar. It’d been nearly an hour since she spotted the hounds. From occasional forays back into the main room, she knew their shadows hadn’t ceased their roving. If she believed in Navarre, then she had to believe those were hounds. And Navarre didn’t want her to meet their master, the Hunter. What kind of creature commanded those hounds’ obedience? She shuddered, pizza untouched. With her head buzzing with wine, the bathroom’s heat light on, and curled up in the coverlet from one of the beds, she fought back the urge to sleep and lost. Her body could only endure so much. She didn’t know how long she had dozed when Nikki finally shook her awake. “Listen!” Nikki hissed. Footsteps echoed down the hallway, a set of hard, fast steps followed by the patter of many light feet. The fire alarm went off in a rush and was abruptly cut off midsqueal. The bathroom lights flickered, then went out. Nikki grabbed her arm. More light footsteps were accompanied by one set of heavy deliberate steps. They heard knocking and muffled voices. “Probably Brian checking to make sure everyone’s okay.” “Could be.” Adrianne pressed herself between the toilet and bathtub, as far away from the closed door as she could get. Both women flinched at the rap, but neither moved. The handle jiggled, then unlocked. The door hit the bolt lock with a clank, then shut, then opened again. This time there was no reassuring sound of a bolt lock offering resistance to their intruder. If an alien could speak within her mind, then another one should be able to undo locks without breaking down doors. What a stupid place to hide, she realized. Trapped. Whoever it was might not recognize her, unless he had a black light or could see her phosphor. Then again, he’d managed to follow her here, hadn’t he? And his hounds had been holding vigil until he arrived. Obviously they recognized her. Nikki flicked open the cigarette lighter and held it up. It lit the bathroom in an unsteady glow, reflecting off the mirror above the sink. The bathroom door handle moved imperceptibly. They watched as the lock flipped to an open position.

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Adrianne met Nikki’s terrified gaze, made a pushing motion with her hands and pointed to their only exit. Nikki nodded. The door moved outward, open. They slammed their full weight against it, flinging whoever was behind it against the wall. Adrianne seized Nikki’s arm and tugged them both into the hallway. The bathroom door smashed back against its hinges. Something or someone growled in frustration. The growl built into a roar, the sound biting into Adrianne’s skull. She wanted to lie down and die right there. The sound ground on. She clamped her hands over her ears as she ran. Nikki shoved her forward when she stumbled. They passed the empty clerk’s desk, dashed through the lobby and paused, gasping for breath, in the parking lot. The winter air was crisp, searing their lungs. Their breaths created puffs of frost in the air. The roar within her skull dimmed. She could at least hear her thoughts now…and her racing heart. “Call 9-1-1, tell them there’s a fire,” Adrianne panted. Nikki complied. “They’re already on their way. Where now?” Where indeed? She glanced around. There were no hounds in sight. She crossed the parking lot at a jog and headed toward the decorative shrubbery separating the hotel from the strip mall next door. “We wait for the police?” She knew they couldn’t outrun the hounds. “Sounds like as good a plan as any.” They crouched behind the shrubs, watching the entryway to the hotel. After what seemed an eternity, but perhaps only five minutes, a police cruiser pulled up slowly, took a pass around the building and finally parked at the entrance. Two officers got out and entered the hotel. Less than two minutes after the police officers entered, someone walked out. He ducked his head as he went through the door. Nikki gasped. Built like a football player, he wore all black. At least it seemed like black. The colors continually shifted, sometimes a shade of gray, then almost purple as if deliberately taunting the human eye. Adrianne shuddered. This was Navarre’s nightmare. This was the unnamed terror that lurked at the edges of one’s peripheral vision when alone in the house or walking down a darkened street. This was the Hunter. Adrianne felt a warning tingle at the base of her neck, almost like the pre-throb that heralded her migraines. The Hunter’s head swung in their direction. She felt rather than saw his searing gaze. If he caught them, she knew they’d both die. She broke cover. “Run! Don’t look back, just run!” They spun around almost as one and ran. Adrianne could feel the debilitating roar building in her skull again.

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The Hunter laughed. His laughter crippled her. It felt as if her feet were churning through mud. Her movements slowed. Nikki grabbed her arm. “Come on!” Crossing through the mall’s parking lot, they headed for the highway. They hurried across the pavement, stumbling into the clump of scraggly brush separating the highway from the frontage road. The laughter continued on in her head, paralyzing her. Her feet continued to slow, tripping her up. Nikki was a step or two ahead of her. Get out of my head! Adrianne silently screamed. The Hunter’s laughter stilled. Adrianne hit a chain link fence and switched direction, running parallel to it. Gravel and chunks of dirty road snow churned beneath her feet, all conspiring to slow her down. The brush snapped behind her and beside her. The hounds! Her lungs ached for air. To her left, Nikki suddenly screamed, then was silenced mid-shriek. “Nikki!” She stopped, spun around, and searched wildly for something to use as a weapon. There was nothing. “Nikki!” she called, frantic. “Easy, lady,” a voice said close to her ear. Whirling, she raised her fists. Her first blow struck a leather-clad chest. She hissed in pain, but it didn’t stop her from striking out with the other hand. That shot met air. Arms closed around her. She flailed in the Hunter’s grasp, hands fisted, striking out where she could. Her arms were seized, pressed tight to her sides. Pressure built at the nape of her neck. She felt as if she were going to implode. “Adrianne, we are here.” A hand folded over her mouth, restrictive, but not overwhelming. It took her a full minute to recognize the voice. “Nikki?” she hissed against Navarre’s palm. “We have her. She is safe.” “Oh thank God.” She sagged against him, the strength draining out of her. Then she jerked up, not sure if she still might be trapped. Dropping the hand over her mouth, he touched her mind then, softly, as he had before, and turned the touch to a caress that made her want to dissolve in a puddle at his feet. Her body leaned limply against his. She marveled at that ability, his skill in disabling her so effectively. She knew instinctively that the Hunter could have done the same. He had been toying with them, like a cat with a trapped mouse. Navarre scooped her up. She couldn’t have fought him off even if she possessed the muscle to do so. Nor did her treacherous body want to. “Where are we going?” she asked wearily. She looked up, finally searching his face. It was hidden in the shadows. 43

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“To safety.” She felt his breath against her cheek. He smelled earthy, of wild things, woodlands, a wind-laden scent that stirred to life some portion of memory which lay dormant until this moment. This was safety. This was rightness. This was someone who did not burn, who bore a webwork of scales across his body as well. Family. Though she loved her adoptive parents fiercely, she was a woman who felt the safest with black-and-white answers. And there were just too many unanswered questions surrounding her birth. She was but a toddler when she was abandoned in the entryway of the hospital on a wintry night. Security cameras caught nothing. One moment the lobby was empty, the next, she lay there curled in a blanket. She’d seen the video. Abandoned. Left without even a name. Yet here was a man that offered her a piece of her heritage and perhaps answers. Was she an alien like him? She wanted to laugh. It came out a croak. She wondered if he could read her thoughts. “If you so desire. I am trying to grant you the privacy your society seems to crave.” “What have you done to me?” Cradled in his arms, she felt so safe, so relaxed. “Loosened your muscles. Eased your flight reflex. Your race is incredibly feckless. Hold on.” Something loomed large in the brush. She squinted in the wan moonlight and made out an oblong mass of taupe, lying like some giant boulder discarded by the last glacier. The boulder had an open mouth and within that, a gray ramp. They moved up the ramp and entered what could only be the Dragoon’s craft. She was set upon a gray blocky-looking couch. Did they have no color other than blacks, grays and browns in their world? For all its plainness, though, the couch was incredibly comfortable. Navarre draped a blanket around her body. Surprise, it was gray. Nikki sat beside her, looking flushed but otherwise unharmed. “Pinch me. Were we just rescued by a horde of gorgeous men? Why? Where are we going? And why is that one looking at you like you were some delicious kind of truffle?” “I don’t know.” What could she tell Nikki? What would she believe? “Are you scared?” Adrianne said in a low voice, eyes focused on Navarre’s back, now turned to them. Other hooded figures retreated behind a panel in the wall, their fading footsteps the only indication they ever existed at all. “Are you kidding? Take me now.” She flung her arms wide across the couch. A blob of gray rose from the floor like thick ink and formed itself into a crude chair. Adrianne was about to bolt when Navarre took a seat in it. The gray ink flowed into chair arms and a backrest. Navarre appeared unperturbed by its motion. Adrianne shrank back. Nikki watched in fascination. “Isn’t that handy?”

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Handy wasn’t exactly how Adrianne would have described the gray liquid. Downright disturbing, and perhaps a sign of delirium, was more like it. And yet, if she wasn’t questioning her own sanity at the moment, she’d be just as fascinated as Nikki. Screw sanity. She reached toward the newly formed chair, and fingered the material. It was warm, yielding to her touch. Her fingerprint remained embedded in the substance. Yanking her hand back, eyes wide, she asked, “What is it?” “Part of the ship itself is malleable. It is completely safe. Your couch is made of the same.” Navarre watched her with veiled amusement. Adrianne rocked back, lifting herself slightly off the couch. An impression of her butt remained. Nikki snickered. “This could be fun,” she murmured, then recovered herself. “Is this an alien abduction?” She appeared more captivated than scared by the prospect. “Abduction?” He raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “I do not know what you mean.” “Stealing us away. Taking us prisoner,” Adrianne offered. Surprised, he sat back for a moment, then leaned forward. “We just saved you from the Hunter.” Confused now, he asked, “Why would we steal you? You came to us willingly.” Nikki gave Adrianne a sidelong glance. “So you’re not taking us off the planet? Torturing and then dissecting us?” She sounded curiously disappointed. “No.” His answer was flat and perhaps a bit disgusted. “We have identified a wooded area that is secure. We will not travel far.” “Can those hounds track us?” Adrianne asked. “The ship blocks any signals you may be unconsciously emitting.” He still seemed somewhat irritated by Nikki’s abduction comment. “Adrianne, you provided me with your location. We have no wish to harm you.” “Timeout.” Nikki made a T with her hands. “Do you know each other? Fill me in, guys. Adri neglected to tell me about you.” She shot her a threatening glance. “To think, all this time I worried and fussed over you because you had no one but that loser, Doug.” Adrianne sat up straighter. “What do you mean?” “Come on! You’ve obviously met before. Who are these guys?” “We have met. Briefly.” She glanced at Navarre. “But not in person.” “And he,” Nikki waved her hand at Navarre, “wasn’t worth telling me about?” Navarre appeared entirely too pleased with himself. Adrianne shrugged, unwilling to pick a fight or take the time to explain. “I thought he was a dream. I met him in the hospital.”

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“I have sat through umpteen one-sided techy conversations, nodding and making sympathetic noises. Do you think you could have bothered to share something like this?” “I said I was sorry,” Adrianne muttered. “No, you basically said you didn’t trust me enough to believe you.” She crossed her arms. “That hurts.” Adrianne rolled her eyes. “I am sorry. I thought I was hallucinating.” Nikki made a disgusted noise low in her throat. She waved her hand at Navarre. “You can’t possibly dream up something like that.” “We are the Dragoon,” Navarre offered finally when it became apparent there was to be no compromise between the two. “Adrianne came to our attention as well as many others when her plane crashed. The Hunter and the hounds being one of the more unsavory creatures. Adrianne carries our bloodlines. We believe her to be our last Queen.”

***** In the whirling red light cast by the fire alarm, Agent Haynes examined the hotel desk clerk’s body. Someone had attacked the man while he was pulling the fire alarm. Clearly the body had been savaged. By what was the mystery. His throat and his heart were torn out, the heart being the more puzzling of the two. It apparently came out right through his shirt and sweater. And it was missing. How Adrianne Harris and Nikki Kitzerow had escaped their surveillance yet again irritated him. Their hotel room was empty. Nikki’s beat-up car was still in the parking lot. That meant they either escaped on foot or were picked up. Neither prospect was something he wanted to file in his report to his supervisor. One of the police officers cleared his throat. “Agent Haynes? The medical examiner is here.” “Send him in,” Haynes snapped. He leaned over the body without touching it. The blood from the missing heart did not trail past the corpse. If it was taken as a trophy, it had to have been bagged up right here. Haynes straightened. Let the coroner deal with the details. His most pressing concern was the lack of Ms. Harris and her accomplice. When they found them, maybe they’d find the hotel clerk’s heart. “Agent Haynes?” Another man approached, winded, but excited. “You’ll want to take a look at what we’ve found across the street.” He inwardly groaned. Not Baker. Fresh-faced and right out of the academy, Baker grated on Haynes’ nerves. How’d the kid manage to get here so quick? Wasn’t he supposed to be dealing with the other body Ms. Harris left behind on the roadside, the one with its throat ripped out? Tonight was just brimming full of weird corpses. 46

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Looking up at the sky, he glanced at the moon. Not quite full. What god did he piss off to be assigned to this case? They crossed the street together, Baker chattering away at him. “We figure they ran through here. We’ve gathered some threads from the shrubs. They entered the highway at this point, still on foot.” Baker paused, glanced both ways for traffic and Haynes rolled his eyes. When he saw nothing but empty road and a few early morning gawkers, the younger agent resumed his monologue and his half jog. “So they either fled or were chased to this spot.” The bushy overgrowth was an unlikely location to hide a getaway vehicle. It afforded poor coverage and with the chain link fence, but one way in and out. Baker scratched his buzz cut, guessing Haynes’ thoughts. “The chain link is uncut.” There were two points of entry into the brush. Broken branches and footprints in the crusty snow marked their paths. “Baker, are you telling me they went in here and never came out?” “Yes sir, in a manner of speaking.” Haynes followed one of the paths. “Lots of footprints around here, bigger ones than what the two women made back there.” “No sole pattern on the shoes,” Baker pointed out. Puzzled, Haynes bent beside one of the prints. There was a deeper indentation in the snow where the heel landed, but Baker was right. No sole patterns. “Take casts anyway.” “Already done. Anyway, this is what I really wanted to show you.” Baker parted the brush. Haynes’ mouth dropped open. The brush was smashed along side the chain link fence for an expanse of five hundred feet or more. Baker wore a smug grin. “What the hell?” He started to walk the cleared length. “Sir,” Baker was all but exploding with pent-up excitement. “I don’t think they escaped on foot. I think they flew.” Flew? Impossible. The snow beneath the brush was melted, but the crumpled branches were not burned. Nothing in his experience trained him for this. “Start interviewing the neighbors. See if anyone heard anything. Something of this size had to make some sort of noise,” Haynes commanded. He studied the area and realized it was primarily a business district. Damn it. Not a home in sight. Well, there were enough fast-food joints. Maybe one of the employees saw or heard something. Baker began to protest, then, after glimpsing Haynes’ face, thought better of it. “I’ll get right on it.”

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Where did a teacher and a bar owner fit into all of this? A plane sans running gear sliding down a runway suddenly halts. A man along a highway gets mauled by a huge dog or wolf. A nineteen-year-old desk clerk has his heart ripped out and although they wouldn’t know for certain until the lab results were back, was probably mangled by the same doglike animal that killed the man on the highway. The pieces were too spread out, too jumbled. But everything seemed tied to Ms. Harris. Did she have a big dog? He hadn’t seen one in their vehicle. Why bother to kill both men? For that matter, why take the heart of the second man? Haynes liked puzzles. All he needed now was the key piece. He needed to find Adrianne Harris.

