Captive Hearts

Captive Hearts Lissa Michaels Hard Shell Word Factory To my family, for putting up with me even though I'm 'always on the darned computer'. And to Karen (my soul-twin), Jeannie and Val, my crit group. I couldn't have done this without you. Thanks guys! Copyright 1999, Lissa Ramaglia ISBN: 1-58200-143-X

Chapter 1 The trading world Tellari Morgan Fontinara glanced at his chronometer and bit back a sigh of frustration. Two blasted hours! How long was it supposed to take to convince thirty people that he could do what they wanted him to do? His rebellion plans were sound. If they’d only stop arguing with each other, and stop questioning his abilities, they'd see that. And, as if this situation weren't bad enough, his brother Galen still had not arrived. He should have been here hours ago. "You are sure this will work?" Aware of how quiet the windowless storeroom had become, Morgan glanced briefly at the closed door then turned his head to answer the thin, green-skinned Theledonian woman. "It'll work as long as we're able to keep the element of surprise. That's why I've kept my plans vague. You can't tell the Jotnar what you don't know." An angry hiss drew his attention to the Sumarian representative glaring at him through narrowed reptilian eyes. "You s-sound as-s as though you believe we would willingly betray you. Perhaps-s you have already been betrayed." "I'd be foolish not to consider that possibility, but I'm willing to take the risk." Not because most of the Bellarissian cargo ships the Jotnar destroyed were his, but because he took the loss of each crewmember personally, and their numbers were growing far too large. His people

suffered only a fraction of what the rest of the galaxy suffered under Jotnar rule. They had to be stopped. "He's here, isn't he?" a new voice said from the door. Seeing the innkeeper lounged against the wall by the door, Morgan's stomach flip-flopped. He hadn't been there a moment ago. That meant trouble, or that he'd had some word on Galen. "Prince Morgan could have sent a representative from Bellariss, like your own worlds did, but he risked his own skin to prove that he's sincere in helping us overthrow the Jotnar." A murmur of agreement traveled through the room as Morgan tensely awaited whatever news the innkeeper had to deliver. Thank the gods it was a short wait. "That transmission you were expecting just came in." Morgan excused himself and followed the innkeeper into the tavern. Business was pretty slow this early in the day. A few patrons of various species were scattered around the large taproom. The counters gleamed and the floor had been swept clean of the debris from the previous night's business. His boots shuffled and scratched over the floor's fresh coating of sand as he trailed behind the innkeeper. The closer he got to the innkeeper's office, the more anxious he became. What was that blasted kid up to? He paused long enough to nod a greeting to the furry, little white Trill that chattered in his direction then stepped through the door the innkeeper held open for him. "Take as long as you need. I'll see that you're not disturbed." Morgan nodded his thanks. Then, after the door had closed, he walked over to the desk and flipped on the viewscreen. His brother's smiling face appeared. "Where in the three phases of hell have you been?" Galen sputtered, his face flushing. "We delivered all the missives, then picked up the trade goods we'd ordered. Morg, it was great! The broker got everything we requested. I managed to get two cases of Folian brandy for you and a water crib for Sabina and Boyan's baby, and--" "Galen!" He flinched. "We were so close to Pleasara, and Hastin said we had time to--"

"Hastin!" Morgan swore. "I should have known. Here I've been worried sick you were taken by the Jotnar, and you were rolling around in some whore's bed." "Morgan--" "I didn't send you out on a pleasure cruise, blast it. Don't you know how dangerous it is for us? You get in, do your business, and get out. There's no time for anything else." "I know, but--" Morgan turned his back on his brother, effectively cutting off Galen's excuses. "I shouldn't have let you go." "Oh, come on, Morgan. Nothing happened." Morgan whirled back to the screen. "Not another word!" He dragged his fingers through his long blond hair and forced himself to take a deep breath. The kid was just too young and irresponsible to send out on a mission like this. He should have followed his instincts and not bowed to Galen's pleadings. "Where are you right now?" "We just entered Tellarin space. We should be touching down in half an hour." "Good." Morgan rested his knuckles against the desk and leaned in toward the viewscreen. "Then you, Hastin, and I are going to have a long talk." Galen paled, but didn't protest. Then the ship lurched violently, knocking him from his feet. "Galen!" "Morgan?" Galen's panicked face stared back at him, his voice barely audible over the loud wail of the warning sirens. A loud explosion lurched the ship again. "Stars," Galen whispered, his face stricken with horror. "We're being boarded." "Galen, get out of there. Transport out, now!" Morgan gripped the desk, willing his brother to do as he said. The door behind Galen blew in. Morgan swore, feeling useless as he watched his dazed brother turn toward the armed Jotnar soldiers that swarmed into the room killing anyone that moved with blasts of laser-fire. "Galen, transport out!" Galen slowly raised his hands. A Jotnar pointed his laser rifle at him.

"Gods, no," Morgan whispered. The soldier fired and the screen went static. "No!" Morgan swore, his fingers flying across the controls as he tried to get the signal back. He tried three times and all three came back with the same results--the signal was gone. He slammed his fist on the desk, clenching his eyes tightly shut against the burning of tears, and sank onto the desk chair. "Gods, Galen," he whispered, resting his forehead against his fisted hands. "I shouldn't have let you go." "Prince Morgan? You all right?" Morgan took a deep breath and looked up, seeing the innkeeper standing in the doorway. He nodded, wiping away the wetness from his cheek with his hand. The innkeeper cleared his throat, aiming his gaze over Morgan's shoulder. "Your brother-in-law is getting anxious over your being gone for so long." Morgan nodded, standing up. "I've got to get back to the meeting." When he got to the door, the innkeeper gently grasped his shoulder. "Bad news?" Morgan's throat tightened so badly he could hardly swallow. All he could do was nod. "I'm sorry." The innkeeper gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze, then left Morgan to find his own way back to the meeting. He walked through the taproom in a daze, barely acknowledging the greetings he heard. As he neared the storeroom where their meeting was being held, he heard a multitude of angry voices raised in argument. Determined to put an end to the petty bickering, he gritted his teeth and stormed into the room. They were so busy shouting into each other's faces, they didn't even notice his furious entrance. "That is enough!" The sudden silence was deafening as thirty-four pairs of eyes turned to him. "You people came to me for help. I'm here, offering that help, and all you can do is bicker." He dragged shaking fingers through his hair. "You want to rebel against the Jotnar? Fine, I'll help you, but you're going to do it my way or it won't be done at all. Is that clear?"

"Yes-s, Your Highness-s," the Sumarian replied with a humble bow, amusement sparkling in his eyes. Morgan ground his teeth, refusing to look away from that reptilian smile, from the challenge, even as the others humbly agreed to follow his plans. "Something has happened," the Theledonian woman whispered, drawing Morgan's gaze. She stared at him with her knowing, half-lidded gaze. Boyan, Morgan's brother-in-law came to stand beside him. "Morgan, what is it?" Morgan closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. He didn't want to do this now. Anger was so much easier to deal with than grief. "We lost another ship." "Gods," Boyan whispered. "Galen?" Morgan nodded and turned away, unable to say more. When a gentle hand touched the middle of his back, he stiffened. "May the gods ease your pain," the Theledonian woman whispered, and Morgan felt some of the pain in his heart ease, if only temporarily. "Thank you," Morgan whispered, unable to meet her gaze. The mention of more senseless deaths at the hands of the Jotnar subdued the atmosphere of the meeting. One brave soul, a Novan, stood and cleared his throat. The sound, much like a feline clearing a fur-ball from its airway, caught everyone's attention. "Your Highness, if something should happen to you--" "The invasions will go on as planned whether I'm alive or dead." Morgan glanced at Boyan and received his affirmative nod. "Your people will see freedom. You have my word on it." His answer seemed to please the room's occupants, setting some of their worries at ease. The meeting soon broke up, with promises to follow Morgan's plan and to be prepared to defend their worlds when the invasions began. When the last representative had gone, Morgan turned and headed out into the tavern. "Morgan?" "I need a drink." Boyan nodded and followed him up to the bar. Without being asked, the innkeeper poured two shots then quietly moved down to other patrons.

Morgan stared into the thick, blue liquid, not knowing what kind of whiskey it was, but hoping it would burn like hell going down. "Are you sure?" Boyan met his gaze through the large mirror behind the bar. "I saw it happen." "Gods." "Galen, Hastin, all of them are gone." Morgan swore, and downed the shot. It burned a fiery path down his throat into his belly. He coughed, shaking his head to clear it, then tapped his finger on the bar, ordering another. He swallowed that one just as quickly then pushed the empty glass away. "How am I going to tell my father that he just lost his son and his best friend?" Not that Hastin was much of a loss. Morgan still believed that Hastin was responsible for Drake's banishment, that he could have done something to keep his son from being punished for a crime he didn't commit. He wondered how Drake would feel about his father's death? Drake had spent his whole life trying to earn his father's love, and had always come up short. He rubbed his hands over his face then sighed, letting them drop, and stared into the mirror. A familiar face stared back at him. "Drake!" "Where?" Boyan turned to look. Morgan swiveled on his barstool, but saw no sign of him. "Blast it, where'd he go?" For the first time in six years, he'd caught sight of his best friend, and he'd just vanished. "Are you sure you--" Boyan stopped, gripping Morgan's arm. "We've got trouble." Jotnar soldiers swarmed into the bar and were heading right for them. "Out the back," the innkeeper whispered. "Hurry!" Morgan and Boyan hopped the bar and ran for the door leading to the private hangar where their ship was hidden. "You want to try and fly out?" Boyan asked, huffing for breath as he ran along side him. Morgan shook his head. "No time." He could hear the soldiers' shouts and thumping boots getting closer. "Back here!" He dodged behind a crate. "Let's get the hell out of here." Yanking back their sleeves, they exposed their jewel encrusted wrist cuffs. On the colored jewels, they tapped in the transport sequence that would send them home. "Ready," Boyan said. "Go. I'm right

behind you." Boyan shimmered and began to fade, as Morgan went to press the final jewel on his cuff. A tearing pain ripped through his abdomen. He gasped, doubling over. "Gods, not now Sabina!" He swore at his twin, damning her for expecting him to share every nuance of her pregnancy at the worst possible times. "Morgan!" Boyan's voice was far away, too far to be of any help to him. Then, he was gone. Gasping for breath, he forced himself to straighten and reached again for his cuff. "No you don't!" Morgan flinched, then found himself facing the barrels of several laser pistols. The Jotnar squadron had caught up to him. "Grab that thing off his wrist. Don't let him touch it," the commander ordered. When one of the barrels pressed into his cheek, it's quiet hum warning him it was ready to fire, Morgan stilled his struggle to keep the cuff. How did they know? To the untrained eye, his cuff was just an expensive piece of jewelry--a gold bangle encrusted with purple gems. The commander's next words confirmed his growing fear. "It's a pleasure to find you still here, Your Highness. We were afraid we'd missed you." Betrayed! Morgan gritted his teeth and struggled as they yanked his arms behind him and shackled his wrists. It had to have been a Bellarissian. No one else knew of their transporter capabilities. "How does this thing work?" The soldier turned the cuff over in his hands. "Press the large stone twice, then the small stone on the bottom three times." "No!" the commander shouted, but it was too late. The gullible soldier had already keyed in the sequence, and the cuff immediately grew red hot. The soldier yelped and dropped it. In seconds, it melted into a molten puddle of gold. Nothing remained, not even the stones. "That was a mistake!" the commander growled. Then he raised the butt of his pistol and struck Morgan in the temple. A blinding pain exploded through his head, then everything faded to black. ~*~ On the Alliance planet Cantara, Ariana Zoltan paced in front of her wide office window. The panoramic view, with it's towering black mountains and the soft yellow clouds floating in the lavender sky, brought her little enjoyment this morning. In fact, it only served to remind her that