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Chapter Nine “A queen? Yeah right.” When she saw that Adrianne wasn’t smiling, Nikki’s laughter died in her throat. “He’s serious.” “He certainly thinks so.” Adrianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The couch tried to accommodate her, morphing before she’d even resettled herself. She wished it’d quit doing that. “Well, that puts a whole new spin on things, doesn’t it?” Adrianne glanced around her, looking for a way out, or a hidden camera that might reveal they were on some new reality show. There was neither. “You can’t possibly believe this is really happening?” she asked. Nikki shrugged. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Where were the others that had rescued them? Only Navarre remained. It meant only one thing to Adrianne. The Dragoon were deliberately trying to keep her at ease. Pair her up with one of them. Let her develop a friendship in the midst of chaos, as terrorists often did to their hostages, then pow, throw their demands into the mix when they felt she was suitably influenced by them. Well, they were in for a surprise. She wasn’t dumb enough to fall for that. Navarre’s eyes flashed jade fire as if he were listening in on her thoughts and disagreeing. She tried to tuck them back behind her eyes. Damn him. He was too easy on the eyes. His presence was both reassuring to her body and unsettling to her mind. Couldn’t the Dragoon have sent her some homely-looking character to mediate instead? Her gaze roamed over Navarre, the coppery-tinted blond hair closely cropped and unruffled. He appeared nearly the same as he had in her dream in the hospital, save for a thick leather vest, strapped on at the shoulders and the waist. His dark breeches hugged his muscled thighs and oh my, his perfectly formed butt. She wasn’t a buttocks connoisseur, but watching him, she could quickly become one. “Where are the other twelve?” she finally asked when it was apparent Navarre was enjoying her attention just a little too much and had no intention of providing any unnecessary details. “We do not wish to overwhelm you.” She bet not. Capture her, lock her in their ship, offer her Navarre as a “friend” but God forbid they trounce on her delicate psyche. Nikki nudged her. “Mine was tall, dark and handsome.” She turned to Navarre. “If she’s your Queen, does that mean you’ll do whatever she asks?”

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He raised an eyebrow. “Within reason.” The tone in his voice hinted at requests of a more personal nature. Adrianne colored and hoped she was managing to keep her thoughts to herself. Nikki leaned back, clearly impressed. “Cool.” They seemed to live in separate realities at this moment, she and Nikki. Navarre’s gaze was entirely too prying. Adrianne tried to keep from fidgeting. “What do you want from me?” she asked. “Everything,” he replied, equally as quiet. “You’re the last of a species. You expect me to reproduce.” Her tone accused him of crimes he had yet to commit. “You think entirely too much,” Navarre murmured. Nikki nudged her. “He’s known you for how long?” Navarre kept his eyes locked on Adrianne. Unperturbed, he said, “Nikki, this conversation has turned private. Would you mind if Quince returned and gave you a tour of our ship? I assure you, no harm will come to your friend.” Adrianne wasn’t sure if that was meant to put her or Nikki at ease, but she was certain she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. Whether she didn’t trust her hands or his, she didn’t know. “No.” Nikki ignored her. “Quince is Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?” Navarre’s lips quirked again. “Yes.” Nikki jumped to her feet. “Where’s he at?” “Nikki!” Adrianne turned on her friend. “Sorry, honey. You heard the nice alien, you’re safe.” “This is some bad hallucination. Maybe someone spiked our wine. You can’t leave me here alone.” Adrianne grabbed for her arm. Nikki stepped just out of reach and shot her a disbelieving look. “Things like this don’t happen when you’re tripping,” she said, with an air of authority. “That leaves two possibilities. Either we’re dead or this is real. In any case, I’ve just been offered the chance to be escorted around by a delicious-looking man who swears he’s an alien.” She winked at Adrianne. “I don’t get this chance every day.” Adrianne sat back, shocked. “I don’t believe you!” A panel slid open in the wall and Quince appeared. He offered her his arm. “M’lady.” Nikki put a hand to her heart and turned to Adrianne. “Doesn’t that just make you want to melt in place?” “Yeah, yeah. They’re trying to separate us. Can’t you see that?” “Mmm.” Nikki gave Quince a frank appraisal. She grinned, patted Adrianne on the head, then linked her arm through Quince’s. “Be a good girl.” “Go to hell.” Adrianne stood. 50

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“Relax, I’ll be back. Don’t look so worried.” The panel slid shut, cutting her off from her friend. Adrianne turned on Navarre. “Pretty sneaky. You think you’re so smart.” Navarre appeared unperturbed. “Please sit.” “I will not.” “You have had a traumatic few days. Do not unduly stress yourself.” His voice was mild, expression bland. “You’re looking for a breeder.” That sparked a fire in his eyes, but his face remained composed. “It is very complex.” “Try me.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Will you not sit?” He indicated the couch. Did she finally catch a hint of annoyance in his voice? Good. “No.” “Very well. We are shapeshifters. This is one form. We mate and reproduce in another.” Adrianne sat. “What?” Satisfied that he now had her undivided attention, he continued. “Our base form is what your language terms a dragon. This is a more efficient form for traveling.” She shook her head, unable to grasp all the implications his statement created. “You’ve lost me.” “Your friend could dally weeks on end with Quince and never become pregnant. We breed in our true form only.” She couldn’t hide her confusion. “Then you have no use for me.” When Navarre didn’t immediately respond, she stilled. She had scales on her arms, didn’t she? She slid up her shirtsleeves and ran her fingers over her forearms. In this light, she saw nothing unusual. “You’re trying to tell me I’m one of you?” she choked. Navarre leaned forward and tried to take her hands. She pulled back, twisting them in her lap. “Yes, it is our belief you are able to shapeshift as well.” Adrianne snorted. “You’re crazy. If Nikki wasn’t with me, I’d think this is another hallucination.” “But you are thinking that I am but a delusion. You are humoring me.” He was reading her mind again. “Will you stop doing that!” “Do not broadcast, then,” he retorted, a hint of a sharpness in his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She preferred annoyance to the blanketing mildness he cloaked himself in. “Don’t you think I’d know if I was an alien?” “Does a monkey believe it is a monkey when raised with only humans? What of your parents?”

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“I never knew my real ones. I was adopted.” Her stomach clenched. She knew he must have picked that knowledge from her brain. It made her angry. “Adrianne, you stopped that plane on the runway. With the power of your mind.” “No.” She shook her head. No. “Yes. You did that. When you are roused, you toss your thoughts and emotions all about. One cannot help but hear you.” Navarre stood and held out his hand. “Come. I wish to show you something.” She eyed his hand warily. “Lady,” he said, finally exasperated. “If we wished you harm, we would have left you to the Hunter.” He looked like that was his greatest desire at the moment. “That Fate has wrapped a comely cloak around one so suspicious and cynical is infuriating. Doubt me not or the Dragoon will choose another to deal with you.” “Fine. Why waste your time with me?” “Because we are meant to be,” he hissed out on a breath. “You recognized me.” She tried to deny him, but the words lodged in her throat. Some part of her did respond to him, as if he were a comfortable friend, no, more than that, as if he were her lover. She colored. She had never met him before. She hid her face in her hands. His hand ruffled her hair. “I was harsh.” Her body knew that touch, had ached for it for centuries. No, she was picking up Navarre’s thoughts and they were muddling with hers. He knelt beside her. Taking her wrists in his hands, he pulled them down until she was forced to face him. His eyes were still that brilliant shade of green. This close to him she could see the swirl of color in their depths. Despite the inhumanness of them, the odd slit to the pupil, she recognized compassion. “What is happening to me?” she whispered. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. “You have found your missing self.” “I’m falling apart.” She bit her lip. “Everything is falling apart.” He shook his head. “I will protect you. Come.” He straightened, offering her his hand once again. She reached up and took his hand. Her hand trembled. Something deep inside her unfurled wings, calling to him. His hand closed around hers before she could pull back. Need and duty tore at him. She could feel it through that shared contact. He wanted to taste her, to silence her protests with his lips. She shuddered. Abruptly his emotions were closed off to her. “How did you do that?” He stared at her with a mix of surprise and anger. “Do what?” she asked. He pressed his lips flat. She had the distinct feeling she’d just lost a valuable ally. “Please. I don’t understand what’s going on.”

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“You have a very sharp mind.” The mask of politeness was again in place, but his tone bit like a paper cut. “It’s weak,” she insisted. “It’s broke before.” He paused, his jade eyes probing. “How so?” She hadn’t meant to let him know. His eyes narrowed. She felt his mind touching hers and it was devoid of the tenderness she’d felt before. Flipping over her wrist, he ran his thumb across the scars on her left wrist. “Why would you seek to harm yourself?” She broke his gaze. “My life wasn’t worth living?” “You will not be permitted to hurt yourself here.” What had she expected from him, an alien? Sympathy? She swallowed the lump in her throat. He continued to stroke her scars. “What do you call this refusal to live?” The way he phrased it made it sound like she was a coward. She’d never thought of it as that, only as a release. “Forget I said anything, okay?” She tugged her hand free. Navarre was silent so long, she was finally forced to look at him. His gaze was directed inward, as if she were, as she suspected, forgotten. “We have a word for it,” he said finally. “Trulay.” He led her to the panel Nikki had exited. “Had we not found you, this too, would have been our decision.” His words were like dropping batter into hot grease. She flinched. “Oh.” Her existence kept them from killing themselves. She didn’t want that kind of responsibility. “Why tell me this?” “To make you aware of your importance to us.” To keep you from trying again, she heard. It was as gentle a chastisement as he seemed able to make, laced with understanding. That quiet understanding was more powerful than any drug the doctors had given her. They were in a windowed hallway, the windows looking out onto a forested area. Adrianne stared, open-mouthed, as the ground appeared three stories below. They wound around the edge of the ship, moving continually lower, until they reached a ladder. “You don’t have a tool that just beams you down wherever you wish to be?” she asked. “That is the stuff of fiction.” His tone was once again polite, distant. And this wasn’t? Adrianne stifled a laugh. He lowered himself down, then waited until she’d reached the ground as well. Once down, he took her hand again, and led her to a clearing beside the ship. “Watch.” Dropping her hand, he took two steps away from her. Adrianne blinked, then blinked again. In the moonlight, his form seemed to shimmer and blur. He threw his arms up and back. They split down the middle. One set

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lengthened and became wings, copper membranes edged with jade, the other, short arms sheathing themselves in scales and ending in claws. His body was a deep green, each scale a slightly different shade, so the overall effect was as if one were looking at the dappled canopy of a forest. His underbelly became a shimmer of coppery blond, the shade of the highlights in his hair. A row of overlapping spiked scales ran from his neck, along his spine, to the tip of his tail, the only sign of his emotional state being the nonstop flicking of the tail’s end. Multifaceted eyes, like that of a diamond, but reflecting moonlit rainbows, watched for her reaction. “Oh lord.” Her voice squeaked. She looked up. On all fours, the dragon before her was the length of a bus. When he reared back, he towered over her. Fly with me? he inquired, a now-familiar amusement-tinged voice within her mind. She gave him a bleak stare, trying to recover herself. Fantasy and reality now turned down completely separate paths. She chose the fantasy. He chuckled. Dress warmly. There are leathers beside the ship. She spun around and saw there was indeed a pile of leather at the base of the ladder. “You don’t scare me,” she said, but her insides trembled. She felt his presence within her mind, but he wisely remained silent. She slipped into a pair of fur-lined leather pants and jacket, pulled up the hood and fastened the clasp to hold it shut. A pair of boots and thick leather mittens completed the ensemble. The fur was soft on her cheek, like that of a rabbit. She cringed, wondering what animal it may have come from. “How did you know my size?” You have the same build as Adonthe, one of the Dragoon. She hesitated, then walked to his side. His eyes whirled, a kaleidoscope of color. He extended a forepaw, four claws forward, a fifth claw pointing back. He could rip her apart with one careless move. I will be very careful. His voice rang with indignation. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she closed her eyes. “Okay. I’m just a little worried. I don’t like to fly,” she trailed off. That probably insulted him even more. You will enjoy this, I promise. He clasped her about the waist with one paw, locked her legs with the other and tucked her against his chest. She turned in his grip, pulled off a mitten and laid her hands against the scales. They were smooth to the touch. She ran a finger against the scales. Take care. Too late. The scales were razor-sharp. She never felt the cut, but her skin parted and a single drop of blood welled at its tip. You are hurt.

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“No.” She put her finger to her lips, tasting blood. If she was indeed dreaming, it was entirely too real. Are you ready, then? She’d never be ready. She was terrified. And yet thrilled. Her heart hammered, whether from fear or anticipation or a combination of both, she didn’t know. “Yes.” She slipped her mitten back on. I will not be able to hear your voice speech while we fly. You must speak mind to mind. She swallowed hard again, focused. Like this? Well enough. He boosted them off the ground with a thrust from his hindquarters. Then they were airborne. Her stomach lurched. Nausea set in, her customary flying companion. Close your eyes. For once, she didn’t argue. The pressure in her stomach instantly eased. Stretch out your arms, he commanded. Her hands were wrapped in a death grip around his upper claw. Even cocooned in a plane, she hated to fly. He was asking too much. I will not drop you. Mild reproach filled his voice. Easy for him to say. Really, what did she have to lose? She already survived a plane crash. What were the odds she’d fall from a dragon’s embrace and die? Keeping her eyes closed, she took a deep steadying breath and threw her arms wide. The air rushed around her. She was flying. She lost her fear as she indulged in the sensations around her. The wind caressed her body, whispering a language she didn’t understand. She felt unencumbered, so totally free that she lost sense of her own body. She was but a part of the breeze, like a hawk that dipped and soared in invisible currents. She wanted this, no, needed this. A hunger grew in her, possessed her with a ferocity and desire she had no idea how to soothe. Open your eyes. His voice, although soft, startled her out of her reverie. She peered cautiously through squinted eyes. Her breath lodged in her throat. My God. Eyes wide open now. They were rushing over an expanse of water, his wingtips skimming the half-frozen surface on either side of her. Her heart beat in rhythm with his. She felt it against her back and thudding through her veins. She kept her arms outstretched, the hunger in her insatiable. He soared upward and did a slow roll where she saw nothing but the stars above her. The moonlight caressed her body. A hint of dawn gleamed in the distance. Navarre dipped to the tree line again, slipping through an opening so narrow the branches tickled her chest and arms. She felt him land, a jarring sensation that rippled through his body into hers. Don’t stop, she pleaded.

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Without answering her, he set her carefully free. She stumbled as if unaware she possessed feet. She didn’t realize she was crying until she pulled a mitten free and felt the tears’ heat as they spattered the back of her hand. Please. She didn’t know what her heart asked for. She folded her arms across her chest, leaning against his bulk for support. His wing cupped her body, sheltering her from the breeze. Turning, she dropped her mittens and laid her hands flat against the membranous tissue. Blood to blood, something called deep from inside her, yearning to give birth to wings. The tip of his tail flicked over her shoes. The tears continued to flow. She felt trapped. Sliding to her knees, she stretched out her arms as he had done before transforming before her eyes. Nothing answered her. His body rippled beside her, then he was human again. He dropped to his knees, took her arms and gently lowered them down, then cradled her to his chest. He did not know how to ease the pain he created in her, could only watch as it blossomed and exploded in her eyes. She could feel his guilt as if it were her own, but she had no idea how to wall herself away from him. He had pushed her too hard and too fast. But she had to be made to understand. She had to believe. I believe, she wanted to scream. She buried her head against his shoulder and sobbed. They racked her body, worsening when she tried to catch her breath and stifle them. He gave her no answers, merely stroked her hair and murmured words she didn’t understand into her ear. When she had finally cried herself out and held still, he pulled them apart. He wiped the last of her tears away with the back of his hand. Touching his lips, he tasted her salty tears. “The Dragoon do not cry,” he said softly. She sniffled, embarrassed. “I usually don’t either.” He brushed back a tendril of hair on her cheek with his knuckle. “I am sorry for that. I need you to believe.” “I don’t know what to accept as true anymore.” Flying dragons. A woman who did not burn. A forty-five-year-old woman with a sixteen-year-old’s libido. The last roused her. “Do you know who my birth parents were?” She had to ask. He shook his head, eyes full of regret. “The Dragoon were far-flung and prosperous for many centuries. Then the Hunters came. How your parents managed to escape the purging, I cannot answer.” She trembled in his arms, too afraid to give voice to what burned in her heart. “If they gave you up, it was because they were dying or had been found out,” he continued. Part of her always knew they were dead. She accepted it now. She could see the pain she was causing with the answers she forced out of him, but she couldn’t cease.