if her plan didn't work, this might be her last day in this office. "It has to work," she whispered, looking down at the delicate bracelet that wound around her wrist, then tapered across the back of her hand in an intricate webbing of tiny gold links and crystals, and attached to a small ring on her middle finger. The large crystal, set in the center of the webbing, grew warm against the back of her hand. A rainbow shimmered to the surface of the crystal and burst into a riot of color. Ariana smiled. It was trying to encourage her. She wished she were that confident about her situation. For all she knew, they may have already decided to replace her. Grader had been in with the review board for an hour already, no doubt poisoning them against her. She'd always known that he resented her being installed as administrator over him, but she'd never expected him to go behind her back and report every little problem. If only she'd caught on sooner, she might have had more time to prepare. The door to her office whooshed open. Her aide Shalanna strode in, data pad in hand. "Is everything ready?" Ariana moved to her desk and clenched her shaking fingers tightly into the back of her chair. "The review board has chosen ten slaves from the yard, as you requested, and are awaiting you in the conference room." "Thank you, Sheena," Ariana whispered, sending the goddess of all a quick prayer. They were going to give her the chance to defend herself against Grader's accusations. No doubt he expected them to simply come and remove her from power on his word alone. "This is it, little rainbow. Time to show them what we can do." Giving her white Command uniform jacket a firm tug, and her neatly pressed, black trousers a once over, she knew that they'd find no fault with her appearance. Her uniform was flawless. If only her confidence was in as good a shape. Looking calmer then she felt, Ariana strode out of her office and down the hall. As she neared the conference room, she could hear Grader's voice raised in protest. "What purpose will this serve? The woman is incompetent. Replace her and be done with it." Wanting to test her crystal and see how Grader felt the meeting was

going, she concentrated on him from the open doorway. His anger and frustration rolled over her in crashing waves. Flinching briefly, she entered the room. "To what end, Commander?" Ariana nodded a greeting to the review board then turned to Grader. "So things can go back the way they were? Since I've taken over, slave deaths have been reduced by ninety-five percent." "Slave escapes have gone up." He strode up to her. "You're too soft on them. They have no respect for our authority and no fear of reprisals when they disobey." Standing at her height, Grader glared into her eyes, nearly nose to nose with her. His pale Jotnar skin reddened in anger until his face nearly matched the shade of his hair. "Commander, you've had your say," Captain Jojev, head of the Jotnar Base Efficiency Review Board, interrupted. "Take your seat." He nodded toward a vacant chair at the end of their table. After a lot of posturing and dramatics, Grader sat in the indicated chair and glared at her. Captain Jojev smiled at her. "Now, Administrator, why don't you tell us why you had us choose these slaves from the yard." He gestured to the small group of men standing in the corner under heavy guard. Ariana's heart pounded in her chest. This is it. Praying this would work the way she wanted it to, she sent a silent entreaty up to the goddess. "As Commander Grader stated," she made eye contact with each of the board members, "the number of runners has increased. We're working to discover how they're escaping the compound, but if my system works, we may be able to stop escapes before they are attempted." Grader snorted. "What system?" Ariana ignored Grader, keeping her gaze roaming over the three board members. "During my training, I spent some time with the psychics on Theledon. While there, it was discovered that I had a latent empathic ability." "I do remember reading that in your file," Captain Jojev said. Ariana concentrated on him, but didn't sense the disgust she'd expected to him to feel. Encouraged, she continued her explanation. "With the help of the rainbow entity that lives within this crystal," she held out her bracelet-adorned hand, "I'll be able to sense strong emotions and determine where they might lead." "Oh, please." Grader stood. "Captain, do we really have to listen to this

nonsense? This is just an obvious attempt to save her position." "Who said her position is at risk?" "I sense your desperation, Commander, and your disbelief. Captain, I sense your curiosity, and your amusement." Ariana smiled, glancing briefly at Grader. "The other board members aren't quite sure yet what they feel about my announcement." "You've proved a point, Administrator. I take it these slaves were chosen for some sort of demonstration?" "You are correct, Captain." Ariana motioned the guards to bring the slaves forward. A few of them looked familiar, but that only meant that they'd been on the base for a while. She spent little time in the yard and didn't own a slave, so there was little chance she'd ever know any of them personally. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the group, letting their emotions surround her as she slowly moved down the line. Fear, anger, hopelessness--all normal emotions for slaves. The crystal wasn't telling her anything. She paused and clenched her fingers into fists. This isn't working! They're going to think she's a fool. There were still two slaves left in the line. It had to work. Taking a deep breath, she started moving, concentrating. When she got to the last man, the crystal vibrated against the back of her hand just as she sensed his determination and smug satisfaction. She opened her eyes and focused her gaze on the crystal. It flickered between purple and black. Pulsing once, the rainbow entity retreated, leaving the stone as colorless as water. She met the mocking silver stare of the tall dark-haired slave before her. "This one is ready to take action, and is willing to use violence to achieve it." The slave paled, his mouth dropping open in shock, and Ariana thought for a moment that he looked vaguely familiar to her. She shook her head, realizing that she'd probably seen him on the base before. It's not like she actually knew the man. Feeling that she had the matter settled, Ariana dropped her hand and stepped back. "Take him to interrogation," Jojev ordered. "Captain, please," Grader protested. "You don't honestly believe this nonsense?" "Commander, you will have this slave taken to interrogation. If he's found a way to escape, I want to know what it is." Jojev's expression left

no room for further debate. "Yes, sir." Grader waived the guards forward. As she watched the slave's retreating back, she realized that she'd just gained an enemy, and the knowledge didn't sit well with her. His hatred struck her like a blow, filling her with guilt and betrayal. Goddess above, why did she feel like she betrayed him? Because you know this is wrong. Slavery is wrong, her conscience said. And here she was in charge of a base full of slaves, on a world that embraced slavery in every capacity--her world. "Very impressive, Administrator." Captain Jojev came forward to take her hand. "Tell me more about this system of yours." His affinity is false. My job is at risk. The crystal throbbed against her hand, validating the feeling. Ariana swallowed nervously, hoping she looked calm and confident. "Right now, it's pretty limited. The rainbow entity has not yet become attuned to me, so the spectrum of emotional colors is limited." "And when it is attuned to you?" "I should be able to judge upon arrival which slaves are likely to give us trouble and assign them accordingly." She carefully withdrew her hand from his and the tension in her eased a little. "Two months," the captain said. "You have two months to perfect your system, or Commander Grader will assume command." "But Captain--" "That is our decision." He tugged the hem of his uniform coat with a gesture of finality. "Yes, sir." As they filed past her and out of the room, she couldn't miss Grader's smug smile, nor the air of triumph that practically radiated from his being. "It's not over yet," she mumbled, glaring at his back. She just hoped two months would be enough time. If Grader regained control, the torture and killing would begin again, and she just couldn't bear to watch that. No, it would work. She had just proved that it could. She'd just have to find a way to deal with her guilt. "I'm doing it to help them," she whispered, looking into the crystal. The rainbow flared weakly.

Chapter 2 Beep. Beep. Beep. Commander Pavel Grader stiffened, his hands gripping the hips of the writhing slave on his lap. "Ignore it," Vita whispered, then licked a wet track across his jaw. Insolent bitch! Swiveling his desk chair with a trouser-tangled foot, Grader gave her a vicious slap and shoved her off him. She landed hard on the floor, crying out in pain. He stood over her, glaring, while he fastened his trousers. "Never give me orders, slave." She cowered below him, and he noticed with pleasure the bright pink handprint gracing her smooth cheek. Her pale skin bruised so nicely. The sight of the purple bite on her breast, bared by her gaping tunic, sent a fresh surge of blood into his fading erection. Beep. Beep. Beep. With an annoyed hiss, Grader jabbed his finger at the com on his desk. "What is it?" "Communication from Jotnar Prime, Commander." Jotnar Prime! Grader grabbed Vita's arm, ignoring her flinch, and propelled her half-dressed to the door. "You've been insolent, Vita. You know what that means, don't you?" Her tremor of fear sent a rush of pleasure running through him. "You will await your punishment in my dwelling. And Vita," he shoved her out into the corridor, "be naked." He strode back to his desk and flipped on the vid screen. The image of Commodore Barkin, his mentor, instantly appeared. Dressed in the royal-blue uniform of the Prime, the Jotnar Elite, the commodore was the embodiment of what Grader intended to be--powerful. He wanted the power of the Prime and the respect that came with that power for his own. "Did I catch you at a bad time, Commander?" "No, of course not, Commodore." Grader gave a nervous tug to the edge of his wrinkled uniform. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your transmission?" "The review board just left there, correct? What was their decision?" Clenching his fists, Grader leaned back against his chair. "Her freakish

ability developed enough to please them. They decided there was no need for dismissal." Damn it! he'd thought the review board was transmitting to tell him it had changed its mind. "Do not despair, Commander. I've convinced the Prime to give you the opportunity to obtain a higher position." Higher than Base Administrator? Grader straightened in his chair. "Tell me." "An informant told us where to find the Bellarissian crown prince." A rush of satisfaction surged through Grader as he realized what they wanted from him. He couldn't halt the pleased smile that curled his lips. "You want me to interrogate him." Barkin nodded. "The Prime still believes your methods of interrogation are too severe, but has decided that in this case your skills might be appropriate." Grader leaned back, rubbing his chin. Finally, some appreciation for his talents. How could he use this to his advantage? "They must want something important from this Bellarissian, if they're willing to come to me to get it." "Do the Bellarissian defense plans sound important enough to you?" Barkin raised an eyebrow. "If you get that information from him, I have their assurance that you'll be installed as Bellariss' new governor." Bellariss' new governor! Governor Grader. Yes, that sounded very nice. He fingered the bars on the collar of his gray uniform, imagining they were gold suns. "When do I leave for Chula?" "You don't," Barkin said. "The prince on his way to you right now, on your next transport. Bellariss refused to ransom him, so the Prime has decided that he will suffer and die a slave." "Oh, he will, I'll guarantee it." Grader rubbed his hands together. He'd been itching to have free reign in an interrogation ever since Commodore Barkin had allowed him to peel the flesh off a captive, inch by inch. "You misunderstand me, Commander. Under no circumstances are you to be the cause of his death. If he can be broken, he could provide us with much more than just their defense plans. Perhaps the secrets of their impressive weaponry." Barkin's silver eyebrows drew down. "You aren't to touch him until he's regained his strength." Grader frowned. "I don't understand. An interrogator's best work comes from the weak. Why would I want to give him the strength to resist me?"

Barkin held up his hand, nodding. "I know. I'm the one who taught you that. But in this case, I have to agree with the Prime. He was in bad shape when they pulled him out of the pit. They're worried that he wouldn't survive even one of your light sessions in his condition." Grader clenched his fists in frustration. "How long am I to coddle this Bellarissian?" "Give him two weeks, Commander. Two weeks, then you can do your worst on him. Just make sure he doesn't die. Administrator Zoltan will receive a copy of your orders, so there will be no misunderstandings." Grader nodded, pleased that she wouldn't be able to stop him. If he'd done things her way, he would never have gotten the escape plans from the slave she'd exposed with her freakish bracelet. "What am I to do with him until I can interrogate him?" "Put him in with the general slave population. Let him work in the mines. But, under no circumstances is he to be put up for auction. They want him to break his back digging crystals, not pumping into some Cantaran slut." Grader grinned. "Understood, Commodore." "Barkin, out." The screen went white. Two weeks. Grader snorted. He'd just see about that. Bellarissians were said to be a hardy race, quick to heal. Surely a week on the slave transport would be sufficient rest. He'd just have to see how strong this Bellarissian prince appeared when he arrived. He rubbed his hands together, anticipation filling every pore of his body. Soon, he'd be on his way to having the power he so richly deserved. He felt like celebrating and Vita--she was awaiting her punishment right now. Images of what he could do to her flashed through his mind, making his snug trousers even tighter. Without a second thought, he strode from his office, out the building, and headed for his dwelling. If the administrator had a problem with his leaving early, she could just come get him herself. He might even invite her to join them. He'd never had a Cantaran slut in a mating fever before. The thought of her naked and writhing beneath him hardened his erection to the point of pain. Grader slapped his hand on the palm-lock of his dwelling and was through the door before it could slide completely open. It slid closed again with a quiet whoosh.