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“How did the Hunter find me?” And you, she wanted to ask. How did you dance into my dreams? His face was that of a bronzed god’s, immobile and immune to emotion, but his eyes and voice betrayed him. “You stopped hiding when you halted the airplane.” She stilled, suspended her disbelief and chose, finally, to believe. If this was no more than a deep drug-induced hallucination, she was willing to die in it. “Can I fly?” “I hope to Heavens it is so,” he replied fervently. Then he surprised them both, bent his head, and kissed her. His lips were firm, possessive and impossibly hot. His breath filled her and she tasted fire. The spark continued as he seized her lower lip in his. Their eyes opened, gazes locked for a moment. His were liquid green with the hints of the rainbows she’d seen dancing in their depths. She kissed him back, giving in to the purely physical desire she’d felt for him since she first saw him. She’d never been kissed this way before. The sensation of both being kissed and actually doing the kissing warred within her, his and her thoughts tangling so that she couldn’t identify which was which. His tongue gently traced the inner line of her lips. One hand tangled in her hair. The other cupped her cheek. His thumb stroked her chin and jaw. His mind touched hers, caressed her in places she didn’t know existed and sent hot shivers through her body until everything seemed on fire. She pressed against him, feeling his chest expand and contract. Her world narrowed to a single shared heartbeat between the two, the rise and fall of chests in unison, and a rush of blood in her ears. It was he who separated them. She ached for his touch. This was a hunger she knew how to abate. His eyes were a deep green, heavy-lidded, gold glints now sparking in their depths, lips glistening with her taste. “Forgive me. I should not have taken such liberties with my Queen.” His voice was husky, but his eyes gleamed, not at all contrite. All coherent thought had fled the moment his lips touched hers. “Um, sure.” She congratulated herself on even finding her voice. He pulled them to their feet. “I am remiss. It is nearly dawn and you have yet to rest.” “Rest?” He chuckled, pleased with his effect on her. Way to go, Adrianne. Way to stroke that man’s ego even more. Stroke. A very bad word to use in her current state of arousal. Oh, she wanted to stroke all right. Add devour, possess and ravage to that mix. If Nikki constantly lived with this type of desire, she pitied her. Back in the ship, he led her to a sleeping chamber, a darkened room with two beds. Nikki was already asleep in one of them. So much for her friend worrying about her.

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She sat on the edge of the bed. Navarre removed her fur-lined boots, massaging each foot as he did so. She couldn’t prevent the sigh that escaped her lips. He undid the clasp at her neck, eased off her jacket and then laid a kiss on the expanse of white that was revealed. Her hands crept to his hair, her fingers mussing the mass of gold. It was chenille to the touch, as fine as smooth-spun silk. Her breath hitched. He held completely still. Her fingertip traced the line of his strong jaw, lingering where his pulse beat fast and erratic. She was pleased he was as affected as she. “I don’t want to go to sleep alone,” she whispered. “You are safe here.” “I have nightmares,” she lied. “Don’t leave me alone.” “This is how we chase away the night terrors.” Unrepentant, he kissed her on the cheek, teasingly close to her lips. “Mmm.” She shivered. But he let her slip out of her fur-lined pants on her own. When she lay down, he drew a warm coverlet of gray over her. That was it? Her body demanded so much more. She knew his demanded the same. He stood and returned to the panel in the wall. “Rest easy, Dragoness.” His eyes flashed jade in the darkness. “Navarre?” He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “You called me Erifydal once. Why?” “It was the name you gave yourself at birth. When you called, it is the name I heard.” “Did the entire Dragoon hear me or just you?” “Just I.” She was silent for a long moment. “We’ve met before.” “I’d like to think so.” She propped herself up on elbow. The darkness still hid his face from her. “In another life?” “Perhaps.” “Who am I? Erifydal or Adrianne?” “Only you can answer that, my Queen. Rest easy now and do not dream.” She heard the panel slide shut. “Navarre?” she whispered. But he was already gone.

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Chapter Ten Sleep claimed Adrianne quickly. The bed conformed to her body perfectly, cradling her in a marshmallowy down-like mattress. She said a quiet thank you out loud and felt the wall she was pressed against hum, like the purr of a satisfied cat. She had an uncanny feeling that the ship was sentient and made a mental note to talk to Navarre about it in the morning. That anything five hundred feet long could be alive was mind-boggling. And what in God’s name did it eat? She couldn’t imagine the size of the manure pile it must create. Before she could visualize being suffocated by a giant pile of excrement, she drifted off to sleep. In her dreams she was a sleek and silvery dragon, her body a gleaming iridescent bullet in the moonlight. She soared across the same expanse of water Navarre had taken her to, dipping and rolling in the air currents. The wind shared its secrets with her, whispering of comets slicing its sky, birds twisting in mating flights, fireflies winking away one more time before dying. This was nature’s freedom of choice. She reminded herself that such freedom came with a cost. Doug, for one. After tasting Navarre, though, the thought of Doug’s hands on her was repulsive. Nikki, number two. Nikki had a thriving little business, her bar, The Beast, catered to the fringes. The heavily tattooed, leather-clad, gothic types who listened to screaming music at a decibel level bound to cause permanent hearing loss came to her bar as well as those whose fetishes pushed them out of normal establishments. Nikki had been mother, confidant, counselor and so much more to her. She could not bear to lose her. Doug and Nikki, though, were but dreams within her dreams. She continued to fly. Where she was drawn, she did not know. She felt the strength of her beating wings, the teasing air as it nipped her scales. The night sky spread out above and below her, the stars tantalizingly out of reach. Could she soar that high? Tonight was not the time to tempt Fate. And still she was drawn onward. Eventually, she became aware of other bodies beside, above and below her. They were little more than ghosts in the moonlight, washed-out shadows of other dragons. Their auras were undeniably feminine. They played with her as she flew, shadowing her dips and rolls. An escort? Her personal bodyguards? Or merely spirits roused by her own midnight wanderings? Like Doug and Nikki, they soon faded into the dream’s tapestry. At last she grew tired and landed, settling deep in a nest of broken branches and brambles. Curling up with her tail over her nose, she slept. She woke to a soft noise. A muted light tugged at her eyelids. Nikki stirred, padding past her on her way to another room. Human sounds reached her, running water, the splashing of someone bathing. A bath would feel good, she decided, as 59

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would warm food in her belly. She drifted off again, awoke when Nikki tripped and stubbed her foot on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.” Adrianne rolled onto her stomach, nestled deep in the marshmallow covers. “Mmm, s’okay.” Stretching, she extended her forepaws, sitting back on her haunches. Her wings arched. And she panicked. Where were her wings? She opened her eyes and saw the small pale-skinned human hands before her. Pressing her face to the mattress, she let the last dregs of her dream flee. Only the yearning for her lost shape remained. “That looks relaxing.” Nikki examined her yoga pose. “But I really need to get back to my life.” Adrianne lifted her head. Nikki was up and dressed, her wet dark hair sleek against her scalp like sealskin. Adrianne sighed. “I should call the office. It’s not like me to be that irresponsible. They’ll start to worry.” With the accident, though, no one would expect to hear from her for some time. She was sure her manager had found a replacement instructor for her last class of the year. “At least you have an excuse. I trust Mark and the gang to keep the place running, but I need to do payroll and all those other mundane tasks.” Mark was the head bartender, a forty-something man who wore his gray-streaked hair shoulder length and insisted on calling Nikki “Nicole”. Nikki, for some reason, tolerated it from him even though she’d backhand Adrianne for the same offense. Adrianne propped herself up on her elbows. “You can just suspend disbelief, accept there are aliens and go on with your life?” Nikki rolled her eyes. “Have you seen some of the people in my bar? I wouldn’t doubt that I’ve been serving aliens for years.” Adrianne gave her a black stare. “You know what I mean.” “Well, I’m not somebody’s Queen nor am I being hunted down by some creepylooking dogs from another planet. I kind of figured you’d be hanging out here.” “I haven’t really given it much thought,” she lied. “Wait…let me write this down. You haven’t thought? You’ve managed to not psychoanalyze every little detail? I feel faint.” Nikki sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, yeah, Ms. Drama Queen herself. I mean it’s hard to believe this isn’t just some nasty trip I’ve taken. I feel like if someone pinched me, I’d wake up in the hospital.” Nikki promptly pinched her. “Ouch.” Adrianne grabbed her arm, sat upright and flung a pillow at her. Nikki dodged the projectile. “Still here.” She rearranged herself more comfortably on her bed, sitting cross-legged. “If I were you, and God forbid I was, number one, I’d worry about not ditching your best friend and then number two, I’d dump that loser of a boyfriend before he and the Dragoon meet. Much as I dislike the man, I wouldn’t wish him dead.”

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Would the Dragoon really kill Doug? She knew that happened in some species in the animal kingdom, the weaker male falling before the stronger. Were the Dragoon not that far removed from their animal roots? Really, what had they evolved from? Man? Beast? A bad genetic mix? Maybe they were prime examples of why people shouldn’t be messing with gene splicing. “Doug’s not a loser.” Adrianne sat up. If she admitted he was, what did that say about her? “He was convenient for you. No sense having him get caught up in this. And by the sounds of it, you can have whomever you want.” She shook her finger at Adrianne. “But not Quince.” Adrianne flushed, but shot back, “Pity. I was hoping to tie him up and leave bruises all over his body.” Not that she’d ever done that, but it was exactly something Nikki would and probably had done. “I want him,” Nikki said flatly. “Is this a long-term sort of thing or do I get him back when you’ve tired of him?” she pressed, teasing. She’d never heard such a possessive note in Nikki’s voice. “How can you not want a man like that?” Nikki gushed, sidestepping the question. Then she realized she had revealed too much. Adrianne’s eyes narrowed, but Nikki continued on hurriedly, “Thirteen men at your disposal and if they are all even half as cute as Quince and Navarre, I envy you.” How much had Quince shared with her? Did Nikki really comprehend that he was a shapeshifter? Ouch, she could picture Nikki requesting sexual favors that certainly crossed her own moral boundaries. Stop thinking, she ordered herself. Nothing might have gone on. She’d seen Nikki in action, though. Nikki went through men like some people went through cigarettes, knowing full well the habit would kill her some day and not caring. A month with the same man was the highest level of commitment she’d ever seen from her. And he’d been a Kama Sutra master, or so Nikki said. Pity it had only taken a month to get through all the possible poses. “Go with your gut.” Nikki patted her hand. “Despite the bedhead, you’re looking better than you have in a long time. Adrianne sighed. She did feel better. Just thinking about Navarre’s kiss was enough to make the heat slip through her body like hot lava. A smile crept up her lips, sneaking into her eyes. “Navarre is pretty hot.” “Hot?” Nikki laughed. “Just drive another stake through my heart. I know I’ve never heard you describe a guy that way.” It was Nikki’s turn for her eyes to narrow. “Just what were you and Navarre up to?” “Never you mind.” Adrianne stood. “If you haven’t used up all the hot water, I’m going to grab a bath before breakfast.” “Ha!” Nikki pounced at her, grabbing her shoulder. “You were up to something. Spill it.”

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Adrianne shrugged her off. “I’m bathing, sorry.” She glanced over her shoulder. Nikki was still standing where she left her, a thrilled expression on her face. “I’m so proud. You actually took the initiative.” “Flattery won’t pry any details out of me.” Adrianne turned on the water. “Where’s the—oh!” The bathtub drain sealed itself shut, like a whale closing its blowhole. “Well then, the way I see it, after breakfast you can drop me off at my car, make a trip to Doug’s to break up with him—gotta do that in person or you just look gauche— and then pick up your belongings at the apartment.” Her voice thickened, but she kept her tone light. Adrianne stepped back into the bedroom and gave Nikki a hug. “I won’t forget you. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but we will keep in touch. I promise.” Nikki tightened her embrace. “I’m not going to cry.” She pulled away. Adrianne left her to compose herself, touched that Nikki cared so deeply for her. After her bath, Nikki was waiting with a hairbrush and something that looked suspiciously like a blow-dryer. “I found supplies.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, lips pressed tight. “As their Queen, you need to spend a bit more time on your appearance.” “There’s nothing wrong with the way I look,” Adrianne huffed. She wasn’t a vain person, but that hurt. “Sit,” Nikki commanded. She sat, grumbling under her breath. “Don’t you want to look your best? Especially for Navarre?” She felt herself go hot at the mention of his name. Good morning, Dragoness. As if waiting for his cue, Navarre’s voice drifted lazily into her mind. I wish you wouldn’t do that. You called me. I did not! Are you ready to break your fast? he asked, pointedly refusing to argue with her. She smiled to herself. Almost. The others are anxious to meet you. Would you mind sharing this meal with them? Do I have a choice? You will always. She couldn’t read the tone in his voice, not exactly accusing, more reprimanding than anything else. Yes, I suppose I should. She’d feel safer facing them with Nikki at her side. “The whole crew is going to turn out to meet us this morning,” she warned Nikki. You have nothing to fear, Navarre persisted. Nikki continued to fuss with her hair. “Quince mentioned that last night.”

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But everything to lose. She fidgeted in her seat. “Seems you and Quince got pretty friendly. What else did you and Quince share?” Nikki grinned, her dark complexion glowing like sun-warmed wet sand. “Hold still, I’m almost done.” So much more to gain, Navarre whispered, drifting away. “I’ll share a secret with you, if you share with me,” Adrianne offered. “Tempting.” Nikki paused. “Not a chance.” There was a polite rap at the panel. “Come on in,” Nikki called. “Show time,” she said cheerfully to Adrianne. It seemed an eternity since the entire Dragoon had broke their fast together. They hadn’t exactly chosen each other’s company. As the last of their race, they bonded more from necessity than anything else. At their peak, there were many clans that warred amongst themselves. Queens were stolen and entire clutches destroyed just to exact revenge. Even when the Hunters began their killing spree, it was difficult to put their differences aside and work together. That was one of the reasons why it’d been so easy for the Hunters to kill them off. And just because they happened to inhabit the same ship didn’t make them all friends. Lancet, Graycet and Percet were all brothers, although one could never tell. They fought with one another constantly over petty differences. There was a longstanding underlying animosity between them stemming from their clan’s loss of their last Queen. They shared one common goal, to keep that shame as quiet as possible. Hennison and Henley had served as officers in the Galactic League. They’d given up their posts when they found out they were the last of their clan. Rumor had it that Quince had a Queen, but what became of her was unknown. Barth’s and Verlay’s pasts were even more shadowy. Barth was very jovial, but kept a close wrap on his emotions. Verlay heralded from one of the biggest clans and managed to survive the whole-scale slaughter of it by hiding beneath the body of one of his relatives. Then there was Adonthe. He was a water dragon, unable to fly, but quite agile when he took his flippered form and swam. Together, the remnants of the once-glorious Dragoon could provide a psychologist with a lifetime of fodder. Adonthe prepared the breakfast meal and arranged the seating area, a U-shape with five to each side so all could get equal viewing of their Queen. Each place setting was meticulously set, utensils polished until they gleamed, napkins carefully folded, and a color scheme that would have impressed even the most anal interior designer. Generations of Queens had eaten off the very same plates. It was Adonthe who looked after the more mundane homemaking tasks, the cooking, the cleaning, the mending and the preservation of innumerable Dragoon emblems, all carefully embroidered into tapestries just waiting to embellish their new home. Everything had to be just so for their Queen. 63

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The room buzzed with quiet anticipation, speculation and out-and-out rumor. Navarre paced beside the panel. “You have done well,” Benito congratulated, patting Navarre on the back. “Vespero will chronicle this moment in our history annals. Your name will be spoken upon our children’s children’s lips.” “And if she runs away instead?” Navarre said. Benito laughed. “He will chronicle that as well. Do not spoil this day with worry. This is a time of celebration. We have our Queen. I thought I would not live long enough to see this day dawn.” Would she come to hate him for finding her and revealing her true identity? Navarre could not bear to think of her turning away from him. Not with the taste of her still fresh in his mind. He would be her Chosen. No other. The panel slid open. Navarre stepped forward to take Adrianne’s arm, halted instead and tried not to gape. Nikki caught the break in his composure and smirked. Adrianne’s shoulder-length blonde hair had been pulled back and secured in a knot at the nape of her neck. Loose silvery tendrils framed her face. Her skin was a smooth peaches ‘n cream shade, blue eyes darkened around their edges with a smudge of charcoal. It brought out the gray flecks in their blue depths. Her full lips were painted a soft coral, shiny and wet-looking. A far cry from the frightened woman he had fetched out of a hotel parking lot. She held herself with a quiet confidence. He went alternatingly hot and cold with desire. “Good morning, Dragoness,” he said finally, stiff with formality. He offered her his arm. “I clean up well?” She raised an eyebrow, ruining the effect. By the First Egg, yes. She threw him off-kilter with her candidness. So much was riding on her bonding and mating with one of them. And she understood so little of her role here. He could feel the tremor in her limbs, though, as if she did comprehend, yet her face was composed, her actions measured. She had the makings of a fine Queen. He was proud. “Yes,” he answered. “Every measure our Queen.” She flushed. “Good.” Her nervous smile was for him alone. She glanced around the room at the men waiting for her and smiled as well, but this smile was cool and unruffled. They seated themselves at the center of the U in the tables. He held out her chair for her, and drew it in as she sat. Everyone else then sat as well. She rested one hand on his knee, almost teasingly, he thought, then realized it was for reassurance. He wanted to touch her mind and soothe those taut nerves, but with

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the entire Dragoon assembled to see her, she needed to be able to present herself adequately on her own. He laid his hand over hers. Her thoughts were closely guarded. What did their Queen think of this motley crew? The last of her subjects, they were desperate enough to die for a chance to pass on their genetics through her. He did not pry. Every eye was focused on Adrianne. A thin edge of panic lanced through her closely guarded thoughts. She visibly fought it back. Her hand clenched beneath his. He smoothed it, flipped it over so he could trace the fine lines in her palm. Benito stood. “Dragoness.” He inclined his head. “Benito,” Navarre murmured to Adrianne quietly by way of introduction. “As the eldest member of the Dragoon, please allow me to give you a formal welcome. Forgive our overeagerness. Some of us have waited centuries for this moment to occur.” Adrianne bit her lip, unnerved by that new bit of data, then straightened in her chair. “Thank you, Benito.” Her voice was soft, but grew in volume as she continued. She slipped her hand from Navarre’s and stood, fingers tented on the tabletop. “I would ask your forgiveness as well…and your patience,” she added. “I… This comes as a shock. Please, I wish to meet with each of you, to better understand what I’ve suddenly become a part of. My family has always been very small. To find that I now am blessed with thirteen family members is both heartwarming and somewhat terrifying.” Navarre saw only her, a shining beacon in the room. Courage came in many forms. Her willingness to face them, and to empathize with their situation, went a long way toward their acceptance of her. Although acceptance or not, she was their only chance. She sat then and kept her hands to herself. With her flushed skin and hands twisted in her lap, she looked so vulnerable, yet determined to be strong. Navarre felt some indefinable emotion take possession of his heart. She would be his, he hers. Each member of the Dragoon took their turn, offering their words of welcome, and tried to form a favorable impression with their new Queen. “Like a dessert buffet. Where does one begin?” Nikki remarked quietly. “Shh.” Adrianne focused on Vespero, the last of the Dragoon. “Dragoness, like Benito, I am too old to woo your hand.” Navarre knew Vespero preened like a peacock, to the point of dyeing his gray hairs a dark black. Given the chance, he’d try to bed her. “But I am our chosen historian. This day and all days forward will be chronicled so all will know of the sacrifices you made to bring the Dragoon back from extinction.” “Oh dear,” Adrianne muttered. “Your own personal poet.” Nikki turned a laugh into a cough. Adrianne smiled politely. “And you will fill your books with praise? No descriptions of my bad days, the tantrums, my habit of cursing and saying out loud

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whatever comes to mind?” She said it all in such a serious manner she actually caused Vespero to stumble over his words. “Dragoness, history cannot be a one-sided portrayal of one’s best assets.” She regained some of the former confidence Navarre had seen in her at the hospital. “I’ll have to convince you otherwise, Vespero.” She flashed him a winning smile. Vespero sat, speechless. Altarre nudged him in the ribs, teasing him. They had never known Vespero to be at a loss for words. It was good to see humor restored to the Dragoon. Vespero gave her a small smile. “Your sense of humor will be noted.” “And her best friend’s incredibly good looks,” Nikki added under her breath. “I’ll make sure he adds that.” Adrianne turned to Navarre. “After breakfast, Nikki will need to be returned home. I wish to go along and pack some of my belongings.” The Dragoon would frown on her leaving. They couldn’t adequately protect her in her world. “We can replace your personal effects,” Navarre offered, knowing she’d argue. Adrianne shook her head. “Not all of them. I have to explain things to Doug too, probably make some plausible excuse for leaving work as well. You can’t expect me to abandon my life just like that.” That’s exactly what they expected her to do, but Navarre could sense her angst, despite the tight shield she kept over her thoughts. He kept his expression neutral. She wishes to go home, he said to Benito. Impossible, came the reply. To collect her belongings. Sever some ties. It would be too difficult to protect her. He would fight this battle for her. She needed some tie to her past to anchor her in her new present. Her mind is set on this. Ask the others. “Who is this Doug?” he asked, stalling. He chose that direction well. She colored and glanced at Nikki. Nikki paused, food halfway to her mouth. “You mentioned him, not I.” “A close friend,” she said warily. “Male?” he questioned, voice tight. He felt rage first. How dare someone else touch her? Common sense quickly extinguished that flame. He was foolish to assume she was untouched especially since he, himself, was not. “Yes.” She met his gaze, anger simmering in her eyes. So she wasn’t totally cowed by them. Good. “You cannot reveal our presence to him or your birthright.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. “As if he’d believe me.” What was this Doug to her? He wanted to demand answers, but that was not his place. His jaw worked. It was his responsibility to bind her to the Dragoon, despite his 66

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own emotions. “Then you have nothing left to say to him.” He knew he sounded harsh and regretted the words immediately. Her eyes flashed fire. “You can’t censor who I talk to or tell me what I can or can’t do. Maybe now’s a good time to have a few questions answered. Do you expect me to leave Earth? Am I supposed to be content with being escorted by one of you at all times? What about this Hunter? Will he try to harm Nikki? Do you expect me to just smile and look pretty without a thought in my head?” “Good questions,” Nikki said around a mouthful of food. “How about this one? When do you expect her to start popping out kids?” “Nikki!” He had expected the denial and now the rage. What he wasn’t prepared for was the vibrating aura of wrath she projected without even knowing it. They knew she had psi talents. She wouldn’t have been able to stop the plane or hear him half a universe away otherwise. He was uncertain how to handle an irate Queen. If she was one of the Dragoon, he’d have walked away and waited until she could think rationally. He didn’t have that option. Conversation stilled. The Dragoon were a discreet lot, though. All eyes continued to focus on their plates and their meals. “We have not discussed a permanent residence,” Benito interjected while Navarre tried to keep his composure. The woman was maddening. Adrianne appeared oblivious to his state. Although he, himself, could not have defined just what he was feeling. Possibly it was the human equivalent to jealousy. If he could sense her emotions, why could she not discern his? She was their Queen, the only person standing between the Dragoon and extinction. He wanted to take her outside and fly with her, to drive her mad with her own hunger to soar. She’d seen reason then. Be careful, Navarre cautioned Benito although that was probably obvious to even the most psi-dense of them. “Arrangements could be made to remain on your planet. Perhaps in a warmer climate?” Benito offered. “The Hunter, however, is a grave concern. It is why we wish to keep you safe within the hull of our ship.” “Nikki has no need to fear him. He seeks only you,” Navarre added. “And children?” she prompted. Benito met Navarre’s gaze, wordlessly yielding the conversation to him. Coward. “When you have become more acquainted with us, we will, of course, discuss this.” Her plate of food was barely touched. The anger still simmered in her eyes, but she held it in check for now. “It is an important subject.” “To us as well,” Navarre answered, hoping his emotions weren’t as transparent as hers. He cursed to himself, then saw a flash of emotion in her ocean blue eyes that stilled his own. Fear. She was truly afraid of what they meant to do with her.

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Immediately contrite, his ire vanished. Of course, she was like a young dragonet now. It was his duty to assuage her doubts. “I promise to answer any questions you may have. Now is not the appropriate time.” She made an effort to eat and sipped at their rea, a warm coffee-like beverage. It was not like her coffee, but she was gracious in her attempt to sugar it down enough for her liking. “I wish to stay near Nikki right now,” she said. Her tone was firm, but not commanding. “And Doug?” he probed. The name seared his tongue, but he succeeded in keeping his voice neutral. She raised her chin a fraction, her look defiant but her voice smooth. “Yes, perhaps Doug too.” Benito shot Navarre a quizzical look. She has a mate. This Doug. He bit off each word. He did not have to censor his feelings around one of his own. A complication we had not considered. The others do not wish to release her, but her agitation eats at them all, he said to Navarre. Perhaps with familiar possessions around her, she will settle down and accept her fate. An agitated Queen does not make for a healthy clutch. Again, he sensed they were relying on him to keep her steady. They should have picked his brother, Altarre. He was the empath. “We will escort you home but we cannot leave you alone,” Navarre said. “But—” she began. Nikki elbowed her hard. “Sounds good.” She laid her fork on her plate and gave the roomful of men a winning smile. “When can we go?” Adrianne scowled at her plate, but kept silent. For once, Navarre was grateful for Nikki’s presence. She shot him a you-owe-me look. “They are trying very hard to please you,” Nikki said a little later on as they waited in the outer windowed hallway for their escort. Adrianne groaned. “I know. I know. I have this hunch that I’m nothing more than a little breeder for them. You’ll note that none of them conveniently answered that question.” “I noticed.” And it worried her too. Nikki smoothly switched subjects. “Even Benito is good-looking. And you have free rein with them all. I’m so jealous.” “Except Quince,” she replied, without turning around. She pressed her palms against the glass. “What will I tell Doug?” “That you found someone else?” Nikki offered, a trifle too gleeful. “I doubt he’ll be heartbroken.”

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True, but she didn’t want to think about all the time she wasted the last couple of years in a dead-end relationship. “How about my friends at work? Ernie at the diner? The police?” She turned toward Nikki and thrust her hands in her pockets. “I’m a lousy liar.” And she was desperately grasping at something to force her to keep her life as it was. The sad fact, in all its depressing glory, was other than Nikki there was very little tying her to her present life. “You’re getting married to someone filthy rich. You’re moving and when you know which house of his you’ll be living in, you’ll forward your address.” Adrianne rolled her eyes. “It’s a great lie,” Nikki insisted. “Do I look like a person who could fall in love just like that?” Anybody who knew her at all would see through that one. “No, but you are, aren’t you?” Nikki lowered her voice. “I can see it in your eyes. You wouldn’t have given in to them so easily elsewise.” “You’re nuts.” But she felt a niggling feeling of doubt creep in. She was staying with them to learn how to fly. That’s all. She’d decide what she wanted to do once she mastered that. “Navarre patronizes me. And I barely know him.” “He’s trying to protect you.” “He’s arrogant.” “And you’re not?” “I don’t want to be coddled.” She sidestepped Nikki’s question. Nikki threw up her hands. “Listen to you. They could cart you off to God knows where and no one would be the wiser. And no one could stop them. The point is, they haven’t.” “I didn’t ask to be anyone’s Queen,” she replied sullenly. “And I doubt you’d have been first on their list either.” Nikki sighed. “Why couldn’t it have been me?” “What would you have me do?” She flung herself away from the window to pace the hall. “Work with them. Try to understand where they’re coming from.” “I understand,” she said through clenched teeth. “What they don’t realize is I need independence, my own personal space—” She cut off her rant mid-sentence. The panel slid open and Navarre, Quince and Altarre emerged. Adrianne leaned against the wall, trying but failing to look nonchalant. Nikki let out a low whistle. They had dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Their footwear was still undeniably odd, more boots than shoes, but tucked beneath the hem of their jeans, it was unremarkable. And any woman with working hormones would never notice their shoes.

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Adrianne couldn’t help but notice how the thin cotton fabric hugged Navarre’s broad chest. His dark blue jeans fit him all too well, the denim cupping his snug bottom. Her fingers itched to run all over his body, and probe the shadowy muscles that rippled beneath his shirt. It was difficult to mask her thoughts from them. Nikki made no effort to do so. Altarre blushed under the scrutiny. He was his brother’s height, with the same tanned skin tone, but hair the color of dark chocolate with the same coppery highlights as Navarre. “Have we adequately disguised ourselves?” Navarre asked, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. You are broadcasting again. Bug off! she retorted, embarrassed. “You’ll draw attention wherever you go,” she grumbled. Navarre arched an eyebrow. She supposed he had no clue what the slang meant. Too bad. He could hear her thoughts. He should be adept enough to read between the lines. Nikki shot Adrianne a dark stare. “In a good way.” Altarre’s blush deepened. “We’ve decided your vehicle will be the least inconspicuous. We have a smaller craft which will drop us discreetly off.” Navarre offered Adrianne his arm. She refused it. He sighed. Nikki’s eyes twinkled. “Five people in my car?” It was Adrianne’s turn to sigh. At least she and Navarre had frustration in common. If this had been happening to Nikki, she’d be just as amused as Nikki was. Twice as disbelieving, but just as thrilled to be a part of the fantasy. Being crammed between Navarre and Altarre in the car would put her uncomfortably close to Navarre. Unless that was the Dragoon’s intent, to foster her off on Navarre as soon as possible. That was it, wasn’t it? Sure, he was really good-looking, and a great kisser, she grudgingly added, but beyond physical attraction, there was nothing more. She didn’t believe in reincarnation, did she? She straightened her shoulders, unable to even lie convincingly to herself. She knew him. She didn’t know how, but she knew Navarre intimately. Perhaps she’d stolen his memories from his mind without knowing what she was doing. No, every nerve in her body thrummed when he touched her, claiming him as her own, as if they were soul mates. What a ridiculous thought. She was sane and logical-thinking. The concept of being destined for just one person in the universe was not logical. It was inanely romantic. “I am eager to meet your mate, this Doug,” Navarre said finally, painfully polite. If his eyes flashed jade fire, she tried not to notice. “He is not my mate.” She stumbled over her words. “He’s…well…a good friend.” “Nikki is also a good friend, is she not?” Navarre asked.

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“Yes, but not that way.” Damn him. She shot Nikki a pleading glance. Nikki snickered. “We are looking forward to getting to know our Queen better. Please excuse our overeagerness,” Altarre said. Quince looked downright dangerous, dressed all in black with a face as still as stone. Navarre’s painfully polite expression hid anything he might be thinking. Only Altarre appeared truly optimistic. “I can’t wait,” Adrianne muttered. Less than an hour later, Adrianne found herself wedged in the backseat of Nikki’s car between Navarre and Altarre while Nikki chatted nonstop to Quince, seated beside her. The heat of Navarre’s body pressed against her. The scent of him surrounding her and the constant necessity of censoring her thoughts was making her irritable. Navarre, for his part, kept his hands to himself. That was even more frustrating. Why wouldn’t he touch her like he had last night? She gritted her teeth. She wouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t make the first move. Maybe last night had been a fluke. They’d both been caught up in each other’s emotions. “You have a beautiful planet,” Altarre offered when the silence became too much to bear. “Will you really let me stay here?” Adrianne glanced out the window. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Altarre was quiet for a moment. “Ours is destroyed, Dragoness. We have no home but the craft and even it has grown weary of traveling.” “I hope you are not pinning all your hopes and dreams on me.” Navarre shifted beside her. “We have none without you.” “That’s a poor backup plan,” she crabbed. Couldn’t he let her have a reprieve from her new melodramatic responsibilities for even one moment? Their extinction wasn’t her fault. Altarre was more sympathetic. “It is a great pressure we put on you?” She wanted to shoot back with a sarcastic comment, but she saw sincerity in his gaze. “Yes,” she whispered. She looked away. She couldn’t stand the sympathy any more than the overload of responsibility. Navarre tapped the clenched fist on her knee. She kept her gaze focused straight ahead. Altarre is an empath. He can read your emotions. She swung on him, teeth bared. He met her gaze with his expressionless mask. You can’t just pop into my head without asking permission first! Forgive me. I only wished to explain. His mental presence withdrew, leaving her yearning for it even more. And despising herself for wanting him so badly. “Can you hear what each other say in mind speech?” she asked Altarre.