"Vita, you damned well better be ready for me." He yanked his trouser fastener open, allowing his erection to spring free. "Because I'm damned well ready for you." "Administrator, the shuttle is just setting down. Are you sure you don't wish to wait until the slaves have been prepared and put in the holding yard?" Ariana rubbed her fluttery stomach and shook her head, turning away from her office window to look at her aide Shalanna. "Grader's expecting something important on that transport, and I intend to be there when he gets it." "He has been acting strange these past few days." Shalanna scribbled notes on her pad while she walked beside Ariana down the pale gray corridor. The heels of their boots clicked softly on the black tiled-floor. "He's been badgering the communications crew every quarter hour for news of its arrival." Ariana absently rubbed her stomach, her mind agonizing over what viciousness Grader had in store for her now. "Are you all right?" Shalanna's normally serene gaze was clouded over with concern. Startled, Ariana stilled, glancing down at the bracelet-covered hand hovering over her abdomen. Letting it fall to her side, she smiled. "It's nothing really. I woke last night with this nervous, fluttery feeling and it never left me." The doors to the lift opened at their approach then closed immediately behind them and began its descent. Actually, the feeling had gotten worse. Her intuition was telling her something important was going to happen. She glanced down at her crystal. What do you think? The crystal pulsed in agreement. Somehow, that didn't make her feel any better. When they reached the doors leading outside, Ariana took a deep breath, then stepped into the bright sunshine. Light glinted off the shiny hull of the shuttle sitting on the landing pad. The blue and gold insignia of the Jotnar Alliance, a lightening bolt crushed in a fist, covered nearly the entire side of the ship, declaring ownership in a glaringly obvious way. The high-pitched whine of the engines gradually reduced as they powered down then shut off. She strode past the slave yard, trying her best to ignore the hostile stares of the men and women pressed against the fence. They hated her. She saw it in every glare, felt it in the air around her, and she didn't blame

them. She used their emotions to betray them, making her every bit as monstrous as a full-blooded Jotnar. The goddess had given her this gift to help people, and she was using it to hurt them. If the guardian of the crystals had known Ariana would be using the rainbow entity for this purpose, she would never have sent it. Sighing, Ariana prayed that she'd find a way to use her gift for the good of the people, instead of for the good of the Jotnar. What about your duty? She frowned. She could do her duty and help people at the same time. Couldn't she? Her duty was all she'd had for a very long time. It had sustained her through her difficult childhood. It had gotten her off Cantara, and away from her heartless mother. Why was it suddenly too much to bear? Because the Jotnar's ways went against everything she stood for. She believed in peace, equality, freedom. The Jotnar cared nothing for those things. And neither did Cantara. Her people had embraced the Jotnar's ways quickly enough. They'd gladly signed away the lives of their first born children in order to retain their government yet still reap the benefits of alliance. Technology, food, transportation for their precious silk--all tempting benefits, but it was slavery that they relished. It was slavery Ariana despised. By the time Ariana reached the landing pad, the hatch was open and a guard detail had entered the ship. From the ship came an outraged roar, and then a guard screamed as he came sailing out the hatch and thudded painfully on the ground. "Goddess above! Did they send us another Novan?" The cat-like Novans were dangerous when enraged. The roar came again as she ran to the ramp of the transport. "Administrator, please, stay back." Ariana ignored the guard and rushed up the ramp, knowing this was what drew her here, this was what had made her stomach buzz like it was full of moths. Skidding to a halt, she found five guards struggling with a golden hulk of a man. "You will not put that thing on me," the man growled, and shook off one of the men as if he were little more than an annoying little ankle-biter. Waves of fury assaulted her, making her stumble back. Goddess above!

It had been months since she'd been under such a strong emotional attack. Why? Why was she able to feel it without concentrating? The fury flowed over her unbidden, with enough strength to drown out her own feelings, enveloping her, filling her, becoming her own. "Stop!" Everyone stilled, even him. He turned his head slowly, nostrils flaring, and met her stare. Suddenly, the fluttering in her belly was gone, replaced with an awareness so hot she had to force herself not to reach out and touch him. He felt it too. She saw it in his widened eyes, felt it in the hot wave of denial rushing over her. He wasn't Novan. Oh no, he was something much rarer. So tall and strong and golden. And so proud. His chest heaved from exhaustion, yet his face gave no indication of any weakness. His cinnamon-brown eyes burned with a rage that promised retribution. You're Bellarissian, aren't you? In him she saw the proud image of the Great King Lysandros from her history books. The Bellarissian king who'd been brave enough to pull his people into seclusion rather than accept the Jotnar in their midst. The corners of his lips turned up in a mocking smile. Ariana mentally shook herself, forcing her gaze to the man in charge of the guards. "What goes on here, Lieutenant Caffy?" "He went wild when we tried to collar him." The burly, sandy-haired man nervously fingered the gold slave collar in his hands. "Then leave it off." She felt the slave's surprise, but kept her gaze focused on the guard. "But, Administrator Zoltan, Commander Grader ordered--" "Commander Grader is not in charge here. I am." A burst of hot denial assaulted her, making her flinch back a step. "I'm afraid you are mistaken in this case, Administrator." Ariana spun to face the door. Grader stood there, wearing a smug grin. "I have orders from Jotnar Prime. This Bellarissian trash is under my direct command." She stifled a gasp. "Why?" Grader slowly drew off his gloves as he approached, then situated himself between her and the golden one. He smiled, handing her a small silver data disk. Ariana thrust her hand out to Shalanna and immediately received her

pad. She slid the disk in and slowly scanned the document. Goddess above! This couldn't be right. They were giving Grader free rein to interrogate him. "There must be some mistake." The Bellarissian watched them banter with interest. A med-tech used his distraction to press a hypo-spray to his neck. He sagged unconscious into the arms of the guards. "Oh, there's no mistake, but feel free to check with Jotnar Prime." Grader's smile made her skin crawl. "I intend to." Ariana watched as they carried the golden Bellarissian away. "One more thing, Commander." He paused in the open hatch. "There's nothing in here that says you own him." She tapped the pad's screen. "The collar stays off." Grader's body went rigid, his anger nearly a palpable thing as he turned to glare at her. "You're becoming quite an annoyance." "And I am still your superior." "Not for long," he muttered, then turned and strode down the ramp. ~*~ Morgan glanced around the holding room, absorbing every detail. The room's single exit. The bare, rickety cots covering the gray-tiled floor and the thin slaves occupying half of them. The four white walls, unadorned except for a cleverly disguised observation window. He'd only found the window because he'd felt her watching him. It had been the same feeling he'd had when she'd boarded the shuttle and called those blasted guards off him. Gods, he remembered the way they'd arrogantly boarded the shuttle and tried to put that damned, cold band of metal around his neck. They'd actually been surprised when he resisted them. Did they think he'd willingly submit to this slave nonsense? He knew why they'd really sent him here. They'd sent him here because Grader was here, an interrogator that even the Jotnar considered brutal. So brutal, in fact, they'd had him reassigned to this world because the Jotnar occupation was limited to the base. They thought the threat of Grader, the humiliation of slavery, would finally wear him down. They just couldn't understand that he would die to protect his people from invasion, would die to protect the rebellion from failure. He would not betray them no matter what the Jotnar did to him. And neither would his mother. He'd known she would refuse to ransom him. He'd told them that, but

they didn't believe him. They'd hoped that she wouldn't be able to bear seeing her oldest son tortured, and would willingly give them the information they so painstakingly tried to extract from him. They were wrong. Morgan grinned, remembering the day they furiously yanked him out of the pit and told him they were sending him here like they were sending him to his execution. It had been worth the extra beating to see their shocked expressions when he laughed right in their faces. They'd thought he'd finally cracked. How wrong they were. Instead of breaking him like they'd hoped, they bolstered him up for the first time in months. They'd given him a reason to live. Being sent to Cantara meant that he wouldn't be trapped on Chula when the invasions began. It meant that he still had a chance. If Grader doesn't kill you first. No, they wouldn't let it go that far. They couldn't pump a dead man for information. The fact that they sent him Grader was proof enough that they didn't plan to give up. Releasing a frustrated sigh, Morgan flopped over on his side and glanced at the pneumatic doors flanked on either side by burly Elroodians holding laz-rifles. Only one way out, and it's guarded. Not that it would do him any good if he did manage to get out. This place sat atop a mountain, on a peninsula surrounded by water on three sides. He wouldn't get far on foot, but if he could get his hands on a transport"Are you really Bellarissian?" Morgan turned his head to look at Kari, the tiny young woman curled up on the cot next to his. Her wide blue eyes looked enormous in her small elfin face. When the guards had pulled him out of his cell on the slave transport and transferred him to the shuttle, she'd latched onto his side and had stayed nearby the entire trip. Surprisingly, her action had the rest of the slaves gravitating toward him for leadership. Perhaps they could sense his hostility toward the Jotnar. Perhaps they thought he would do something. Whatever the reason, he knew these strangers would follow him without question, and the thought was humbling. Shaking his head, Morgan forced his thoughts back to Kari's question. "Why do you want to know?" he whispered. She shrugged one bony shoulder, making her plain green shift slide higher on her thin legs. "I never seen one afore. Is it really as beautiful

there as the stories tell?" Her wistful expression brought a smile to Morgan's lips. "It's even more beautiful," he whispered. The stories had probably become severely exaggerated after nearly a century of telling, but there was no point in mentioning that. "And there's no slaves there?" "Not a one. We don't believe in owning other people." And it was for exactly that reason the slave worlds were going to be hit first when the invasions began. He was going to give those people their freedom. His shackles clanged together, reminding him just what his position was on this world. Slave. He shook his head. Never! Her rail-thin body trembled. "I wish I was there right now," she whispered. So do I. He laid his hand over hers. "Maybe you'll see it someday." He gently squeezed her fragile fingers, careful not to bruise them. Blast it! If this place was as bad as he'd heard, how long would a tiny thing like her last? A tear slipped from her eye and disappeared into her short, blonde hair. "No one leaves this place," Kari whispered. "Not alive." "That's going to change," he muttered beneath his breath. "What's going to change?" Morgan stiffened, jerking his gaze to the man standing at the foot of his cot. Drek! That was careless, damn it. He knew better than to make a slip like that, especially in front of someone like this. The man wore the plain, loose-fitting coveralls of a slave, yet something about him didn't quite ring true. Too tidy. Too well-fed. Too Jotnar. "Don't trust me?" The man smiled and sat on the edge of Morgan's cot. "No problem. Trust is something that's got to be earned here. My name's Jaxon." He held out his hand. When Morgan neither clasped his forearm nor gave his name, even after a long pause, Jaxon's smile slipped. "Well, no matter." He shrugged. "You're rest time is up. In a few minutes, they'll be taking you to Administrator Zoltan." Morgan's pulse leapt as an image of her aboard the shuttle immediately formed in his mind. Just a glance from those striking emerald eyes had sent his nerve endings tingling. Her mental touch had been like a soothing caress, instantly calming the fury that had been surging through him, only

to be replaced by an intense longing that had him wanting to bury his fingers in her rich chestnut hair and kiss her senseless. Which was, of course, totally insane. He couldn't forget that she'd worn the white and black uniform of Jotnar Command. A uniform he was far too familiar with. How could that beauty be in charge of a place like this? He pushed the thought away, knowing well that even beautiful women craved power. His obsession with one had cost him his best friend. No, he wouldn't forget that she was Jotnar, maybe not by blood, but Jotnar none the less. "Does she want all of us? Or just him?" A tall slave, probably Tellarin, nodded his dark head toward Morgan. The rest of his travel companions gathered around to hear what Jaxon had to say. He tensed, hoping it was the former. But, she had been watching him a lot over the past few hours. He'd felt her gaze slide over him so often, so thoroughly, it could have been her hands doing the touching. Gods, please, not again. He had no desire to play the game again--not with her. "They'll be taking all of you," Jaxon said. Morgan sighed, relaxing slightly. In the last few hours, they'd been cleaned up, tended by medical staff, fed, and allowed to rest. He'd known they were preparing them for something more. Now he knew for whom. "Why would a woman of her station want to see us?" "So she can screen you and decide whether you'll be sent to the mines, the caves, or be put up for auction." Screened? He remembered the effect her brief mental touch had on him. The thought of her probing his mind in earnest set off all the warning bells in his head. "What does this screening entail?" "You'll see." Jaxon rose just as the doors swished open and heavy boots clomped across the tile floor. An armed squadron of guards stood inside the doorway, their bodies tense and apparently expecting a fight. Elroodians seemed to be the Jotnar guard of choice, Morgan thought, noticing the size of the men striding toward them. The puny Jotnar were smart to realize that they offered little in the way of strength or intimidation. But what they lacked in size, they made up for in viciousness. He had the scars to prove it. "Everybody up!" The leader, Caffy, stuck his laz-rifle in Morgan's face, practically daring him to disobey. The slaves watched Morgan, waiting to see what he would do.