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“I can tell you are speaking, but beyond that, no, not unless I am invited or forced myself in. That would be a breech of etiquette.” “Oh. Good.” Ah, common courtesy existed within the Dragoon’s social structure. Like saying “Bless you” after someone sneezed. She wondered just how many of them abided by the “laws” of courtesy. Why won’t you touch me? she asked finally, afraid to meet Navarre’s gaze. I should not take liberties with my Queen. You need to be able to objectively choose a mate when the time comes. Aha, Altarre and Quince were the dampening factor. You want me, she persisted. You have a mate, this Doug, he shot back. Did she detect a note of hurt in his mental voice? She discreetly reached for his hand, but he withdrew it. “Do you find us so repulsive that the idea of mating disgusts you? Or do you have another aversion to helping us?” Altarre asked. Beside her, Navarre went rigid. “What? No. You’ve kind of overwhelmed me.” And given her no chance alone to think things through. “We have waited so long.” Altarre’s voice was wistful, low and throaty, with an accent that turned her insides to mush. She wanted to curse them all. “Centuries,” Navarre added. Were we fools to wait so long? I can’t think with you dropping comments into my head. She aimed a venomous look, expecting him to be watching for her reaction, but he kept his face turned away from her. “Almost home,” Nikki called out cheerfully, and a trifle anxious. She’d been half listening to the conversation going on in the backseat. Adrianne’s frustration reached a fevered pitch. Her head ached from trying to tuck back her thoughts and guess just what Navarre was thinking. “Damn you, I wish you’d figure out what you want,” she exploded at Navarre. All the windows in the car cracked.

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Chapter Eleven The windshield crackled as if a baseball smashed it, only there was no offending projectile, just a spider web of fractures. “Omigod.” Nikki swerved. Navarre seized Adrianne and shoved her head into her lap. Quince grabbed the steering wheel and straightened the car out. The pressure instantly eased in Adrianne’s mind, as if a rubber band had just snapped. Nikki continued to drive, albeit more slowly. “Need air?” Altarre rolled down the cracked window as if nothing were amiss, but his voice was strained. The cool winter air washed over the exposed skin on the back of her neck, the wind’s caress soothing. “What was that?” Nikki demanded. “An emerging psi’s talents can be unnerving.” Altarre eased Adrianne’s head out of her lap. “Look at me.” She complied without protest. He examined her eyes closely, laid the back of his hand against her forehead and held her wrist for a few moments. She could vaguely feel him rummaging around in her head. The tingle at the nape of her neck became a fullblown brass band. Satisfied, he dropped his hands and gaze. The orchestra receded to just an irritating tinkle of bells. She rubbed the back of her neck. Navarre cleared his throat. “Forgive me.” She was too startled to do anything but nod. “I did that?” Terror warred with awe. This was a side of her she wasn’t sure she could accept. She felt as if she was standing outside herself and calmly viewing her handiwork. How could this skill serve any purpose? She could hire herself out to a demolition crew. She swallowed the nervous titter. How many more surprises were waiting inside her? So she could stop objects, obviously the plane, and now she could break glass as well. Well, well. Wouldn’t her parents have been pleased? Which parents? her insidious mind asked. Adrianne shuddered. “Quite a power-laden talent.” Navarre’s breath tickled her cheek. She pressed against him, her back to his chest. She heard the rumble of his words in his chest before he spoke again. “Some gifts manifest themselves only under extreme adversity.” “I could have killed us.” Dismayed, she met Nikki’s worried glance reflected in the rearview mirror.

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“Navarre would have prevented that,” Altarre replied in a slightly shaken voice. Would you not have? “I heard that.” She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples. She surprised me. It will not happen again. To Adrianne, Navarre said gently, “Pardon this last intrusion, but I need to try to lock some of this skill away until you can be formally trained.” “Sure. Sure.” She turned in his grasp, trembling like a leaf and hating herself for being weak. He tucked her head beneath his chin. She felt a heaviness in her mind, then nothing more. She was acutely aware of Navarre’s arms wrapped around her and his solid chest lending her his support. So were her nipples. They pressed against him, painfully erect. “Don’t get too cozy.” Nikki glanced in the rearview mirror, still unnerved. “We’re home.” I want you, Navarre whispered in her mind. More than every breath I take. But what I want wars with what is proper within the Dragoon’s laws. “I don’t understand your laws,” she muttered, suddenly too tired to play mental games any longer. “I know.” He touched her cheek then, just a brush of his knuckles against her skin. She felt Altarre’s gaze on them. Adrianne kept her hands clenched, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t trust the emotions coursing through her. She looked up at Navarre through the drape of her hair. He wore a stern, somewhat distant expression on his face. She understood it now. This was his public mask. What she’d glimpsed last night, washed in moonlight, was a true piece of himself. Did he share that with other members of the Dragoon? “It will get better. I promise.” Navarre shifted slightly so she was forced to pull away from him to keep her balance. Altarre opened the door and offered his hand to help her out of the vehicle. “I am the Dragoon’s healer. I can aid you as well with the headaches. You’ll probably have one later. Navarre always does. You need only ask for my assistance.” “Thank you.” With one thought she cursed them for finding her, with the next she felt indebted. “Does Navarre share this same propensity for randomly destroying things?” Altarre smiled. “It wasn’t easy to be raised in his shadow. Psi-born are a notoriously unsteady lot.” “But you’re his brother.” “Growing up, I practiced a lot of my healing on him.” Altarre drew her out of the car and laid a steadying arm on her until Navarre appeared and took over. “What talents we possess are either a blessing or a curse, depending on who you speak to.” She looked at Quince, Nikki’s arm tucked neatly through his, although he wasn’t fighting her. “What do you think?”

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“They are fine dragons to have at one’s back when the enemy knocks,” Quince said. “You guys need to loosen up around each other.” Nikki tugged on Quince’s arm. “Haven’t you been together for centuries? Shouldn’t you be a bit more relaxed?” “Our Queen is exposed. This is no time to let down one’s guard.” Quince stared at Navarre. Navarre tipped his head. “You are correct. It will not happen again.” The Beast was a brick-and-mortar building of bygone construction. Ground level served as the bar. The second story was Nikki and Adrianne’s apartment. Adrianne loved it as much as Nikki. From the curved bricks arching over the windows to the ornate gargoyles beneath the eaves, the building spoke of charm and class. Lace curtains peeked out of the upper-story windows while the lower-story ones were sheathed in leather shades. Nikki inserted a large key into the door and punched in the code to disable the security alarm. “I could really get used to having you around,” Nikki said to Quince. “Sure I can’t hire you on as a bouncer?” Quince smiled, a look that unexpectedly softened his dark features, but made no reply. Nikki’s heart surrendered. “Welcome to my baby.” She opened the door and flipped on the lights. The place was spotless. A caged stage stood in one corner, the silver bars gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. Barstools were sheathed in leather, with legs made of chrome. The bar top was polished chrome as well. “I love my employees,” Nikki murmured, seeing everything in the rigid order and standard of cleanliness she demanded. She headed for her office behind the bar. “They’re all getting fat Christmas bonuses.” “I am impressed.” Adrianne ran her finger down the bar. “You’ve never left it alone for this long.” Nikki poked her head out of the office door. “Well, there’s still things undone. I need to take inventory, order my Christmas party supplies, do payroll.” Her voice faded as she ducked back in the office. Navarre approached the cage. “What goes on in here?” Nikki entertained everything from semi-nude dancers to bondage performances. The level of detail depended on the private-ness of the party and the whims of its clientele. A large swing, bolted to the ceiling, was tucked away in one corner. The performances were usually not to Adrianne’s liking, but Nikki catered to a select crowd. “Umm…” Adrianne began. Nikki stuck her head back in the bar. “I’m not sure what your tastes are, boys, but some night you will have to come to one of my shows.” She winked at Adrianne.

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She couldn’t stop the nude image that came foremost to her mind. Adrianne had the satisfaction of seeing Navarre flush. “You engage in public acts of intercourse?” he hissed. “Me? No. Others, yes. And there’s a law against sex in public. Probably several of them.” Adrianne folded her arms across her chest. Altarre slipped up to the stage, fascinated with a set of chains and fur-lined handcuffs. “Women willingly submit to this?” “Men too,” Adrianne said. The room seemed suddenly uncomfortably warm. She didn’t want to know what they were thinking. “I live upstairs.” She headed behind the stage, her entourage in tow, and up a flight of stairs. She turned the doorknob. That was odd. The door was already unlocked. Nikki never left her door unlocked, even when they were home. She must have left in such a hurry that she forgot. While the six-paneled wood house door was original to the building, the living room was done in a sleek modern taste. Nikki usually entertained her boyfriends here. Few made it to her bedroom or even lasted overnight. The couch was red leather, the carpeting a plush white Nikki religiously cleaned nearly every day. A plasma TV wrapped around one corner. A silver faux fireplace stood opposite the couch. Out of habit, she slipped off her shoes, and padded across the carpeted floor stocking-footed to the kitchen. To the left was her bedroom, to the right Nikki’s, and a shared bathroom lay straight ahead, conveniently between the two rooms. Home. She didn’t realize how much she had missed it. She wanted nothing more but to crawl under the bedcovers and pray everything was back to normal when she dared to peek back out. She glanced over her shoulder. Copying her gesture, the men had just finished slipping off their boots. Wow, one point to the aliens. At least they could be trained. She almost laughed out loud. Opening her bedroom door, she froze. Nix the crawl-under-the-covers idea. Someone was already in her bed, actually two somebodies, and judging by the lingerie scattered about the room, one was female. The sound of Navarre’s approaching footsteps had her closing the door immediately. Well, that explained the unlocked apartment door. She couldn’t quite process what she saw. She hmphed to herself, brow furrowing. That was her Doug. She knew his body by first glance. The mop top of rumpled sandy hair he usually kept slicked back, now poking above the covers, was the giveaway. Oh, Doug. The wash of sadness was overwhelming. “What is amiss?” Navarre approached her while Altarre remained in the kitchen, examining the toaster.

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“Nothing.” The numbness gave way to white-hot anger. How dare he! Her emotions warred with dumping a bucket of ice water on the pair to just leaving Doug a note and walking away from it all. This was her house! She felt her cheeks grow hot. “Adrianne.” Navarre’s voice was low, gaze penetrating. “I am not a fool. What are you hiding?” She heard Nikki’s footsteps in the hall. “How’d you get in?” she called. “I didn’t know we had a spare key. I should have known you’d hide one.” She passed through the kitchen, took the toaster away from Altarre who was now holding it upside down above his head and peering into it, and pecked Quince on the cheek. “I can’t believe how great the guys were. Not even a whip or chain out of place…” she trailed off, spotting Adrianne’s face. Grabbing Adrianne’s arm, Nikki pulled her back into the kitchen. “The bastard,” she hissed, guessing what lay behind the door. “I guess it’s good news,” Adrianne said after a long moment. Navarre followed them, expression dark. Quince cracked open the bedroom door, then closed it as softly as Adrianne had. His face was impassive. “I don’t know what makes me madder, that he’s using our place as a bachelor pad or that he left the door unlocked.” Adrianne took a wineglass out of the cabinet, opened the refrigerator and calmly poured a glass of wine. She handed the glass to Nikki, then pressed the bottle to her lips, tipped her head back and took a long swallow. Nikki stared at her, open-mouthed. Yeah, she wasn’t normally a drinker. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” “Adrianne,” Nikki began, then lifted her glass toward Adrianne with a sigh. “You’re right. Not this way, of course, but it’s over with now.” Adrianne wordlessly nodded. The alcohol was doing wonders on the constriction she felt in her chest. She took another drink out of the bottle. “Bar’s closed on Tuesdays. Nobody should have been poking around last night. Nothing looks out of place.” Nikki set the wineglass on the counter, then took a quick peek in her room. Satisfied, she returned. “Kitchen’s too small for all of us, boys.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. “Why don’t you wait for us in the living room?” Altarre slipped out without protest. Quince did not budge, his arms folded across his chest. Navarre remained close to Adrianne’s side. Adrianne was again surprised that Quince was Nikki’s choice. Normally she fell for the more submissive types. Part of the reason Doug bugged Nikki so much was the way he spoke to her, as if she were but a servant to cater to his whims. Of course, he didn’t treat Adrianne like that or she wouldn’t have had sex with him. That didn’t make a whit of difference now. He was sleeping with someone else. And she didn’t care whether he treated that woman like dirt or not. Actually, part of her did care and did

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note he didn’t have any qualms about sleeping with someone else in her bed. What did that say about how he really felt toward her? Respect obviously fell out of the picture. To hell with his manners too. “Your mate is here,” Navarre guessed or did he read her thoughts? She was too caught up to worry about stray thoughts. “With another?” he asked. “He’s not my mate and yes, he’s here with someone else.” She spat the last words out, not realizing how bitter she felt. Navarre took one step back. “Do you wish our assistance in removing him?” Adrianne was too angry right now to care how it all looked to the Dragoon. “Not at this moment. Nikki.” Her voice was deadly. “Do you mind if I make a mess?” “In this case, no.” “Bring me two of your pillows.” “May I suggest a cane?” Nikki said teasingly, then noticed the tears starting to form in Adrianne’s eyes. “On their way. Have another drink.” Adrianne rummaged as quietly as possible through the cupboards, collecting supplies and polishing off the bottle of wine as well. “In our world it would not be uncommon for our Queen to burn the rogue and his whore alive,” Quince said. Adrianne stiffened. “No one will be dying over this.” She spun around, glaring at Quince and Navarre. “Do you understand?” Quince pressed his lips tight, obviously disagreeing with the seriousness of the matter. Navarre watched her carefully, as if uncertain how to treat her while she was in this frame of mind. “How about a finger as a souvenir?” “Ugh.” She turned away from the pair, and tossed back Nikki’s half finished glass of wine as well. Oh, that was going to be a mistake in a very short while. Nikki didn’t keep cheap wine in the house. Her head buzzed, but she felt deliciously warm. She wanted to kill Doug, figuratively, not literally. Although if he got hit by a truck while he was on the way home… She dismissed the fantasy. Right now, she itched for revenge, something to salve her pride. Later, reason would kick in, probably skipping hand in hand with the hangover. She supposed Vespero would be recording this in his blasted history of her as well. Not if she had anything to say about it. Nikki was right as usual. She didn’t really love Doug. It didn’t hurt her so much now to know he slept with another woman, that hurt would come later and wine wouldn’t easily wash it away, but to have him stoop low enough to do it in her own bed, that was unforgivable. He didn’t respect her. She was but a convenient toy for him, little more than an unpaid whore. She derailed that miserable train of thought before she burst into tears.

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She finished filling the water pitcher with cooking oil and food coloring. Nikki returned with two pillows. She handed them to Quince. “I’m going out to his car to help myself to his CDs.” Adrianne paused. “Nikki, don’t stoop to his level.” “Didn’t you buy him some of those? Isn’t he sleeping in your bed with some girl with low morals like myself?” “Would you sleep in another woman’s bed?” “Depends on how drunk I was.” She turned to Quince. “Slit the pillows.” She eyed Navarre’s stone face. “I think you need to join your brother in the living room.” “I will protect my Queen as I see fit,” Navarre retorted stiffly. She shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Quince pulled a knife out of his pocket, flicked it open and slit the top of the feather pillows. “A childish prank for a serious crime,” he muttered. “No killing,” Adrianne repeated, wondering at how far she’d traveled in just a few days. She never thought she’d be uttering those words. Tiptoeing down the hallway, she opened her door again. The creep was actually buck naked and spooning his prize. His sleeping partner was wearing a garter and one stocking yet. Her bright red fluff of hair was tangled, a sign of their frantic lovemaking. What had Doug promised her? Had he whispered the same things in the redhead’s ear as he whispered in hers? Childish and immature, huh? She poured the cooking oil mixture over Doug’s form, snatched a pillow from Quince and sprinkled feathers all over a now-sputtering, upright and confused Doug. Immensely satisfying, that was what it was. She splashed the rest of the cooking oil in his face. Try getting that out of your precious hair, she thought. “What the—? Adri?” His voice changed when he saw her. The redhead covered herself up with a bedsheet, eyes wide. Her pale skin had red spots splattered high on her cheeks. “You, I gave the benefit of a doubt to.” Adrianne jabbed a finger at the redhead. “Collect your things and get out of my apartment.” “Doug!” The woman struck Doug across the back of the head, then made a face as cooking oil dripped from her hand. She drew herself up, head high, gathered her clothing and walked to the door, still mostly naked. She eyed Quince and Navarre. “Looks like you found your own playmates as well,” she said in a purr, licked her lips, then left the room. “You!” Adrianne pointed to Doug. “Wait a minute. Who are these guys?” Doug’s eyes narrowed. “None of your business,” she retorted. “Are you insane? What were you thinking, bringing another woman into my apartment?”

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“I was thinking,” he said icily, “that I hadn’t seen my girlfriend in over three weeks. Reporters have been hounding me since your plane crashed. I needed some sort of relief. She doesn’t mean anything. I just met her at a bar last night. There’s still us.” He glanced at Navarre and Quince. “Or isn’t there?” “How many others have there been while I was away?” “None,” Doug said sullenly, looking away. “It doesn’t matter,” she lied. “And I don’t believe you. Don’t bother getting your stuff, I’ll pack it for you.” She snatched his pants lying on the floor at his feet, crossed the room to the window, opened it and flung them on the sidewalk. “Fetch.” “Adri?” He switched tactics and began to cajole. “Do you really want to throw everything we have away?” She couldn’t believe his tone had actually worked on her in the past. What a fool she was. She picked up his shirt and tossed it out the window as well. “Adri, damn it.” He turned to Navarre and Quince. “Look, I don’t know who you are but my girlfriend and I need some privacy.” “They’re staying.” Adrianne threw his shoes out the window. Doug crossed room and made a grab for Adrianne’s arm. Navarre caught him by the shoulder before Doug could reach her. “This is between me and Adri. Back off.” Doug spun in Navarre’s grasp, shoving against Navarre’s chest to free himself. Navarre’s eyes sparked green, flared for an instant, then settled to a quiet simmer, a nice somewhat human normal green. “What?” Doug backed off, shaking his head. “Who are these guys?” Good question. She needed a scientific calculator, a protractor and one of those pointy things she used to draw circles with in geometry before she could figure that one out. A compass. Funny, they banned knives at school, but a stainless steel stake used to draw circles was okay. But she digressed. “Friends.” Heck, she called her mailman a friend. “Thugs more like it.” He snagged a shirt from the pile of clothes Adrianne started emptying from the closet. Pulling it on over his greased body with a grimace, he said, “What are you mixed up in, Adri? You know, the FBI was over asking me questions. Just dropped in for a visit while I was at work. How do you think that looks to my clients?” “I’m sure they were more discreet than you.” But his words caused her to pause. The FBI? So they really did think she was a terrorist? Visions of being held in a windowless room with a single light bulb sent her breaking out into goose bumps. Thank God for the Dragoon. She doubted the FBI ever had to deal with shapeshifters. She watched with perverse pleasure as Doug struggled into a pair of jeans. “What did you tell them?” “That you travel a lot, supposedly for business, teaching.” 80

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“I am a teacher,” she shouted. She saw Navarre flinch. Quince took a cautious step back, positioning himself closer to the door. She remembered the shattered car windows and took a deep breath. “What else did you tell them?” He shrugged, glancing at Navarre. “Obviously I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. I told them that while you were probably smart enough to be a terrorist, you lacked motive.” He rummaged through his growing pile of clothes. “Did you leave me any shoes?” “No.” “I guess this is it then.” He grabbed a bundle of clothing and walked to the door. “For whatever it’s worth, it didn’t have to end this way.” “You did it to yourself.” “You ask too much, Adri, you always asked for too much. I’m only human.” He passed between Navarre and Quince. “Good luck.” Adrianne stood rock still until she heard the apartment door slam. She didn’t ask too much. She had never asked for enough. Maybe if she had demanded respect from the start. Maybe if she’d listened to that niggling bit of doubt instead of letting lust get in the way of common sense. She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself cry, not in front of Navarre and Quince. She was supposed to be their Queen, their savior. She couldn’t even manage to keep a boyfriend from cheating on her. How was she supposed to live up to the Dragoon’s expectations? Suddenly drained, she sat in her desk chair, and looked around the room. What did she really have to pack? The furniture Nikki could keep, especially the bed. She tried not to wonder whether this was the first time he brought someone to her bed or not. She loved the room, the soft taupe walls with the suede finish she and Nikki painstakingly painted. The curtains were ivory lace, and matched the bed skirt and table linens. The worn hardwood floor, original to the building, bore the scars of years’ worth of previous owners. She had a story for every blemish the wood bore. It had seen her through years of yoga, of few bouts of rampant sex, and countless times she rearranged the furniture. But they were all things that had no place in her new life. Except maybe the unbridled sex part. Her books and photo albums had to come with her. They contained memories of her happy mundane childhood. Jesus, what would have happened if someone had discovered her inability to burn as a child? Would she have been locked up? Examined like the Elephant Man? Her car was still presumably at the airport, waiting for her return. Which she would never do, she realized with a start. She glanced at Navarre and read sympathy in his gaze. She looked away. “Are you able to pack what you need now? Someone can fetch the remainder of your belongings.” Navarre’s feet moved into her line of sight.

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“Sure.” She wanted to rage at him, to scream, “Are you happy now? I’m severing my ties one by one”, but she kept silent. It would do no good. And it wasn’t his fault. Her travel bags were burned along with her good business attire. Another sigh escaped her lips. Where was that happy alcoholic buzz? Nikki entered, several flattened boxes in hand, identifiable by her stylish yet sensible shoes, a rugged suede with a heel and grooved soles. “There’s a fancy blue sedan parked across the street and some very well-dressed men inside. Friends of yours?” she asked Navarre. He lifted the lace curtain and looked out. “No.” Nikki opened the boxes and set them on the floor at her feet. “Clothes first, c’mon.” She began to empty the closet, folding the clothes carefully. “Think some reporters are staking out your bar?” Adrianne asked those stylish shoes. “It’s the cops,” Nikki said, as if she’d already thought things through before bringing it to their attention. She continued to fold Adrianne’s clothes. Altarre joined them, took one look at the soiled bedding and started bundling it up. “Where would you like this placed?” “There is a laundry room off the kitchen. Thank you.” Nikki closed one box and started on the next. “I’m sorry he used your place,” Adrianne said quietly. She looked up. There was no pity in Nikki’s gaze, just sympathy and a smattering of rage. “Our place. He’s a jerk. Forget him.” Adrianne smiled weakly. “Not much of a choice there.” She stowed her photo albums in a separate box while Nikki started in on her shoes. She chose not to look at Navarre or Quince. She was their Queen. Apparently, their previous Queens’ wrath leaped way past tar and feathering and jumped right to torture and murder. She could no more be an appropriate Queen than Ghandi could be a sniper. What a disappointment she was to them. Navarre continued to stand at the window, Quince by the bedroom door. It was quite likely she’d never be truly alone again. “I can pack the rest of your books,” Nikki offered. Adrianne hesitated, set a book into her box, turned to Nikki and, without warning, burst into tears. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but it didn’t halt the soundless sobs that shook her entire body. She had cried more these last couple of days than she had in her entire life. Nikki caught her, pulling her to her shoulder while she cried. She heard Altarre’s rushed footsteps in the hallway. Poor man. Being subjected to her emotions had to be like taking a train trip through the Rockies without brakes.

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Navarre briefly touched the back of her neck. His big hand caressed the knot there. Then he bent down, picked up one of her boxes and left with it. Nikki rocked her. “It’s been a strange week, gotta admit that,” she said quietly. “But you’re not going through it alone.” When Adrianne remained quiet, she continued, “They could have been homely suckers.” Adrianne hiccupped, a laugh bubbling up. Leave it to Nikki to put a practical spin on it all. They pulled each other up. “Apparently that wasn’t waterproof mascara I loaned you. Go freshen up.” Adrianne emerged from the bathroom to find Navarre in the living room with Agent Haynes and two other men. Navarre wore a scowl. Quince looked ready to draw a weapon. “Going someplace, Ms. Harris?” Haynes asked when he saw her. “Eloping,” she replied, sliding into the lie with an ease she didn’t think was possible for her. She slipped her arm through Navarre’s. For once, she was thankful for mind speech. Police. In our world, one step down from the Hunter, she said to Navarre. Navarre’s arm dropped to her waist, tightening imperceptibly. “Didn’t I just see your boyfriend leaving?” Haynes asked in a conversational tone. One of his partners opened Nikki’s bedroom door and peeked in. “Hey, that’s my roommate’s room,” she said to him, breaking free of Navarre long enough to pull the door shut. “And you are?” “Agents Lampson and Byers with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.” Adrianne put her hands on her hips. It hid the fact she was trembling. “I don’t recall inviting you here.” “We have a warrant, Ms. Harris. And if you recall, I asked to be notified of your activity.” Haynes leaned too close to her, all trace of pleasantness gone. Quince, keep Nikki occupied, she thought. She didn’t want Nikki to be involved with them. Really too late for that brilliant brain wave. They were at Nikki’s bar, standing in Nikki’s apartment. Adrianne put on a bright smile. “Well, I’m sorry I won’t be able to visit here with you. I’ve a wedding to attend. This is my fiancé, Navarre.” Haynes did not fall for it. “We will make an itemized list of all the belongings we take. You could have cooperated with us, Ms. Harris. You forced our hand.” “Are you arresting me as well?” He coughed politely. “Not at this point.” “Well, then, if you excuse me, I have to go.” “You will not be allowed to leave the country, Ms. Harris. Your passport has been withdrawn until our review is over.” 83

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“I have no passport yet.” “You recently filed a request for one.” “To take a well-deserved trip to the Bahamas…where it’s warm! If you’ve done your homework, you’ll realize I work a lot, enough to justify a vacation once in a while.” Good healthy rage. She welcomed it. It cleared her alcohol and emotion-fuzzed mind. “Where were you the last day or so, Ms. Harris?” “Resting at my fiancé’s.” “Ah yes, Mr…?” Haynes turned to Navarre. He wants your last name, Adrianne warned. I dislike him. Then we finally agree on something. “Navarre,” he said. Haynes raised an eyebrow. “Navarre Navarre? Interesting name.” “You try my patience,” Navarre said evenly. “Believe me, your fiancée is trying mine as well. Where is your residence, Mr. Navarre?” “When will you be through here?” Navarre asked instead. “Your residence, an address?” Haynes persisted. “And where are you from?” He tipped his head. “Your accent is odd.” May I handle this? Navarre asked Adrianne. No killing. I am not Quince. She felt pressure, as if a wave washed over her and passed her by. Haynes straightened as did the other two agents, their expressions abruptly blank. She snapped her fingers in front of Haynes’ face. There was no response. “Neat trick. What did you do?” “I am removing their memory of you.” “Just like that?” She snapped her fingers again. Lords, how much power did the man possess? Nikki was right. They were catering to her. They could have simply wiped away her memory. “It is a bit more difficult than that.” The words came out slowly. He wore a look of concentration. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone.” She backed away. The sight of three blank-faced men was disturbing enough. Nikki burst out of the bedroom, Quince in tow. “I don’t know how you did it, but if you ever ask him to do that again…” She waggled her finger at Adrianne, then noticed the agents. “Who are these people and what’s wrong with them?”

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“They were just leaving. I would hazard a guess they belong to the blue sedan.” Adrianne tugged Nikki away from the agents. “Help me with my stuff.” “You aren’t going to distract me that easily. And you…” She turned on Quince, who remained impassive, like one of the great enigmatic statues on Easter Island. “I even bit him. He didn’t budge.” “I’m sure it turned you on,” Adrianne said dryly. “C’mon.” “Oh God, yes,” she gushed in a low voice when they were out of earshot of the men. “He has an incredible body. I took the liberty of checking everything out in my attempt to escape.” Adrianne laughed. “I’m sure your attempted escape was very thorough.” How was she ever going to live without Nikki? They crammed two boxes of clothes and one box of her favorite books and photo albums into the car’s trunk. Memorabilia from her parents’ house was in a storage facility, no need to claim it now, especially if they weren’t going anywhere for a while. “Now that’s a creepy sight.” Nikki straightened and closed the trunk. Haynes and the other two agents filed out of the building, their movements jerky. They climbed stiffly into their blue sedan and waited, staring straight ahead. Navarre followed them. “I need a location to send them to.” “Far, far away,” Adrianne said fervently. “If you wish.” His eyes gleamed. Form the location in your mind, so I may see it as well. She thought about all the places she’d visited before. “Wait a second.” She ran back to her room, then returned with a newspaper clipping. “Here.” The article was about a lighthouse overlooking Lake Superior. She kept it at the time, thinking she might want to vacation there. “It cannot be tied back to you?” Adrianne laughed. “No, but I’d love to see the expressions on their faces when they get there.” “It could be arranged.” She felt mesmerized by his gaze. “Um, no, that’s all right.” “As you wish.” He walked across the street and deposited the newspaper clipping in the driver’s lap. The car started and the blue sedan pulled quietly away. “They won’t kill anyone driving around that way?” Adrianne asked. “They are mindful of the road and your everyday laws.” “Like a hypnotist making a person think he’s a chicken. Wow, I’d love to learn how to do that.” “I would be honored to teach you. If it would bring a smile to your face, I will bring them back and make them cluck like chickens.” He said the last in a quiet manner, watching closely for her reaction. “Is that your mission? To keep me happy?” 85

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“Happy Dragonesses do not shatter glass.” “Ah, but angry Dragonesses do all sorts of unpredictable things.” She stood on tiptoe and, before she could lose her nerve, kissed him. “Thank you,” she whispered and escaped out of his reach before he could respond. She was rewarded with a thoroughly surprised look on his face. Her lips tingled with the taste of him. Altarre simply stared, mouth agape. “Not a peep from you,” she said, wagging her finger at him. He closed his mouth, looked at Navarre, looked back at her, then nodded. Quince remained impassive as usual. “Or you,” she said to Quince. “You are our Queen,” he replied smoothly. “I don’t want to forget this all,” Nikki blurted out. “I wouldn’t let them.” Navarre interrupted Adrianne. “You do not pose a threat to our Queen.” “Good,” Nikki said with profound relief. “Well, I have work to do. Time for you guys to shove off. Why don’t you show up some night at the bar so I know you’re still alive?” she added, a bit too casually. “It’s a promise.” Adrianne gave Nikki a quick hug. “You take care.” “I always do.” Can Quince stay with her? At least for a little while? Adrianne asked Navarre. He should have a fair chance to make a favorable impression with his Queen. He makes Nikki happy. For that, he is high on whatever list he needs to be on. But I won’t demand he stay. I would be honored to guard your companion, Quince interjected. “Mind if Quince stays with you for a little while?” she asked Nikki and shot Quince a grateful look. “To make sure those cops don’t show up again and you don’t get any visits by rabid dogs?” Nikki’s eyes widened. “Do I mind?” she asked in a whisper. “Oh Lord, I’ve been such a good girl.” “That’s a yes then?” “Yes, yes, and oh yes. Here.” Nikki tossed Adrianne the car keys. “Give Quince a crash course on driving and let him bring it back. That’ll give me some time to get ready.” “Play nice with him.” Nikki winked. “You bet.” She sashayed back into the bar, swinging her hips. Adrianne glanced at Quince. His eyes were riveted to Nikki’s backside. Men! Universally, regardless of species, they were all the same.