He stared at Caffy long and hard, waiting until the man trembled with fury and his black eyes blazed with the threat of retribution, before slowly rising to his feet. The others cloistered behind him. Caffy pointed the control at them. Their magnetic shackles drew together with a metallic clink, binding their wrists together in front of them. "Walk, or be dragged to the administrator unconscious. The choice is yours," he hissed in Morgan's face, then turned and stomped to the door. "Move it." A guard nudged him with the butt of his rifle. He moved. The others fell in step behind him as the guards ushered them out of the room and down the corridor. He'd go willingly. This time. If he fought them now, the others would likely join in, and he'd get them all killed. It wasn't the right time; he didn't have a plan. But later"Halt." Caffy barred Morgan's way with his rifle. "You hold back. Let the others go first. The rest of you, keep your eyes down and your mouths shut." He saw over their heads as one by one they stopped before the administrator. She stood as still as a sculpture, her eyes closed, her hand raised with her palm facing them. He cursed his traitorous heart for pounding so wildly at just the mere sight of her. When Caffy pushed him through the door, he was finally able to hear her sultry voice. "Auction." Her hand hovered over Kari's blonde head. {No!} Morgan's mind cried out. When the administrator stiffened, he called himself every vile name in his vocabulary. He hadn't meant to send that thought, blast it! He'd wanted to keep his telepathy a secret. "She's frail and weak. A household would be better suited for her then what we...have...here." The administrator's indignant tone trailed off as she focused her gaze on him. When Grader and the others looked puzzled by her explanation, Morgan realized she was the only one who heard him. Thank the gods. Ariana's breath caught at the sight of him. Magnificent, that's the only way she could think to describe him. The overhead light glinted off his short hair making the strands glisten like spun gold. His dark green coveralls fit snug over his broad shoulders, emphasizing his raw power instead of concealing it. He was simply the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. He stiffened, his cinnamon-brown gaze locking with hers. His eyes--they seemed to pull her toward him. She'd almost taken a step forward when

Grader loudly cleared his throat. "Can we get on with this? Or do you need more time to gape? Perhaps we should strip him for you." Ariana whirled around, her nails digging into her palms. Not even a chuckle slipped from the guards' lips as she stalked toward Grader. "Do not ever speak to me in such a disrespectful manner again. Do I make myself clear?" "Or what?" A mocking smile curled Grader's lips. "Or you'll find yourself in the barracks and your slave back in the pool." Grader's body went rigid. "You wouldn't dare!" "Try me." When she replaced him as administrator, she'd let him keep his dwelling and his slave, hoping to pacify him. Not that it had done her any good. He was still hostile and completely difficult. Grader's face flushed a blazing shade of red, his fists clenching and unclenching as he glared at her. Finally, he gave her a stiff nod. "Understood." "Good." She tamped down a surge of satisfaction. She didn't think he'd be too willing to give up his luxuries. "Now, tell me why he's here. He's already been assigned to the mines. Screening isn't necessary." Grader motioned Caffy to bring the Bellarissian forward. Even with his wrists shackled and the butt of Caffy's laz-rifle poking him in the back, he strode toward her with the regal grace of a king. Ariana could just imagine herself curtseying before him. The corners of his lips turned up in the barest hint of a smile. Stifling a gasp, she chastised herself for staring again. She was the most powerful person on the planet, and here she was mooning over this slave like a female Novan in heat. His grin widened. This time she did gasp. A hot blush crept up her neck and into her face. There was no way he could know what she was thinking. Could he? She shook her head. Psychic abilities were said to be rare on Bellariss, so the chances of him being able to read her mind were slim. Weren't they? Caffy smacked the back of his head. "Eyes down!" Ariana glared at Caffy, promising a reprisal for his action, before turning to Grader. "What is your purpose for bringing him here?" "I'd like for you to use your gift to determine whether or not this slave

will co-operate with our plans." "Your plans, Commander. Not mine." She raised her palm to hover over the Bellarissian's chest, and hesitated. She didn't want to do this, not to him. It felt like betrayal to even think about it, yet how could she refuse? Grader would report her for interfering with his orders. A reluctant sigh slipped past her lips as she let her lids drift closed. She concentrated, drawing in his emotions. Apprehension. Denial. Anger. The emotions were so intense they filled her, overwhelmed her, became her own. Ariana's chest heaved from the effort it took to draw breath. Then, without moving a muscle, he shoved her so hard she stumbled back. Her eyes flew open to meet his furious gaze. Goddess, his mental strength was amazing. No one had been able to push her out before, not even the Novan, and his people were known to be telepathic. Guess that answered Grader's question about cooperation. Forcing her gaze from his, she checked the crystal buzzing on her hand. The rainbow burst against the surface of the crystal then receded and the buzzing stopped. It had never done that before, had never disappeared without giving a reading. Why wouldn't it tell her anything about him? She should try again, should try to push past his mental defenses, but she didn't want to. She didn't want to fight this man for a few emotions, and her crystal's refusal to cooperate gave her a reason not to. Without it's guidance, his emotions told her nothing. Grader anxiously grabbed her arm. "Well?" Ariana shook him off and backed away a few steps to catch her breath, her gaze once again ensnared by the slave's. "I can't read him." His eyes widened, and a burst of surprise buffeted her like a strong breeze. He thought she lied. She hadn't, not really. "But your crystal--" "It shows me nothing, Commander." She met Grader's disbelieving stare. Her gift had failed her, and that filled her with immense relief. She turned, meeting the slave's gaze, and knew that this time his emotions merely echoed her own. "I cannot read him." Grader swore viciously. "Take him to the yard!" He spun stiffly on his heel and stomped out the other door. Ariana watched as Caffy and the other guards prodded the Bellarissian out the door. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his warm brown gaze catching hers for barely a second, then the doors closed behind him.

{Thank you.} The words whispered into her mind with the softness of a caress. Ariana's heart skipped a beat as she stared at the closed doors, then a soft smile curled her lips. She couldn't help feeling that she'd just been given a very special gift. "You're welcome," she whispered, then turned her attention back to the slave girl and smiled. "So, how are you at housekeeping?"

Chapter 3 Squinting against the harsh glare of the sun, Morgan wiped the sweat from his brow and gave the sandy rock-face in front of him a cursory glance. He shrugged. This looks as good a place as any. He placed his chisel in a small crevice then raised his mallet to strike. "I wouldn't hit that if I were you." Startled, Morgan jerked the mallet away, just missing the head of the chisel. Swearing silently, he spun on his heel to face a black-haired man, nearly as tall as himself, dressed in slave green. His legs were encased from ankle to hip in some kind of braces. "Nice recovery." The man's silver eyes sparkled with amusement. "If you had cracked that quartzite, everyone within ten meters of you would be dead. We're mining for Neutrillium." Morgan's fingers tightened around the tools in his hands until his knuckles whitened. One crack, and the radiation from the crystals within the quartzite would have killed him instantly and peeled the flesh from his body in minutes. "Bastards," he swore beneath his breath. The guards had specifically told him to start chiseling this spot. "They have a lousy sense of humor, don't they?" The man glanced up toward the guards on the rim, whose mocking laughter even now floated down to them. "It does leave something to be desired," Morgan agreed, drawing a laugh from his companion. "Get a move on, Chekron!" a guard ordered, passing by. "I hear and obey, oh great one," the slave replied in a subservient tone, his expression anything but. He turned back toward Morgan and removed the goggles from around his neck. "Here, you'll need these."

Juggling his tools into one hand, Morgan took the goggles from him. "With these on, you'll be able to distinguish the quartzite from the regular sandstone." The wall of rock in front of him looked to be one solid surface, but when Morgan held the goggles up to his eyes, the surface immediately changed. Patches of bright green appeared all over. "The green is the quartzite. Chisel around it to expose it, but never directly strike it." The slave turned to walk away. "Chekron," Morgan called out, stopping him. "Thank you." "Keep your thanks. I'm saving my own ass." Chekron grinned and gave him the old federation salute, right fist to heart. His leg braces squeaked as he turned once more and walked away. Morgan stared after him. Was there a hidden message in that salute? Shrugging, he put on the goggles and faced the rock. He placed the chisel correctly this time and raised the mallet to strike. Your plans, Commander. Not mine. The administrator's sultry voice floated through his mind, stilling his hand. She'd helped him last night. Why? Why would she tell Grader that she couldn't read him when she had? He'd felt her in his mind just before he'd pushed her away, yet she'd said nothing. And. something was strange about the way she touched him. It wasn't the touch of a telepath, yet he received flashes of images and feelings from her. A fluke, that's what it was. He refused to believe it could be anything else. Forcing all thoughts of her aside, he raised the mallet and struck the head of the chisel. He spent hours, in the heat and harsh sun, chiseling away at the sandstone, her image in his mind. Her long, wavy chestnut hair, her emerald eyes, her soft pink lips. Sweat beaded on his brow, ran down his face and into the goggles, stinging his eyes. Raising the goggles, Morgan wiped the sweat from his face and was startled by what he saw. Her image chiseled into the stone. He reached out to touch the lips, turned up in a gentle smile, then swore, jerking his hand away. A set of tools in his hands and an image in his mind, and without a thought, he'd reverted back to the habits he'd worked so hard to forget. A future king had no time for frivolous pursuits. Hadn't he been told that time and time again? Did he need to be

reminded here of all places? You'll have plenty of time for frivolity later, when your sister takes the crown, his rebellious mind taunted. That is, if you manage to get home. Raising the chisel, Morgan viciously struck the rock until no sign of the carving remained, then set himself to the work he was supposed to be doing. By the time the guards called the break, he'd uncovered a quartzite nearly a meter wide. He had a feeling that the radiation from a rock that size would have spread more than ten meters. "Let's go, Your Highness. Your feast awaits." The guard laughed, taking Morgan's tools, and gave him a hard shove toward the lift. Morgan stiffened and glared down at the man. He was hot, thirsty, and his stomach ached with hunger. He certainly was in no mood for power games with a rodent half his size. When he was ready, and not a moment before, he turned and joined the line of slaves waiting to climb onto the lift that would carry them out of the rock pit. "Arrogant bastard! I ought to--" The Guard's laz-rifle powered up with a high-pitched whine. Morgan instinctively tensed then glanced back at him. "Ought to what? Kill me? Go ahead, but I don't think your commander would be very happy with you." The guard glared at him for a long moment, then swearing, powered down his weapon. "Move slave!" That word sent the urge to strike out pulsing through him. Gods above! Didn't the idiot realize that Morgan could kill him with one well-aimed punch? Tempting as it was, he knew the other guards would kill him if he did. He had no intention of making it that easy for them. With one last glare, he boarded the lift with the other slaves and guards. When they reached the rim, the guards herded them onto a transport and flew them back to the compound. Within minutes, they stood in the slave yard, lined up to receive their food and water rations. "Oh, ho! What is this? His Highness waiting in line?" A familiar-looking guard shook his head, walking up to him. "This won't do." He grabbed Morgan's arm, pushing him toward a table set away from the others. "Right this way, your Highness," another guard said with a sweeping bow. "We have special fare prepared for you." Morgan smelled the contents of the plate even before he saw what it was. Clenching his jaw, he yanked them to a halt. "I will not play your