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Chapter Twelve Nikki leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her teeth. Quince sat in a chair on the opposite side of her desk, as stiff as one of the famous Swiss Guards. It was one thing to admire a stranger in a crowd. It was quite another to be left alone with him. And he was an alien to boot. Quite a looker, though. Dark, closely cropped hair, black as ink, framed a strong face with a bronzed complexion and eyes so shadowy they appeared almost black as well. His shoulders were broad, not like a bodybuilder’s, more so like a street fighter, not that she had an intimate knowledge of a street fighter’s build, but he reminded her of someone who studied judo or karate. Someone who was completely confident with his body and his abilities. Right now, he was busy examining one of her kinky sex etiquette books. It was upside down, she noted. So he was at a loss what to do too, huh? That was reassuring. “So.” She tapped the pen on her desk. “As my bodyguard, do you need to be walked through my building so you know the layout? How about keys? Are you going to need access to everything that’s mine?” The last sentence put her in a very sassy frame of mind. She expected him to drop the book like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Instead, he carefully closed it, replaced it exactly where it had been on her desk and focused his attention on her. “When you are ready, a close appraisal of your facilities would be wise.” She dropped the pen. Mind out of the gutter, she reminded herself. Not everyone thought in double entendres. Well, she was getting nothing done with him sitting here before her, all dark and mysterious, like some sinfully expensive piece of chocolate wrapped in gold foil. “How about now?” She rose gracefully from her chair, the need to seduce and taunt her sexuality too ingrained to be dispensed with now. She watched his eyes examine her. Pleased that she could attract the attentions of even an alien, she slipped past him, her skirt brushing his pants leg. He stood, as fluid and sinewy as a cat. Her skirt skipped a beat at that. She’d slept with male dancers before, but even they didn’t move with that kind of unconscious grace. He followed her out of the office and into the bar area. “Your clientele has extreme tastes, do they not?” She paused to face him. “If you mean are they the minority rather than the norm, that depends. I cater to all sorts. The public is more vanilla. The private parties, more 87

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often than not, walk on the wild side.” She’d be the first to admit that some people’s fetishes were way out there and not to her taste, but it wasn’t up to her to question someone else’s morals. “When are the private events held?” “Anytime. I like to keep Monday to myself though. Bar’s open Wednesday through Saturday.” “Do you trust all your personnel?” She hesitated, pursing her lips. “Yes.” Trust came in many forms. “Enough to reveal my nature?” “No.” She released her breath. He nodded his head thoughtfully. “Our Dragoness is your closest friend?” She turned away. “Sometimes she’s more a daughter to me than a friend.” She started to the front door. “Forget that. Some things I say to you should be kept between us.” “There should be no secrets between me and my Queen.” “Should and will are two different things.” She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his eye. “You intend to be completely honest with her? Every person in your group is going to bare their soul to her?” “I understand the distinction you are trying to make. I will practice discretion.” “Thank you.” She turned to the front door locks and fiddled with the electronic combination. She didn’t quite trust the electronic gadgets one hundred percent so she kept the front doors secured with standard door locks as well. The building, however, had a security system. Quince looked thoughtful. “Is it possible Doug has the combination and a key?” “You’re right. I should have the locks changed.” “Immediately.” Didn’t she just get rid of one neurotic overanalytical friend? That was cruel. She loved Adri to pieces, even if they did get on each other’s nerves from time to time. She was going to miss her. Hell, she already did. “Doug is only angry with Adrianne.” “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Her fingers hovered over the keypad. He continued to stare at her, waiting. “Are you always so macabre?” “Your safety is my concern.” “Adri’s safety is your concern. I am, hopefully, just a polite nuisance.” She leaned against the door, arms folded under her breasts. “Do you find me attractive?” He broke her gaze, looking away. “I am not familiar enough with your language to answer that.” “Bull.” That hurt, but she wouldn’t let him know it. She kept her body in excellent shape, despite her age. “Granted, I’m probably old enough to be your mother.” 88

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He didn’t quite meet her eyes. “What is your age?” “Forty-five,” she shot back, defiant. He looked amused. “I count my age in centuries, not years.” “I see.” That came out as a squeak. Silly her. Who’d have thought? So the aliens aged differently than humans. She’d have to remember to tell Adri that. It was her turn to look away. “I will change all the key codes. As for the other doors, I’ll have to get my handyman in to change the locks. Some of my employees have keys too.” Her mind wandered at that, better to let it take that track than wallow in his apparent disinterest in her. She was a big girl. She’d been turned down before. It’d been a while, though, and the guy turned out to be gay and had a boyfriend. Somehow, being turned down because one was the wrong gender didn’t hurt so much as out-and-out rejection. She headed toward the rear service doors. “Nikki.” The way he said her name made her want to rip open her blouse and throw herself at him. Of course, anything he said had her thinking naughty thoughts. She gritted her teeth. “Yes?” Her voice was polite, but disinterested. She wouldn’t let him know he hurt her. “I would be unable to conceive a child with you.” She stopped in her tracks and spun around. Quince neatly avoided her. “What?” His face was serious. “Conception between our species would not be possible.” She didn’t know whether to laugh in relief or just stand there with a shocked look on her face. She waved her hand around, encompassing the bar and the stage. “Does it look like I want kids?” “I am unsure of your motives.” Aha. So he did want her. Confidence bolstered, she sidled up to him close enough to inhale his primordial scent and he, her perfume. “My motives are purely sex-driven,” she purred. He took one step back to distance himself. “Always?” “Always.” “Are you and our Dragoness lovers?” Another blow. She rocked back on her heels. How did these guys think? “Adri had a boyfriend.” He shrugged, watching her. “No! I don’t swing that way.” “Mmm” was his response. Whether that enhanced or detracted from her appeal, she didn’t know. “I am prepared to have a sexual liaison with you,” he said finally.

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“Well, thank you very much. You flatter me.” She put her hand to her heart. He said it with about as much passion as he had when he instructed her to change the locks. “You misunderstand.” He strode up to her, picked her up by the elbows and kissed her thoroughly. His lips were rough, not unkind, but possessive in a way she never thought possible. She opened her mouth slightly, inviting in his tongue, but he was not about to be enticed. He set her down. “Let us examine the rear entry now.” Double entendre, be damned. She’d never been kissed to the point of stupidity before. Quince looked just a wee bit pleased with himself. “Umm, right this way.” She glanced over her shoulder once. His face was once again impassive, but the gleam in his eye was unmistakable. She was in way over her head.

***** Alone. The Dragoon had finally left her on her own. Granted, she was safely tucked in her own room in the belly of their ship, but right now she didn’t care. Adrianne wasn’t accustomed to having people pulling at her constantly. After another joint meal and some formal conversation with more members of the Dragoon, she had finally been allowed to escape to her room. Thank goodness. Having so many sets of eyes focused on her was unnerving. It was not unlike standing in front of a roomful of students only these men knew exactly what they wanted. She was the student and she had thirteen teachers all with their own agendas. A couple of boxes of her belongings and an empty room faced her. According to Navarre, the ship was alive, a sentient creature which could form whatever furniture she wished out of its malleable body. That alone should have been enough to freak her out. It said a lot about how far she had come that it didn’t. Right now, she wished for nothing more than a bed, but her mind was way more alert than her body. “Well then,” she said out loud, hands on her hips. She felt the ship patiently waiting for her request. Funny, when she finally had nothing to do but focus on herself, she heard and felt many little nuances in her environment she’d previously overlooked. With the television and radio always playing in the background of her former life, she missed these quiet voices. The wind, the trees, even the snow had voices, some more insistent than others, but presences nonetheless. She was probably better off not hearing them in her former life. She would have thought herself mad and the doctors would have agreed. Could Navarre have reached her mind through a drug-induced haze? Her room had no outside windows, she supposed for her own safety, but it was spacious enough not to be claustrophobic. Navarre had indicated that an opening could be made to face the inner auditorium-like space, but she wasn’t sure the Dragoon

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wouldn’t spy on her then. What a dumb thought. The room was probably filled with surveillance cameras. She glanced around. The walls, floor and ceiling were all a muted gray. “All right then, how about a chair?” A formless mass of inky gray rose from the floor beside her, and shaped itself into a boxy version of a chair, all blunt edges and no class. She wrinkled her nose. Functional, yes. Pretty, no. It probably wasn’t the ship’s fault. It had served the male members of the Dragoon for God knows how many years. “I think we can do better.” How detailed could she make her furniture? Could she communicate with the ship, mind to mind? She formed the image of an ornate throne, complete with curlicue arms and a red velvet seat. The boxy gray chair vanished to be replaced by the chair in her mind. “Much better. But I was just kidding.” The chair dissolved into a puddle of gray slime that melted into the floor. “That was really good,” she said, unsure how much the ship understood. “Thank you.” She paused. “Can we try something else?” As if in response, she felt the ship vibrate beneath her feet. A smile toyed at her lips, her eyes dreamy. She formed the image of a very unconventional bed in her mind. Why not? The Dragoon had said it was her own private space. The shape of a gray-skinned woman rose from the floor, head thrown back, arms which were no longer just arms, but dragon wings as well that curved back and up. She lost track of the time, focusing on that one woman, sheathed in nothing more than scales, a bare arm here, a finger half turned to claw there. Perfect breasts, the hint of ribs, a muscled abdomen. She longed for a body that goddess-like. She’d never sculpted before, but she now knew the same possessive pride of an artist. The woman’s head was thrown back, lips parted slightly, eyes closed. When she was finally satisfied, the sculpture stood just slightly taller than herself. “Can you make three more?” she asked, picturing the wings of each tangling to form a canopy. This was to be her bed. Three sculptures rose immediately from floor, mirror images of the first. A hint of a headboard etched itself along the wall between two of the stone women as if questioning her. “Yes,” she replied. With that, the headboard solidified, along with a mattress. The sculptured women colored, the shade of veined gray-hued marble. The walls turned a shimmery white pearlescent with a single thought. The ceiling became a panoramic view of the night sky, violet-hued, the northern lights captured in all their glory in one great sweep across her “sky”. Now her mind leaped ahead of her before she voiced conscious thought. Playful, the ship eagerly joined in. Romanesque columns twisted and were born in the corners

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of the room. A gothic style arch of brickwork framed the outer panel. Dark green vines crept up the columns. Buds formed and flowered in seconds. The nodding wine-toned roses froze in the peak of bloom. A herringboned paver path traveled from panel to bed, broke apart to circumvent the bed and trailed along to her bathroom. A wardrobe formed along one wall, a great hollowed tree trunk. Its tree branches scraped the ceiling, and vanished into the “sky”. The remainder of the floor became lush green grass, springy to the touch. She whirled around the room, laughing. The ship purred with her. She flung herself on the bed. There was a soft rap on the panel. Uh-oh. She panicked and glanced around the room. One wall started to turn gray in response to her unspoken request, but she didn’t have the heart to annihilate all her creations. The wall returned to its pearlescent state. They’d have to accept her sooner or later. They had no choice. “Come in.” The panel slid open. “Dragoness?” Altarre asked, taking one tentative step into the room. He looked around, eyes wide. “I was about to ask if you wished a tour of the ship to give you an idea of what you could create in your private sanctuary.” He touched a nodding rose close to his hand. “But we have nothing to compete with this splendor.” She rolled onto her stomach on her bed, carefully nonchalant, and observed his reaction from between two stone dragon maidens. Resting her chin in her hands, she waited for him to continue. “May I enter?” She waved a hand in acquiescence. He eyed the statues warily. “Do you dream of this?” he asked in a low voice. She couldn’t tell whether he was alarmed or awed. “Thank your brother for that. He teases me with flight. Now it haunts my thoughts.” “Like this?” Incredulous, he reached out to touch the statue, then dropped his hand as if the gesture was sacrilegious. She flushed and looked away. “Nay, my lady, no cause for shame. It is our greatest desire that you should fly.” “I would imagine so since it’s the only way your kind can reproduce,” she said dryly. It was his turn to redden. His lips pressed tight. “Does Navarre meet your needs or is there another one us you’d more willingly couple with?” She sensed his discomfort, but didn’t know how to salve it. “Sex has never been casual for me. You speak of it as a chore.” Altarre continued to look uncomfortable. She hurried on. “Look, I don’t even know if I want children.” Lord, she was only twentyeight. “I might not be an empath, but I know you’re desperate for them. Nobody’s bothered to explain anything to me or ask me how I feel about it.”

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A functional blocky chair rose out of the “grass”. Altarre sat, gaze thoughtful. “Our apologies. Ask away.” Adrianne sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, facing him. “How do you reproduce?” “Copulation and fertilization occur dragon to dragon in an aerial mating. The female dragon produces eggs two months after that. The eggs are laid in a warm cushioning spot and incubated by the mother and other dragons for another six months at which time the dragonets hatch. They remain dragonets until approximately five years of age. Of course, some learn to change sooner, others later. Queens continue to mate and reproduce as long as they are fertile.” She tried to not let her distress show. “How many eggs?” “Clutches were much larger in times past. Upwards of thirty-six were not unheard of when we were a young race.” “Thirty-six!” she squeaked. “Easy, lady, you’ll distress the others.” Altarre glanced nervously at the panel. “I am not certain how much I should be telling you. The situation, your discovery, has not been discussed between us yet. Of late, clutches have been no bigger than one or two, with three being a large clutch.” He rushed on. “And you don’t show the pregnancy in human form. I think that evolved to camouflage the pregnant, and hence more vulnerable, Dragoness. You would still feel pregnant, I am told.” “You’re told? Have you ever seen a pregnant Queen?” Her voice remained at that nervous elevated pitch. This was the Dragoon’s healer, basically her doctor now, and he was all but admitting his inexperience. Altarre’s brow furrowed. “Navarre and I were out of the last clutch.” He stood and the ugly chair from Neolithic hell vanished. “I’ve distressed you.” “Distressed me? Scared me is more like it.” She stood up and paced the length of the room, Altarre watching her warily. “Eggs? I pass eggs?” She shuddered. “Have any of you ever seen this happen?” “Our last clutch was a century ago, your time.” She reeled back, glad for the stone dragon maiden’s support. Navarre was one hundred years old? How old did that make Benito? “Many of us are reaching the end of our reproductive ability. It is for that reason we rush you.” “Right. No pressure or anything.” “Throughout our history, Dragonesses have been notoriously fickle. Partner swapping is not unacceptable.” Leaning against the wall, she put her head in her hands and took a moment to still her warring thoughts. What they took for normal ran completely against how she’d been raised. She lifted her head. “Tell me what you think.” 93

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“I do not understand.” “What would you do if you were in my position?” Again, the wary look came into his eye. “You and my brother seem to companion well.” “That’s because I know him. Like bloody reincarnation or something. I don’t understand it, but I’m beginning to accept that.” She approached him and he took a few steps out of her reach. She paused. “Do you think I could hurt you?” “I can heal others but not myself. You are in a very volatile mood. I should get Navarre.” She dropped her outstretched hand. “I didn’t ask for this,” she said softly. Of course he was afraid of her. She stopped runaway planes and cracked glass. “Are the others afraid of me?” “They are cautious.” He reached out then to touch her arm. “I would not step in Navarre’s way. I am content to let him claim you.” “I don’t want to be claimed by anyone!” “Easy, lady.” She didn’t realize she was shouting. “What do expect me to do? You ask me to leave everything I know and trust you. I’m here, aren’t I? Now I’m supposed to just calmly have sex with everyone, get pregnant and pass frickin’ eggs. Do I look like a caged bird to you?” She felt like one. The room was too still. She needed air. The panel slid open and Navarre stood in the doorway. He looked as if he had been sleeping. His hair was mussed and his shirt lay unlaced as if he’d thrown it on in a hurry. She turned to him. “Get out!” The coverlet on her bed danced, rippling in the storm of her emotions. “Come here.” He held out both hands to her, palms up. “I broke glass without even touching it, without even trying.” The words came out almost half sobbing. “What the hell am I?” She kept out of his reach. Altarre scurried to the safety of Navarre’s side. “I will leave you two alone. Good night, Dragoness.” The panel closed behind him. “I never asked for this and I don’t want it!” Navarre stepped toward her. “Stay away from me.” He caught her up in his arms. She fought him. The wardrobe teetered and collapsed into a puddle of gray goo around them before either of them could be hurt. “You are our Queen. Act like it.” She caught her breath. “Damn you.”

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There was a flush to his tanned skin. His eyes gleamed so brightly she no longer could see their pupils. She closed her eyes. He ran his hands up and down her arms, agitated. “Altarre is very sensitive. You do him harm.” She didn’t want to hurt Altarre. She truly didn’t. “I’m sorry. I…he’ll be okay, won’t he?” “Yes.” She sagged against him then, her cheek pressed to his bare chest. She could hear his heart hammering, but he kept his thoughts guarded from her. That was fine with her. She had enough to sort through herself. She heard the panel open and Benito’s voice. “All is well?” Navarre stiffened. She pressed tighter against him. She would not be pushed away again. “As well as can be expected,” he replied. “Dragoness, we will keep Altarre away since he distresses you.” “No, wait.” She pulled away from Navarre, tucking her hair behind her ears and straightening her clothes as best she could. “He spoke the truth. He was the only one who took the time to. I don’t want him punished.” Benito paused, waiting. Here was her chance to prove herself. “Do you keep your history written down?” Benito blinked. “Yes, of course.” “I think I need to learn how to read it.” She wanted to understand all their past, not just the parts they wished to share with her. “You must keep your history somewhere in the ship?” “Yes. Vespero can teach you to read.” Benito seemed surprised by the request. She hesitated, glancing at Navarre. “And fly. I need to learn how to fly.” “Navarre has already been chosen to handle that. He has enough tenacity to prevent himself from being killed by your emerging gift’s flare-ups.” “You were thinking tantrums,” she said distractedly. It was time to trust those who had sworn to protect her. She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “I should have someone teach me self-defense as well.” “You are safe here,” Navarre protested. “I will protect you.” “And if I should become separated from you?” “I will not let that happen,” Navarre said, his face drawn tight. She lacked the strength to argue with him. “Quince is the best,” Benito said thoughtfully. “We should have discussed your future sooner. I apologize. I was unaware of how you would react.” She waved off his suggestion. “Who else is capable besides Quince?”