games." "Bellarissians are fit for nothing but refuse," the first guard spat. "You'll eat that, or nothing." "You eat it." Morgan gave him a hard shove. The guard went flying backwards into the table. It collapsed under him, crashing to the ground. He came up sputtering, his uniform covered in feces and urine, his face red with fury. "You'll pay for that!" He drew his weapon. "Put that away, Jaxon. You can't kill him," the other guard ordered as a crowd gathered around them to watch the prank gone wrong. Their laughter only served to infuriate him more. Jaxon. Now Morgan remembered. He'd seen this man before, only yesterday he'd been in the guise of a slave, not a guard. Chekron shoved his way through, situating himself between Morgan and the enraged guard. "We beg your pardon, oh powerful one. We shall remove our offal selves from your presence." He backed away, shoving Morgan with him. Once clear of the crowd and the guards, Chekron pushed Morgan into the corner furthest from them and told him to sit. Moments later, he returned with his bowl and cup. "Here." He pressed them into Morgan's hands. "Eat." Morgan shook his head. "I can't take your food." "Eat it," he insisted, easing himself down to sit next to Morgan on the hard-packed dirt. "I can get more." Morgan's stomach rumbled, making the decision for him. Chekron grinned. "Now you owe me." He glanced back at the glowering guards. "And, I will collect. You can count on it." ~*~ Leaning his head back against the yard fence, Morgan sighed. It had been a very long day. His shoulders ached from hours of chiseling, but not as bad as they had a few hours earlier when he and the crew had been brought back after their second shift. The hot shower he'd taken had gone a long way toward relieving his pain. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that the dinner that followed hadn't been enough to satisfy his hunger. The guard handed him a bowl only half as full as the others were getting, but at least they'd left him alone. No tricks this time.

No, they'd saved their goading for when the women were brought in to choose partners for their half-hour allotment of sex. Kari, his little blonde elf, had latched onto him as soon as she'd entered the yard. "I can't, Kari," he'd said. "Please," she begged. "I don't choose someone, they'll choose for me. Please, let it be you." She was little more than a child. Everything in him had wanted to deny her, yet he couldn't. Those tear-filled eyes had torn right through his thick hide and pierced his heart. The guards had taken the decision away from him. They'd dragged her away saying that they wouldn't let him defile their women, not even one as worthless as a slave. So here Morgan sat, watching the lavender sky turn deep purple with the coming of night, trying to ignore the sighs and moans and grunts coming from the barracks across the yard. Soon the women would be returned to their own barracks, the men that hadn't been chosen would be shuffled off to bed, and the compound would grow quiet. And, he'd spend another night on this hard bench. He shrugged, thinking that it didn't bother him too much. It got cold last night, too cold to sleep, but that wasn't a bad thing. If he couldn't sleep, then he couldn't dream. And his dreams couldn't become nightmares that would wake him with a silent scream lodged in his throat. "What are you doing out here?" a sultry voice asked, just as a soft hand curled over his shoulder. Morgan jerked away, turning to face the woman on the other side of the fence. She was a slave, but unlike the other women, her thick auburn hair had been allowed to grow, falling well past her shoulders. She was beautiful, despite the bruise marring her smooth cheek, and she reminded him of Brinna. That alone was reason to stay away from her. The fact that she was roaming around free on the other side of the fence was an even better reason. It meant she had a master. She smiled, running her tongue over her full lower lip. "I can't believe no one chose you. They must be blind." She reached her hand through the fence and touched his chest. Morgan stepped back.

She laughed, dropping her hand. "You don't think I'll let this little fence stop me, do you?" She turned and strode toward the gate, her hips swaying under her green shift. Just like Brinna. Unafraid to go after what she wanted, used to getting it. Quite often, by the looks of it. She whispered into the guard's ear and was immediately admitted into the yard. Smiling wickedly, she sidled up to Morgan, her full breasts pressing against his chest. "Why don't you and I go into that dark corner for a little while?" She asked, running her long fingernail over his bottom lip. Morgan grasped her hand, pulling it away. "I don't think so." "Get your hands off my slave!" The woman flinched, moving away even as Morgan turned toward the voice. Grader. He strode toward them, stiff with fury. The guards rushed Morgan, slamming him into the fence. He only managed to throw one of them off before they activated his shackles, binding his wrists together. "Little whore!" Grader backhanded the woman, sending her sprawling on the ground. "Get back to my dwelling. You'll be punished severely when I arrive." She scrambled to her feet and ran as Grader turned his rage-filled stare on Morgan. "And you," he snarled. "You'll be punished right now. Put him on the rack." Despite Morgan's struggles, the guards used his magnetic shackles to fasten him to a device attached to the fence. He felt the crowd growing behind him. In front of him, he saw the snickering guards gathering on the other side of the fence as his coveralls were cut away from his back. He heard the buzz of the electric whip getting closer and tensed, his muscles straining against his bonds. "Don't ever touch what's mine." Grader unfurled the whip. It crackled in the air, raising the hair on Morgan's body. The first lash struck him across the length of his back, sending the breath rushing from his lungs. He nearly bit through his tongue to keep from crying out. Grader gave him no time to prepare for the next stroke, or the next. Morgan writhed in pain, his hands tightly wrapped around the bars of the fence, as each lash sent a burning jolt through his body. A groan escaped him.

Grader grabbed his hair, yanking his head back. "Bet you're sorry you touched her now, aren't you? She wasn't worth it, was she?" "Drek off," Morgan forced out in a hoarse whisper. Grader's face reddened, then he let go with a jerk, banging Morgan's head into the fence. The lash struck viciously, sending a burning fire across his throat. He gagged, then his legs gave out. The weight of his body yanked painfully on his wrists, digging the shackles in so deep that blood dripped down his arms. Unable to fight the pain, unable to draw breath, Morgan slipped toward blessed oblivion, only to be doused with icy water. The shock of it jolted him, sending another wracking volley of pain through is body. He sputtered and coughed, trying to regain his feet but couldn't. The shackles released, dropping him painfully to the ground. Exposed to the cool night air, the warm blood dripping down his back and arms chilled his ravaged skin, adding to his agony. "Take him to interrogation," Grader ordered. "It's time we had our little chat." The guards hoisted Morgan up and dragged him through the yard, knocking the enraged slaves out of the way, then hauled him into the complex, heading straight for the interrogation room. I can't do this. I can't fight this anymore, he chanted over and over in his mind as they strapped him into the shock chair. His back was on fire, his throat hurt, and every muscle in his body trembled in agony. When the shock chair started its jolting cycle, zapping him square in the back, Morgan knew that before long he'd be telling them anything they wanted to know just to get them to stop. He needed a distraction. The doors behind him swished open. "Turn it up," Grader ordered, moving to stand in front of Morgan, a sadistic smile on his face. The chair grew louder as the current built then struck. Morgan clenched his teeth, refusing to cry out even though he could no longer feel his arm. He had to stay silent until they managed to kill him. An excruciating zap in the back of his neck told him it shouldn't take long. Ah, gods, he needed that distraction now! The administrator! If she could help him one more time, there might yet be hope to protect his people. Squeezing his eyes shut, he mentally reached out, searching for her presence. He prayed to the gods that she was near, because he didn't think he had enough strength to reach past

the compound. An image of a bright purple thread began to form in his mind. It reached out, winding and curving, as it searched. The chair zapped him hard in the thigh, jolting the thread to a halt. Morgan gasped, struggling to keep his concentration focused on the thread, praying that he would find her, soon. Grader grabbed his hair, yanking his head painfully back. Morgan opened his eyes, but Grader's face remained unfocussed. His words sounded far away, but insistent. "What were you doing on Tellari?" He backhanded Morgan hard across the face. "Tell me how to get past the Bellarissian defense system!" He struck him again. Morgan closed his eyes, letting Grader's voice fade away, and urged the thread to move. It did, slowly, and then he felt her. He'd found her, here in the compound, and she was upset. He could feel her confusion, her pain. He reached out to her. {Help me,} his mind cried out. {Please!} At first there was nothing, then he felt her reaching out to him. A bright pink thread appeared and stopped just short of his. The pink thread strained to touch the purple, but the purple recoiled. It was then that Morgan knew what the threads represented, their souls, and his was balking. {Help me,} he urged, and forced the purple toward the pink. The pink leapt, tangling itself around the purple, twisting and knotting. Suddenly, the threads brightened, turning gold, then slowly straightened out into a single, unbroken thread. Ariana, her name was Ariana. He didn't know why he knew that; it just came to him. And then Morgan realized what he'd just done. He'd bonded with her. {Ariana, help me.} "I don't know what to do!" Ariana cried, tears streaming down her face. She could feel him weakening. "Tell me what to do." {I can't tell them--my people--} "Don't tell them anything! Do you hear me, Morgan? It's not safe. Don't talk until it's safe." She couldn't move, couldn't do anything but chant the words over and over as the tremors rolled over her-tremors that echoed the pain wracking through his body. "I've got to stop this!" She pulled herself to her feet. They're killing him. Orders or not, I've got to stop him. "Morgan, I'm coming."

{No, stay away.} His mental voice was so weak. A pain sliced through him so sharp, she felt it and stumbled. The thread of awareness linking them together pulled tight and snapped. Then he was gone. "No!" Unmindful of her casual dress, Ariana ran from her dwelling and across the compound. Voices called out to her, offering assistance, but she ignored them. The second she was inside the complex, she slapped her palm on the wall computer terminal and ordered a medical team to meet her at Interrogation, then she turned and sprinted down the corridor. He'll pay! She vowed he would pay dearly as she stormed into the interrogation room. The medical team entered right behind her. She saw Morgan lying on the floor where they'd dumped him, only a few feet from that cursed chair. Grader stood before his rack of torture implements. He whirled to face her when the doors closed behind her. "What is the meaning of this?" Ariana ignored him, rushing to Morgan. She blinked back the tears that threatened to fill her eyes as she knelt beside him. It hurt just to look at him. Burned, bloody welts crisscrossed his back. One ran over his shoulder and wrapped around his neck. Bright red patches dotted his exposed skin--burns from the shock chair. Afraid to touch him, she motioned the medical team forward. As soon as she received affirmation that he was alive, she backed away, allowing them to work. "How dare you!" Grader approached her, his body rigid, fury emanating from every pore. "My orders--" "Specifically stated that you were not to touch him for two weeks!" She spun on her heel and stomped over to the com unit on the wall. "Connect me directly with the Prime." After a few minutes, Captain Jojev appeared on the large viewscreen, looking annoyed at having been disturbed at home. "It's a bit late, is it not, Administrator?" "It is, Captain." Ariana bowed her head to him. "I apologize for the late hour, but I had to report this criminal act before Commander Grader has a chance to destroy the evidence." "Oh, please," Grader snorted, moving to stand beside her.

"What crime, Administrator?" Ariana moved aside so Morgan would be visible to the viewscreen. "His orders clearly stated that he was not to interrogate this slave for two weeks. Look at him! He's barely alive." "Is that true, Technician?" One of the medical technicians working on Morgan lifted his head and nodded. "His pulse is dropping rapidly. There's nothing more I can do to save him." Ariana's heart lurched into her throat as she turned her head to look at him. No, Morgan, hang on! Please don't die. "The Prime will be most displeased, Commander. They had plans for this...slave." "But--" Captain Jojev held up his hand. "A hearing for your treasonous act will be drawn immediately." "Treason?" Ariana whispered. "Was there something more, Administrator?" "Yes!" she blurted, then forced herself to speak in a normal tone. "I'd like to claim this slave." "You can't be serious!" "Silence, Commander!" Jojev ordered, then turned his steady gaze on Ariana. "Do you realize what you're asking?" Ariana nodded even though she sensed some hidden meaning in his question. It didn't matter. All that did matter was saving Morgan's life. "He's going to die." Ariana shook her head. "Not if I can help it." "If he doesn't die, he can still talk," Grader said, forcing her to look at him. "No, Commander." She shook her head. "One careless lash of your whip took care of that. Look at his throat." Grader stooped down and yanked Morgan's head back, exposing a wicked red slash that even now oozed blood. He swore viciously, letting Morgan's head drop to the floor. "Please, Captain, I don't have much time to waste."

Jojev nodded, sending her heart racing as hope filled her. "You've been a loyal officer. We'll grant your claim, but I warn you, don't make us feel we've made a mistake." "Yes, sir." Ariana saluted him and rushed to Morgan's side, ignoring them now that she had what she wanted. She'd worry about Jojev and his hidden messages later. "Get him to my shuttle, now!" Once Morgan was safely aboard and they were up in the air, Ariana knelt by his side and held tightly onto his hand. "I don't know what happened between us back there, but I'm not going to let it go. You're going to be all right, Morgan. You're going to be all right."

Chapter 4 "We don't treat his kind here." The emergency medical assistant barred their entrance into the Ardelis Medical Facility, the best on the planet. "Do you have any idea who I am?" The urge to smack him was really strong, but Ariana held back. She wasn't wearing her uniform; he couldn't know who she was. Folding his arms across his chest, the med-assistant shook his head, his expression indicating that it didn't matter to him. Ariana glanced back at Morgan, lying so still on the stretcher her guards held. He looked bad. His breathing was shallow, and his golden skin had faded to a sickly white color. "I'd love to stand here all night and argue with you, but he doesn't have the time." She pointed at Morgan. "Doctor Arneshton is on duty tonight, is she not?" "Yes, but I don't see--" "You tell her that Administrator Zoltan needs her assistance immediately. His life--and yours-depends on how quickly you can get her down here." The med-assistant paled and reached blindly for the com. Barely two minutes after he'd relayed the message, Nikita Arneshton came running down the corridor. "Ariana, what's wrong?" She spotted Morgan on the stretcher and rushed to him, pulling a medical scanner from her pocket. As she slowly ran the device over him, her lips tightened in a grim line. "Get him into the Bio Unit immediately." "But doctor--"

Ariana held up her hand, glaring him into silence. "I'm giving you a direct order. Move him, now, or I'll see you scrubbing sanitation tanks for the duration of your career." The man flinched, then jumped up from his seat to show the guards where to take Morgan. Nikita and Ariana followed along behind them. "Just for formality's sake, you're under direct orders as well," Ariana said, giving Nikita something to use should her superiors take her to task for disobeying their rules. Nikita nodded, her eyes trained on her patient. "What happened to him?" "Grader," Ariana spat. His name left a foul taste in her mouth. "The Prime gave him orders to interrogate him. Blast it! I should have known this would happen. He never was good at following his orders to the letter." Nikita gave her arm a comforting squeeze then followed the stretcher into the room. The doors quietly slid closed behind her. When the guards came out, Ariana sent them back to Admitting to make sure that med-assistant kept his mouth shut and his hands off the com until Morgan was safe. The Cantaran government couldn't do anything to Ariana for breaking their rules against treating slaves, but if someone showed up now, they could force Nikita to stop treatment, leaving Morgan to die. Blast these people! They treated their pets better then their slaves. If a slave received medical treatment at all, it was in some low-funded clinic with archaic equipment and barbaric procedures. She shuddered, remembering the one time she'd witnessed a deep gash being repaired on a slave woman's thigh. The so-called doctor had injected her with barely enough medication to deaden the pain, then actually stitched the gash closed with a needle and thread. The poor woman had to walk around with that thread in her leg for a week while the cut mended on its own. It was simply criminal to force anyone to suffer like that when a half-hour in a bio-bed would have healed the wound completely, leaving her with only a slight scar. Scowling, Ariana turned away from the doors and started pacing the corridor--a nasty habit she resorted to whenever she was nervous or agitated. Right now, she felt a strong amount of both. Goddess above, these people made her ashamed to admit that she was half Cantaran. But, she sighed, ranting about Cantara wouldn't help Morgan. The problem

was, Ariana couldn't help him right now. All she could was pray that she'd gotten him to Nikita in time. If anyone could save him, Nikita could. So, Ariana paced and prayed. When she realized she had passed the closed doors for the fifth time in half as many minutes, she pressed her fisted hands against her eyes. "Blessed Sheena, what's wrong with me?" She sank down onto the hard bench across from the doors. She just didn't understand it. Morgan had done something to her back there, had somehow become a part of her, and now that she couldn't feel him anymore, she felt torn in half. She kept hoping for something, a brief flicker of awareness, anything that would tell her he was going to be all right. After an hour of this empty, desolate feeling, Ariana was ready to beat down the doors and demand to know what was happening. The light panel above the doors turned green, indicating it was now safe to enter the room without risking the patient's health. She didn't wait for a personal invitation. The moment she was through the doors, she strode directly to where Morgan lay encased in a bio bed. He looked so helpless. Wanting to touch him, but knowing she couldn't, she let her gaze travel over him--his hair, his face, the strong column of his neck. His skin had regained some of its golden hue; that had to be a good sign. "How is he?" "Alive." Nikita stripped off her sterile gown. "I had to resuscitate him once, but he's stable now." Ariana's breath caught. Goddess above, she'd barely gotten him here in time. Then she caught Nikita's pensive look. "What is it?" "I can only give him four hours in the bed. He's got to be out of here before Dr. Creeley comes in to relieve me." "Will that be enough time?" "For the serious stuff, yes, but he'll need a couple days of care and rest. Will that be a problem?" "No." Ariana shook her head. "I'll take care of him myself." If he needed a month to recover, she'd see that he had it. "You? But Ariana, he's a slave. How can you--" "They would have let him die on the floor where they dumped him. I had to claim him."

"Ariana--" "I know," she held out her hand, "I swore I'd never own another being, but when Morgan reached out to me for help, I just couldn't refuse him." Nikita gasped. "His name is Morgan?" "Yes, but the strange thing is that his name just came to me when our minds touched . . ." Her words trailed off as she watched Nikita rush over to the computer terminal. She looked over Nikita's shoulder as she scanned through Morgan's records. "What is it?" "I can't believe it!" Nikita stopped on an image of Morgan's back. "Ariana, do you know who he is?" Apprehension filled her, telling her she really didn't want to know. She asked anyway. "Who is he?" "This is the Crown Prince of Bellariss." Ariana shook her head. "Yes! Ariana, look at that scar." "He has many scars." "All of them are recent, except for this one." Nikita pointed to a small crescent-shaped scar on the back of his hip. "Bellarissian medicine doesn't leave scars. This one was left intentionally." "But that doesn't mean--" "I know someone who has one identical to this. He wouldn't tell me happened, but they were together. The prince's father purposely made them heal the old-fashioned way as some sort of a lesson." "Who told you this?" "I can't tell you." Nikita's eyes pleaded for understanding. "I can't betray his confidence, but I know for a fact that the prince has a scar like this." Ariana gasped, her hand covering her mouth. Now the hidden message in the captain's words was clear. "They're testing my loyalty." "What?" "They knew all along who he was, and they let me have him anyway." They knew about her father, knew she had to feel something about seeing a Bellarissian slave in her compound. And now that she owned him, they had to wonder what she would do with him. She told Nikita her speculations. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to get him well, then I'm going to get him off Cantara without them knowing I'm involved." Ariana just wished she knew how. Moving to look down at Morgan, she rested her gaze on his beautiful face. "I'm going to get you home, Morgan. I promise." With one final slam, Grader arched, grunting as his seed spilled into Vita. Her pained gasp drew his gaze to her mottled, swollen face. He rolled off her and gave her a hard shove, tumbling her to the floor. Her cry of pain echoed of the walls of his lavishly decorated room, his sanctuary. "You sicken me. Get out of my sight." Vita crawled slowly away, whimpering. Grader vaulted from the bed, intending to give her something to cry about. He drew back his foot to kick her just as his com beeped. He scowled at the door, then gave her butt a hard shove, sending her sprawling onto her face with a satisfying thud. Ignoring her sobs, he strode out of the bedroom to answer the com. It beeped again just as he reached for it. A moment later, his father's dignified face filled the screen. "I'm glad to see you're so worried about this situation." His gaze took in Grader's naked chest. "I was working off a little frustration." Grader sprawled in his desk chair, hanging a bare leg over the arm. "Were you able to get the treason charges withdrawn?" "It took a lot of cajoling, a lot of favors, and a lot of credits, but I managed to get the treason charges reduced to excessive use of force." "What does that mean?" "That means that your impatience has lost you the governorship of Bellariss and that the review board will likely re-assign you. A demotion, Pavel." His father's disappointed tone stirred memories of other lectures, other failures. "We've worked so hard for this, and you blew it with your impatience!" His father glared at him. "We will speak of this more later. I must go console your mother. She had her heart set on living in the Bellarissian royal palace." The screen went white, leaving Grader alone and furious in the room. Cantaran bitch! This was all her fault. If she hadn't interfered.... Clenching his fists, Grader strode into the sanitary. He found Vita leaning over the basin, splashing her face with water. His nose wrinkled from the stench that assaulted his nostrils. How dare she vomit in his sanitary!

Grabbing Vita by the hair, Grader yanked her head back, forcing her to meet his glare in the mirror. The sight of her swollen, tear-streaked face, and the blood trickling from her nose, gave him a small amount of satisfaction, but not enough to lessen the fury surging through him. "You fared far better than he did," Grader snarled in her ear. "Even now, he could be lying on a cold slab in the freezer. Remember that the next time you decide to act on one of your whorish whims." Releasing her with a jerk, Grader turned and strode out of the small room. He'd better be lying on a cold slab! Bellarissian bastard! No one touches what's mine. And that Zoltan bitch, she's going to pay for what she did. He clenched his fists, staring through his window at the dark sky. Before he left this place, he'd see her destroyed, and if her Bellarissian slave still lived, he'd see him dead. The ancient wood door opened with a quiet creak, flooding the dark room with light from the hall. A slender female stood silhouetted in the doorway. "There's a transmission for you." The soft night breeze floating through the open window lifted wispy tendrils of long black hair around the dark man leaning against the sill, giving him an other-worldly aura. He turned his gaze back to the stars and shook his head. "Not now, Mayori." "It's Nikita." Sighing, he turned away from the window and strode to his desk. "I'll take it in here." Niki wouldn't contact him unless it was important. "Visual?" "No." In a few minutes, Niki's soft voice floated to him through the com. "I'm sorry, I know this is a big risk for you--" "Not just me. You're risking yourself." "I know, but I thought you'd want to know about the patient I just released." "Who?" "Your friend with the scar." "What friend?" Niki meant a lot to him, but he'd been buying people for enough years to know that anyone could be had if the price was right. "You once told me of a friend with a crescent-shaped scar. I just treated him."

Tensing, he asked, "You're sure?" "Listen, Rico--" "No names!" "I'm sorry! But, blast it, I know it's him." She always got angry with him when she knew she was right and he dared to doubt her. That in itself was reason to hear more; Morgan's safety was another. "Where is he now?" There was a long moment of silence. "With Ariana, recuperating." Swearing, he bolted from his chair. "No! That slaver will not make Bellariss' future king her whore." "She had to do it! Their medical staff couldn't save him, and she couldn't take him off the base unless he belonged to her. She barely got him here in time." That last brought him up short. "Will he be all right?" He slid into his chair. "I think so. He was still unconscious when he left here, but everything seemed to be mending well. I just wish I could have given him more time in the bed." "I'm sure you did your best. You always do. Thank you for letting me know." By contacting him, she'd risked her job, even her freedom. He wouldn't forget it, and he wouldn't be so quick to question her loyalty again in the future. "No thanks are necessary. Will I see you soon?" No, he couldn't. Someone had betrayed him, someone close to him, and he couldn't risk being seen and captured. Drek! Of all the times someone could have discovered his identity, why now, when Morgan needed him? "I'll let you know. Sleep well." He ended the transmission, then immediately tapped in the code for the one person who might be able to help Morgan--Boyan Damon. This code went directly to his office. There would be no need to give a name before being connected, alerting eavesdroppers to listen in. "This is Defense Minister Damon. Turn on your visual." "No." There was a slight pause, then, "Is there news?" "He's been moved to Cantara."