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“We are all capable,” Navarre cut in. He stood with his arms folded, legs spread slightly apart as if in a fighting stance. “Quince’s days of fertility are few.” “Can’t you freeze it?” she asked, exasperated. “Save it to be artificially inseminated in some future Queen?” Benito shook his head. “We have tried.” “I can’t help him.” “You choose not to.” “I will not be tossed from man to man like a pampered toy. Nikki—” “She is of little importance in the grand scheme.” She gritted her teeth. “You idiots.” She wanted to stamp her feet, say she hated them all and storm off. If they were used to Queens killing cheating boyfriends, a tantrum should seem tame. Benito sighed. “Henley then. Keep in mind, Dragoness, there are many who seek your attentions and who would be happy to step in the moment your Chosen falls from favor.” She raked her hand through her hair. “No, it’s Navarre.” She searched Navarre’s face, quietly certain she had seen it a thousand times before, in a previous lifetime or perhaps only in her dreams. It was a face she could trust, a mind that lay open to her if she willed it. “It will always be Navarre.” Navarre’s gaze was unreadable. She glanced away. “I suspected as much,” Benito murmured. “Always is a long time, Dragoness. And Navarre but a stranger to you.” “Yes, I know.” She glanced at her watch, shocked at the time. How long had she remained enthralled in her sculpting? It was nearly three a.m. Benito took note. “It is late. You should get your rest. We will take our leave of you.” “But, Navarre—” she protested. “All is calm,” Benito interrupted. “Navarre can be of little assistance to you now.” He was wrong about that. She needed Navarre’s strong arms around her. She wanted to press her cheek to his chest again and hear him murmur soothing words to her. But she wasn’t a child. She was their Queen and they expected more from her. Too much, part of her cried out. She kept herself rigid. “I am sorry I woke you,” she said to Navarre. She forced herself to meet his eyes. His words were formal but his gaze was possessive, maybe even a trifle triumphant. Hadn’t she claimed him as her lover? “I will always come if you call.” Taking her hand, he turned it over and pressed his lips to her palm. “Sleep well, my Queen.” They left her.

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Her hand tingled where he had touched it. She laid her palm against her fluttering heart and closed her eyes. He would come if she called. He had promised so. She pressed her lips tight. She’d caused enough trouble for one night. Tonight, she’d sleep alone.

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Chapter Thirteen Nikki was grossly unaccustomed to living with a man. Especially with a man as gorgeous and unassuming as Quince. When she stumbled out of the bedroom at noon after catering a party that ran until four in the morning she was totally unprepared to find Quince sprawled out on her plush white carpeted living room floor. The smell of sugar wafted through the apartment. She opened the oven. Something that looked suspiciously like pancakes were stacked on a plate on the middle rack. She glanced at her countertops. Spotless. She peeked in her sink. Empty as well. “Your breakfast will grow cold if you continue to leave the oven open,” Quince said. She dropped her hand. The oven door slammed shut. Quince had propped himself up on his elbows and was watching her, dark eyes unreadable. It was too early in the morning for her to make brilliant conversation. A half a pot of coffee waited for her on the counter. She carefully took a mug out of the cupboard, poured herself a cup of coffee and drank it down black. “You are not as lively in the morning.” Quince seated himself on a stool beside the counter. His hair was damp and he smelled like her soap, peppermint mixed with that natural primeval scent nothing seemed to mask. Her fingers itched to run through his hair and see if it was really as silky as it looked. She carefully set down her mug. “You did this?” A smile briefly touched his lips. He glanced around the apartment as if to say, “Who else?” “Smart ass.” She opened the oven again. “Smells wonderful. I didn’t know you could cook,” she added inanely. “Thank you.” She reached for the plate. He caught her wrist so quickly she missed him getting off his stool. “It is hot. Sit.” He offered her his place, then fished out the plateful of food, oven mitt in hand. She sat, bemused. Placing the plate on a trivet, he handed her a fork. “In your current state, I hesitate to give you a knife.” “Very funny.” She hacked at the pancake-like stack, then shoveled an unladylike biteful into her mouth. “Mmm, what’s in this?” He gave her a napkin. “You do have cooking ingredients in your pantry.”

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“They’re Adri’s.” She, herself, never had the time or the urge to cook. The patties sort of tasted like pancakes, but they had a crusty exterior like waffles, and tasted sweet enough that they didn’t require syrup. “Will tonight be as late as well?” he asked. “Bar closes at two.” “Your group last evening was entertaining.” She wondered what he thought about last night’s private party. A group of sixtysomething-year-olds with a foot fetish, it was not the first time she’d catered a party for them. She spent the evening making pots of coffee and mixing drinks only to watch the drinks be drizzled over someone’s big ugly foot, and licked off. Okay, that was unfair. Not all the feet were ugly. The boot with the red leather spiked six-inch heel was chic. She’d even inquired where she could get a pair like that. Quince had remained discreetly in a corner of the room. Dressed in black, he passed as a bouncer. No one questioned his presence and she took that as a good sign. Although she could have removed any one of the partygoers herself had any crossed the line. The old men were the ones to watch and she’d learned early on in her career to watch her ass, quite literally. She could evade a probing hand while carrying a tray-load of drinks on spiked heels better than a diver dodging sharks. “What do you think of my job?” she asked around a mouthful of food. Now that she had a little bit of food in her stomach, she took a moment to savor another cup of coffee. He had added something to that as well. “Does it please you?” “Obviously or I wouldn’t still be in business.” “Then my opinion is of little concern.” He stood and padded back on bare feet to tidy up the living room. Heart be still. If she got a chance to see a body like Quince’s every morning, she just might think about becoming a morning person. Nah. She rose, cradling her cup of coffee. “I told you that you could use Adri’s bedroom.” “The floor suits me.” He picked a decorator pillow off the floor and set it back on the couch. “There’s my room as well.” A broad hint and a scary one at that. She shared her bed with no one. How’d Quince manage to circumvent that rule without ever knowing it even existed? Quince turned to her. “Do you not wish to become acquainted first?” She shrugged. “Sex without strings suits me fine.” “It is not our nature to give so lightly.” “That will suit Adri just fine then.” He made no response.

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She followed him into the living room and perched on the arm of the couch, her bathrobe hiked high to reveal a lean expanse of leg. Quince was discreet, but she caught his peek. “Okay then, tell me about yourself. What would make you feel more comfortable with me?” She watched him over the brim of her cup as she sipped. “Mmm and what’s in this?” “Cinnamon.” He sat on the now-tidied couch, just out of her reach, and crossed his legs. “You have had many lovers.” “Yes,” she said slowly, not knowing where he intended to go with that. “I have not.” “Oh.” A little thrill ran through her. She loved experienced men, but there was also something special about teaching an innocent lover. Although Quince’s kiss had been far from chaste. “Why have you not chosen a mate?” That startled her. She set the coffee cup on an end table. “I like men,” she said simply. “A couple at ease with one another is more apt to explore.” She shook her head. “Oh baby, that’s not true.” “It is,” he insisted. She slid off the couch’s arm and onto his lap. “I bet I could show you a thing or two.” Quince kept his hands off her, one arm resting against the headrest, the other propping him up against the couch’s arm. “And I could bring you to orgasm without laying a hand on you.” Nikki batted her eyelashes, then gave up when Quince appeared unaffected. He really meant what he said. How intriguing. “Okay, you win. So, do you want to date?” She cringed at the word. “You will share your bed with no other if you choose to share it with me.” “Yikes, exclusivity.” She put her hand to her heart. “That’s asking a lot. Can’t Adri sleep with whomever she chooses?” “She is our Queen.” Nikki stood, tucking her robe around her. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that queen part and everything,” she said dryly. Quince caught her wrist and pulled her back onto his lap. His arm settled around her back. The other kept her wrist prisoner. “She has many responsibilities.” “Promiscuity being one of them. Good luck with that. Adri’s not very adventurous.” She twisted in his grasp. “Let me go. You’re hurting me.” His eyes gleamed, a violet fire in their depths. “I am not.” “I’ll scream.” 100

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“You wish to make a scene. Go ahead.” She opened her mouth to do just that and he took her. His tongue tangled with hers. She couldn’t catch her breath. She felt herself go cold with a slick shiver of fear, then abruptly hot as she felt herself grow damp. His hand dropped her wrist to cup her cheek. She felt a pulling deep inside. What the hell was he doing to her? She arched toward him, begging for him to touch her now-aching breasts. The need inside her grew. Oh lord. Her breath hitched. He released her lips as she felt herself plummet over the edge, her body twitching. His breath was low and tickled her ear. “Choose, my lady.” “Touch me,” she pleaded. “Choose,” he repeated. She broke every rule she ever set for herself. “Yes, damn it, yes. There won’t be anyone else. I swear it.” He tweaked her nipple and she felt herself starting to bubble over again. “You are correct. There will never be another.” Then the blood swarmed through her ears, her eyes widened, unseeing, and she no longer cared whether she’d ever be able to hear or see or taste again.

***** His Queen had chosen him. Navarre wanted to announce it wherever he went, but he didn’t. Instead, he kept his face composed, his step steady and even. Benito would remain silent on the subject. Other members of the Dragoon would not be as pleased. He knew so little about her and yet, he thought he knew all there was to know. Last night when she reined in her emotions, he wanted so badly to praise her, yet by the flash of fire in her eyes, he knew she wouldn’t appreciate it. It wasn’t easy to tuck an uncontrolled tsunami of emotion-fed psi back into one’s head. In his younger years, he’d failed miserably at it. Altarre would attest to that. What twist of imagination prompted her to create that bed? Did she think of him when she lay in her erotic bed alone last night? He had slept badly. He wanted to touch her mind, to soothe her inner demons until she relaxed and fell asleep in his arms. His hands itched to rove all over her body, to reacquaint themselves with someone they lost in another lifetime. Soon. Very soon, he promised himself. He knocked on her panel. There was no response. He was certain she was awake. Tuned to her needs, he knew she was hungry. The panel opened. “Hey!” Adrianne shouted.

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It was too late. Navarre halted mid-stride, arms laden with a breakfast tray. Adrianne was framed in the dressing room doorway, nude, as still as one of her statues. Her hair was slicked back, wet with her bath, the curves of her body shedding droplets of water. His reaction to her was instantaneous. Her body was sinewy, soft creamy breasts, a narrow waist, round hips and muscled calves. The smooth skin was marred with the hints of deep bruises. One slashed across her chest, between her breasts, and ended at her hips, like a sash. A few spotted her hips, the remains of her plane crash injuries. He wanted to kiss away those bruises, to run his tongue and lips up the lines of her curves… He forced himself to focus and lowered the serving tray to conceal his desire. She couldn’t be allowed to see what kind of control she had over him. She snatched a towel and draped it around her body. “What do you think you’re doing?” “Bringing you a meal.” Rage warred with embarrassment on her face. “I knocked,” he protested. “I did not answer.” He inclined his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “It is not our custom to wait for permission to enter.” “Altarre adopted it. You had better too,” she warned. She grabbed another towel and bent forward to wrap it in her hair. He caught another glimpse of the rounded swell of her breasts. Desire flared. He wrestled to control his urge to seize her, to possess her lips, and take her body. Cradled beneath him, he could make her understand how much she meant to them all, but most of all, to himself. Words paled beside this ache. This was Adrianne—Erifydal, had she been raised by her birth parents. Both halves of the woman needed to be made whole before he would let himself take her. To do that, she needed to fly. She padded toward him and lifted the food cover. “Smells good. I’m starved.” The curved tops of her breasts were in reach, the towel tucked primly between them. One tug and she’d be free of that encumbrance. His fingers itched. Thank the First Queen the tray required both his hands. “Adonthe cooked it especially for you.” She dropped the lid she held. “Thank you.” She paused. “I’m not accustomed to being catered to. Please make sure to thank him.” She looked at him, eyes as dark as the watery depths a man might drown in. “I will be certain to tell him. He will be delighted.” Taking the tray from him, she deposited it on the bed and sat beside it. Freed from her mind-numbing close proximity, he looked around the room. Last night had not been the time for close examination of her bedroom. He had stormed into her room expecting to find his brother literally in pieces. Today she appeared calm. 102

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Mother of the First Queen, what were they going to do with the likes of her? He touched the statue beside the bed. The half-changed dragonesses looked like they were in the midst of orgasm. Was that how she perceived shapeshifting to be? Orgasmic? It was so much more, such an integral part of their being that he could not imagine being denied it as long as she had. “You will remain with me this morning,” he said. “Vespero is not feeling well. You will spend the early afternoon with Benito learning to read as you requested. Late afternoon you shall start your self-defense training with Henley. The evening hours are your own. I believe Henley has figured out how to pull in your television signals if you long for human entertainment.” He expected her to argue with him. She answered simply, “Okay.” He was thrown off guard by her acquiescence. What did the minx have in mind? Or was she thinking of something else entirely? He glanced at the stone maidens, mouths open and eyes closed. Adrianne smiled, as if reading his thoughts, and took a bite of warm buttered toast. Her psi talents were growing daily. He didn’t doubt she could read his thoughts and keep him unaware that she was. He had a hard time keeping his eyes focused on her face, another thing she seemed acutely aware of. Did she think this little more than a game? His subtle gaze roved to the expanse of leg her towel revealed. She shifted, hitching it a little higher. She did play the seductress. He stiffened. “Dress warmly. We will fly today,” he said, abruptly, and left the room. Her laughter followed him.

***** Describing how to fly was like teaching a blind man how to paint a tree. The blind painter could touch, feel its texture and shape, and even be handed the correct colors, but the actual version of it would always truly elude him. So it was with trying to teach Adrianne how to shapeshift and fly. Dragonets were born with an innate knowledge. Day after day she tried to please Navarre, but failed. After yet another heart-wrenching flight, Adrianne sat in alone in the great central chamber of the ship, one cavern away from the great beast’s heart. The ship’s steady pulse was lulling. The ship itself made no demands on her. Oh, yes, it wanted to be played with. She created something new almost every day with it. Yesterday’s dragonrunning-into-a-wall sculpture, complete with “cracks” in the wall’s smooth surface, was noticeably absent from the dining chamber’s panel today, but the ornate chairs she’d designed remained. Her humor seemed to constantly put the Dragoon on guard. She heard footsteps way in advance of Navarre’s approach, just a friendly warning compliments of the ship.

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Navarre seated himself beside her. She kept her eyes closed, head tipped back, knees drawn to her chest and arms wrapped around her legs. “Would I disturb you if I joined you?” She didn’t bother to move. The throb of the ship’s heartbeat flowed through her body solemnly. “I disappoint you all.” She could sense it in them every night when she shared their evening meal. “Your dedication is admirable,” he said awkwardly. “Oh, stuff your admiration,” she muttered. “As you wish.” “And your blasted tolerance.” He remained silent. She switched subjects. “Does the ship speak to you?” “After a fashion.” “It shows me the places it’s been.” She sensed his surprise. “Ask it how it was born,” he asked. The heartbeat in the room faltered for only a second, then resumed. “It won’t say.” “Do you dream of dragons, Adrianne?” His voice held such a wistful note, she opened her eyes and gazed at him. His eyes were centered on her breasts. “You saw my room.” She didn’t mean to sound so harsh. “You will kill me with that flying.” “The skill is within you.” “Part of me dies each day I am here and I fail you.” “Do you see yourself changing?” he persisted. Must he push her every second of the day? “Yes, damn it, yes.” She stood and flung herself away from him again. Turning, she pressed her forehead against the