"Is he all right?" "He's alive. Can you get him out?" "No, we can't risk it." "Drek! I'll get him out." The person he'd been six years ago may have died, but his loyalty hadn't. He wouldn't leave his prince, his friend, on a slave world to avoid risking his own hide. "No, you can't. The first strikes are due to hit in less than two weeks. If he disappears, we'll lose the element of surprise." "You're going ahead with the invasion plans?" "That's what he wanted," Boyan replied, his tone defensive. "All right, I'll leave him where he is, but I'll make sure he has some protection." "Thank you. We can't ask for more than that." "You don't have to," he snapped. "I'll contact you if there's any change. End transmission." He jabbed the com harder than he needed to, then swiveled his chair so he could stare out the window at the night sky. Blast! He'd given up caring about what people thought of him years ago, but he hadn't expected this from an old friend. Boyan had treated him with as much care and caution as one would in approaching a rabid wolven. If this was how Boyan reacted, gods only knew how Morgan would react. Morgan had believed in his innocence from the beginning and had struggled to find the proof that finally cleared his name, and how had he repaid him? By betraying that belief, becoming the monster he'd been accused of being. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to get involved with anyone from his former life. It roused feelings he'd buried long ago, like regret and guilt. Dangerous feelings for a man in his line of work. Feelings he promptly re-buried. He'd gained power with his monstrous reputation, and he refused to feel anything but satisfaction in that. Until he saw Morgan safely home to his family--something he intended to see happen as soon as possible--that power would protect him. If he took his fastest ship, he could reach Cantara in two days. And by that time, Morgan's condition had better have vastly improved or he would personally introduce Ariana Zoltan to the Magician. It had been a long time since anyone had heard of the Magician making someone disappear, he now left that kind of business to the other members in the Guild, but he would do it for Morgan.

"Mayori," he called out. She appeared in the doorway. "Get the Dryad ready. We're going on a trip."

Chapter 5 Ariana had dreamed of having Morgan in her bed, but not like this. Two days! Two blasted days and he still hadn't awakened. He lay there still as a corpse. His warm skin and the steady heartbeat beneath her palm were her only assurances that he wasn't exactly as he appeared--dead. She hovered over the med-tech's shoulder as he examined Morgan. The tech shook his head and stepped back. "I'm sorry, Administrator. I can find no medical reason for him to still be unconscious." Disbelief ran filled her every pore as she stared at Morgan's peaceful face. No, it wasn't possible. "How can there be no reason--wait! No medical reason. Are you implying that there may be a nonmedical reason?" The tech shrugged, his face flushing as he glanced away from her. "Maybe he doesn't want to live." Ariana's heart skipped a beat. Could that be it? Had Morgan hidden his conscious-self away somehow? Hidden from his painful existence? She sat on the edge of the bed beside him and lightly traced her fingers over the pale pink scars that crisscrossed his muscular chest. Scars that had been put there before he arrived on Cantara. An uncomfortable cough drew her gaze to the tech. He stood rigidly at attention, his gaze fixed on the wall over her shoulder and fiery red blotches staining his cheeks. "Thank you. You may go." She refused to be embarrassed about touching her slave in front of him. As she watched him bow and take his leave, her thoughts came back to her. Her slave. Goddess above! She hated slavery, and here she was thinking of Morgan in those terms. "You're not my slave, Morgan. I swear it," she whispered, smoothing her fingers across his brow, down his chiseled cheekbones, and along his strong jaw. "I'll prove it to you, but you have to come back to me. Where are you? Where are you hiding?" She closed her eyes and concentrated, but could feel no emotions from him. Blast! She wouldn't give up. She'd see him back to the living. "Come on, Morgan. Come back to me." Ariana stripped back the covers,

exposing every luscious inch of sun-kissed flesh that the goddess had blessed him with. It was wrong to gape at him without his consent, but she just couldn't help herself. He was entirely too enticing, especially the flaccid member at the juncture of his thighs, which promised to be so extraordinary when aroused. An image of herself wrapped in his embrace flashed into her mind. She shivered at the thought, then tamped it down. Any intimacy between them would be his choice. She wouldn't make any demands on him. But if he seemed inclined, she certainly wouldn't turn him away. She took one last long look, then grabbed her silk robe from the foot of the bed. She sighed, draping it across his groin. It was a shame to cover such magnificence, but until he was conscious, she had to concentrate on something besides having sex with him. Starting with his feet, she began massaging his muscles, working her way up his body. The whole time she manipulated his slack muscles, she talked to him. She spoke of her childhood and its loneliness. About the brother she'd loved so much and lost. About her enlistment and training period, how she'd been the only one who seemed to care about the treatment of other beings. Her dreams of the future occupied a large portion of time. How she wanted to do something good with her gift. Something that would help people, instead of hurt them. She sat there stroking him, speaking of anything that came to mind. Her voice had to get through to him. If she talked long enough, loud enough, maybe he'd wake just to tell her to shut up. Hours had passed before she finally dragged herself away from him. She hated to leave him, even for a moment, but they needed nourishment. Turning on the bedside light, she rose and headed for the eating area. After retrieving a protein drink from the food station, she grabbed the nutrition hypo Nikita had given her from the table, and headed back to her sleep chamber. No change. He lay in the same position she'd left him in. Ariana sighed. "Blast you, Morgan." Yanking his head to the side harder than necessary, she pressed the hypo to his neck. The medication entered his bloodstream with a quiet hiss. "Some king you'll make, hiding from reality when your people need you." She sat on the edge of the bed with her back to him. "What about

your family? I bet they're worried about you. Don't you care? They need you!" She clenched her fists, fighting against the anguish that threatened to overwhelm her. Blast it! Her crystal pulsed on the back of her hand the same time she felt a flicker of awareness, a flicker of ... something. Her heart pounded wildly against her ribs as she turned and saw his hand twitch. Yes! The awareness faded, leaving her chilled. "No, don't go!" She chafed his hand. "Come back. Don't leave me. Oh, blast, what's wrong?" She glanced down at her crystal but it was clear, the entity hiding. "Please! Tell me what's wrong. Help me. I swear, I don't want to hurt him." Still nothing. "I promise not to use you again unless it's to help someone." The crystal slowly began to vibrate, the rainbow rising to the surface. It shimmered, just for a moment, before clouding over. He'd given up the will to live. "No!" Ariana straddled Morgan's hips and gripped his shoulders. "Don't you give up!" She shook him. "Come back! Your people need you." She slapped his cheeks then shook him again. "I need you." A sob escaped her, followed by another, then another. "Please, don't leave me." Tears rolled down her face unchecked and splashed on his chest. Unable to control her sorrow, she pressed her face into the side of his neck, wrapped her arms around him, and cried. She called to him. Even hidden away in this safe place where the pain couldn't touch him, Morgan could hear her. She pulled him back from the white void that enveloped him, that promised him peace. He didn't want to go back. He was safe here, but she kept begging him to come back to her, kept telling him that she needed him. No one truly needed him. His people would survive without him. The rebellion would go on. He was nothing here, a slave abandoned to his fate. Better to die now. The white void beckoned. He turned and moved toward it. "Please, don't leave me." Her agony tore through him, making him look back. A vibrant pink thread, so beautiful, so full of life, jabbed at the barrier between

consciousness and the void trying to break through. Who was she? Why wouldn't she just let him go? And what was that thing? Did it really matter? It's safe here. He turned away, moving toward the void. Coward. The thought stilled him, making him look back just as the pink thread broke through the barrier. It snaked toward him. He backed away, ready to leap into the void, then he remembered. Ariana. She was a part of him, a part of his soul. Could he leave her? No. But how could he get back? The thread? It had helped him once before, hadn't it? But how? He couldn't remember. Could he grab it? Morgan reached out. A weak purple thread appeared and tentatively moved toward the pink. But, did he really want to go back? The void called to him, telling him that it would keep him safe, that it would keep the pain and the nightmares at bay. As he glanced longingly at the void, the purple thread stilled. "Morgan, come back to me. Please." With a final look at the void, Morgan turned and reached out, this time with force. The thread leapt, entangling itself with the pink. As before, they knotted then smoothed into a single gold thread, but this time, the thread was thicker, stronger. It wouldn't break so easily again. The pain returned to him as the warmth of the bonding flooded through him, but it was worth it. She needed him. He opened his eyes and found her leaning over him, her eyes shimmering with tears. He wanted to comfort her but his arms were leaden and when he opened his mouth to speak, the words wouldn't come. "Morgan, what's wrong?" {Tired. So tired.} He never knew that a mental struggle could be so tiring to the body. A sigh escaped him as his eyes drifted shut, and he slipped into the oblivion of sleep. Dark as the night shadows that concealed him, Rico--the man known throughout the quadrant as the Magician's Right Hand--slipped from slave yard into the men's barracks. As he silently strode past the rows of double bunks, the sounds of deep breathing, of snores in different cadences and pitches, mumbles of men caught in dreams, assaulted his sensitive hearing. In the center of the barracks, he found the man he sought. Tossing back

the hood of his cloak, he knelt and placed his hand over Chekron's mouth. Chekron stiffened, his eyes flying open. When Rico was certain Chekron recognized him, he removed his hand and nodded his head toward the showers. They needed to talk without waking the others. Shaking his head, Chekron pointed to his useless legs. His braces lay deactivated at the foot of his bunk. Taking his hand, Rico pulled Chekron out of the bunk and easily hefted him over his shoulder. Leaving a hand free to reach the weapon tucked in his belt, he carried Chekron to the showers. When he reached the furthest corner, he set Chekron on his feet then slowly lowered him to the floor. "Rico, what are you doing here?" Chekron whispered. "Business," he whispered back, crouching beside him. Chekron was the last of the base contacts he needed to see. He reached into one of the deep pockets hidden inside his cloak and withdrew a half-meter long cylinder. He uncapped it and dumped the contents into Chekron's lap. "I don't understand." Chekron tightly gripped the leg braces in his hands. "I made these for you. They look the same as your old ones, but they have a few surprises." Rico touched a hidden button, and the braces activated, straightening out. The braces the Jotnar had given Chekron worked under the same principle as the magnetic shackles the slaves wore. They allowed him to work the mines during the day, but when the magnetic field was deactivated at night, Chekron lost use of his legs, leaving him a cripple. Rico had been shocked when he'd come last month to check in with his contacts and found Chekron in this condition. He'd wanted to take him out of here, but the man had stubbornly refused. Chekron felt he could better serve the Guild from inside, and while Rico agreed that it was an advantage having a man in the yard, he hated to leave Chekron here so vulnerable. The new braces would at least give him an edge the Jotnar didn't know about. "They can still deactivate them, but you can turn them back on. And, I've made them so they don't squeak when you walk. Very useful for a midnight escapade, don't you think?" "Very." Chekron grinned. "What does this do?" He found a button that only someone extremely familiar with the braces would have been able to spot. "Press it."

Chekron did, and a small knife leapt into his hand. He whistled softly. "The other one has a miniature laz-pistol. I have a feeling that you might be needing them." "Why?" "Someone very important was brought here a few days ago." "Morgan." His expression must have been comical, because Chekron grinned. "They made quite a fuss over him." Chekron looked thoughtful for a moment. "I guess the rumors of him being a Bellarissian prince are true." "They are. I'd like for you to look out for him for the next couple of weeks. Keep him out of trouble." "I'll do what I can, but I haven't seen him since Grader took a whip to him." Chekron strapped his new braces around his legs. He looked up then, his expression a combination of disgust and anger as he met Rico's gaze. "I've heard he's been in the administrator's quarters for the last two days. If that bitch claimed him like they said, I don't think she'll let him out of her bed, let alone send him back to the mines." Blast! "What else have you heard? Why did Grader whip him?" "Said he caught Morgan messing with his slave, but I don't believe it. More likely Vita messed with him and got caught." He sighed, shaking his head. "I think he would have been all right if Grader had let it go with the whipping, but he dragged him off to interrogation." Chekron shuddered, and Rico knew he was thinking about his own experience in there. An experience that he held Ariana Zoltan accountable for. One he didn't intend to let go unpunished. Clenching his jaw against his rising anger, Rico decided it was time to pay Grader a little visit. "I've got a few more things to take care of before I leave." He pulled himself to his feet, then gave Chekron a hand in standing. "Look after Morgan, and we'll be eternally grateful." The gratitude of both the Magician and his Right Hand was a powerful weapon to have--a weapon they didn't grant often or without care. "If that bitch does anything to him, I'll gladly wring her neck. I don't need any incentive to do it." The anger in Chekron's gaze told Rico he'd do exactly what he said. "Just tell me one thing. How in the name of the gods did they get their hands on him? I asked him myself, but he was pretty closed-mouthed about it." "Just between us?" He waited for Chekron's nod. "The Bellarissians have

ended their seclusion and agreed to help restore the Federation." "Gods be praised, the rumors are true," Chekron whispered. "What happened?" "Someone betrayed him. He was captured leaving a meeting on Tellari." A meeting Rico himself had attended in secret. Blast! If only he'd waited a few moments longer before slipping away, he might have been able to help. "Do you know who it was? Who betrayed him?" Chekron's fingers twitched like they were itching to strangle the traitor. Rico shook his head. "The Magician has offered a king's fortune for him." He'd pay that and more for the slime that betrayed Morgan--and likely betrayed his Right Hand as well. It had to be the same man--or woman--but who? Who knew them both that well yet was willing to betray them? Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside. He had more pressing things to consider right now. They talked quietly for a few minutes more, then walked backed to Chekron's bunk. After quietly gathering up the old braces, Rico saluted him then slipped out of the barracks as silently as he'd entered. Getting out of the fenced-in slave yard and across the compound to Grader's dwelling was ridiculously easy, and with the help of his universal key, so was getting inside. The soft lavender light from the half-moon illuminated the living area and its lavish furnishings. Gaudy. He couldn't help shaking his head in disgust as he crept past the dining table and saw the huge throne-like chair sitting beside it. Delusions of greatness. He paused at the bedroom door, just out of the range of the opener. Beyond this door slept the man that had beaten and tortured Bellariss' future king--the brother of his heart. Taking a deep breath, Rico forced himself to unclench his fists and release his anger. He'd discovered early in his profession that anger lead to stupid mistakes. Killing Grader would be a stupid mistake. Now was not the time. If something happened during the invasion, however, and the man ended up dead, well... frak happens. Such was the price of war. Rico stepped forward. The bedroom door slid open then whooshed closed behind him, sealing him in darkness. He stilled, waiting for his eyes to adjust while he listened for any sign that the room's occupant had

awoken. Hearing Grader's soft snore, he crept toward the large four-posted bed dominating the room. On the floor beside the bed, he noticed a slave pallet and a slender pair of pale feet. He jerked to a halt, his fists tightening, as he remembered that this slave was responsible for Morgan's beating. The urge to throttle her was almost too strong to resist as he moved to see her better. What he saw clenched his stomach in a tight knot as a fresh wave of fury crashed over him. Bastard! He glared at Grader, sleeping so peacefully in his large bed, while he forced this woman to sleep on a thin pad without the benefit of clothing or a blanket. With one arm shackled to the bedpost and the other wrapped tightly across her abdomen, her naked form lay exposed to his gaze. Dark patches--bruises--dotted her pale skin. She'd paid for her transgressions, heavily. If he found Morgan in this condition, there would be hell to pay. Grader and that Zoltan bitch would die, and to hell with the consequences. But first, it was time to see that Grader did some suffering of his own. Rico had picked up a lot of tricks during his exile, and this one he'd found to be very rewarding. He moved silently around to the other side of the bed, leaned over Grader, and whispered the words that would start the nightmares. Peaceful sleep was over for this bastard. His nightmares would haunt him for the rest of his days--what few there were. As he backed away, Grader started writhing on the bed, the covers rustling in his clenched fists. It had begun. "No. No," Grader mumbled in his sleep. "No, get away!" His hand fumbled under his pillow, and then he sat up, pointing a blaster at Rico. He swore silently, edging toward the door. It slid open when he neared. "I'll kill you." The words were slurred, telling him that Grader was still caught in the throes of the nightmare, but that blaster was no less deadly. Grader fired just as he leapt for the doorway. He rolled to his feet, ignoring the burning pain in his side, and ran for the exit, hoping to be gone before Grader came to his senses. Outside, keeping to the darkest shadows, he moved around the corner of the building and pressed his back against the cool plasteel wall. He listened, waiting for the intruder alarm to be raised, but instead heard

Grader yelling at his slave to "shut up and go back to sleep." Luck was with him. Grader believed it had all been part of the dream. A soft breeze chilled the blood dripping down his side, making the fiery pain worse. He sucked in a breath, pressing his hand against the wound, and willed the pain away. Curse that sadistic bastard! He would have to use a weapon that even the Jotnar had banned. Thank the gods Grader had only nicked him. A direct hit from a disruption blaster would punch a large hole right through a body, leaving the poor bastard to bleed to death in as little as a minute. Drek! He should have guessed Grader would be paranoid enough to sleep with a weapon under his pillow. He should have just set the dreams in motion and gotten the hell out of there, instead of lingering to watch his handiwork. Vanity is a sin. How many times had those words beaten into him, yet he still hadn't learned the lesson? Stupid. Worthless. Dark as sin and just as evil. Rico shook his head, forcing the taunts to the back of his mind. Now wasn't the time to fight his demons. He needed to check on Morgan, then get off this blasted planet before he bled to death. The blood was already soaking into the waistband of his pants, making the leather slick and cold. Drawing the hood of his cloak over his head, he glanced around the corner. Seeing no guards, he dashed across the twenty meters of open space between him and the next dwelling and pressed his back against the wall. Catching his breath, he gripped his aching side and listened for a sign that he'd been spotted. He heard nothing. The guard quarters were on the other side of the compound, and according to his contacts, there were only two guards patrolling the compound on any given night. If he got inside before they passed by him, he should be all right. Pulling out his universal key, he crept around to the door and swept it over the palm-lock. The lock clicked barely a moment later, and the door slid open. This dwelling was laid out the same as Grader's, so he wasted no time examining the furnishings. Instead, he strode right to the bedroom. He steeled himself against what he might find and slipped into the dark

room. On the pallet where he expected to find Morgan, he found Ariana Zoltan, fast asleep. Why? Shaking his head in wonder, he moved to the other side of the bed. Morgan lay nestled on his side in a heap of pink satin sleeping peaceful as a baby. He grinned, thinking Ugly didn't look so ugly now, all swaddled in pink. He half expected Morgan to sit up and growl, "Watch it, Runt!" as he usually did. Morgan rolled over, a grimace of pain crossing his features. Rico's grin faded. As if painted in neon, the lash marks crisscrossing Morgan's back glared at him. Most were the bright pink of newly healed flesh, but there were a few still heavily scabbed, that even now beaded up with blood from his movement. Fury welled up within him, his fingers tightening into fists. That bastard was going to die, now, and if he found out that she had anything to do with this, she'd die too. A quiet musical voice called out to him. Rico cringed at the mental intrusion, but he didn't experience the pain or the disorientating madness that normally followed a mind touch. That surprised him. The voice soothed his anger, drawing him back to the other side of the bed. As he neared her, he saw a glow coming from the hand she had pressed to her cheek. When he recognized the source of the glow, he stopped and his mouth dropped open in confusion. Only the pure of heart could bring a crystal entity to life. Ariana Zoltan hardly fit his description of pure. The glow pulsed, and the sing-song voice in his head called him closer. {Look.} As he watched, Ariana was swathed in a pink glow. From her breast rose a thin pink thread, spiraling up only to arc toward the bed. He turned his gaze to follow it and saw Morgan lying there swathed in purple. A similar thread rose from him and headed for the pink. The threads tangled, flashing so bright that Rico had to cover his eyes. When he lowered his arm, he saw a single gold thread, and then it disappeared. He shook his head, not believing what the crystal was trying to tell him. "Why did you show me that?" he whispered. Strange things happened to him. He was used to that, so the fact that this crystal spoke to him didn't surprise him. What he didn't understand was how Ariana Zoltan had managed to form a link with one.

{She will not harm him. They are one.} No! Morgan couldn't be bonded to that--that slaver! Rico stumbled back and was hit by a wave of dizziness. He grabbed the bedpost to steady himself and took a deep breath. Grader's blaster must have taken a bigger chunk of him than he thought. He had to take care of his wound, now, or they'd find him passed out on the floor. The sani-chamber door was only two meters in front of him. He'd raid her medkit, then decide what to do about them and their blasted bond.

Chapter 6 The moment the sani-chamber door closed, Ariana leapt to her feet. Goddess above! The Magician's in her dwelling. She'd never seen him before, but the man who'd stood hovering over her for the last several minutes had definitely fit his description--huge, dressed in black, cloaked to disguise his features. She needed help. Yes, she had defense training, but she didn't know how much good it would be against the best assassin in the galaxy. Why, he'd taken out Mandek, who was the best until the Magician killed him. She needed real help. She instantly thought of Morgan, then remembered that she'd given him a sedative to keep him from rolling around in his sleep. Even if she hadn't, he'd be too weak to fight a man that large. Could she get into the other room and reach the com before he heard her? Probably not. What about a weapon? Frantically, she glanced around the room and saw nothing but statuettes. The thought of facing an assassin that even the Prime feared with nothing but a delicate figurine brought a bubble of hysterical laughter to her throat. She could try throwing one at him but, even if she managed to hit him, none of them were heavy enough to stop a man his size. As precious moments passed while she tried to decide what to do, she realized that there was something odd about this assassination--if that's what it was. As he'd stood over her, she'd prayed that he couldn't see how badly she trembled, and had kept her eyes tightly shut. Instead of killing her as she expected, he'd staggered back, then stumbled his way to the sani-chamber. What if she hadn't been the target at all?

Morgan! She whirled toward the bed and saw blood smeared on the bed curtains. Oh, goddess, he killed him! Tears filled her eyes as she rushed to Morgan's side. Instead of finding him lying in a pool of blood, she found him sleeping peacefully on his stomach. Confused, she backed away and faced the sani-chamber door. If the Magician wasn't here to kill them, then why was he here? And, what was he doing in there? There was only one way to find out--she'd ask him. But first, she'd see if her crystal could tell her anything. Ariana walked to the door and put out her hand, letting it hover just out of the range of the sensor. Finding that he meant them no harm didn't surprise her as much as it should have. Finding that he'd been hurt did. The intruder alarms hadn't been sounded, and they would have if he'd run into one of her sentries. Lowering her hand, she bolstered her courage and strode into the chamber. Faster than she could blink, the bare-chested man dropped the antiseptic spray he held, drew his blaster, and pointed it at her. She gasped in surprise, her hand flying to her heart. "Rico!" The black tattoo just below his right eye, a dagger thrust through the heart of a star, never failed to inspire a rush of fear whenever she saw it. It did so now, but relief that he wasn't the Magician quickly chased it away. Forcing her gaze to meet his, she dropped her hand and smiled. "I thought you were the Magician come to kill me." Her smile faded when she realized he wasn't going to lower the blaster. "And you were stupid enough to come in here anyway?" The pistol wavered in his hand, drooping slightly. For the first time, Ariana noticed the bloody gash in his side. "Let me help you." She took a step toward him. The blaster lifted. Stubborn man! "Look," she raised her hands in a placating gesture, "I know you don't like me, but considering who you work for, don't you think you're being just a bit judgmental?" "He's not a Jotnar slaver," Rico ground out, practically spitting that last word. Her sudden anger got the better of her good sense. "No, he's not." She propped her hands on her hips. "He's an extravagantly paid assassin." He stiffened. "Not anymore."

"Your right," she nodded, "he's got cronies like you and the criminals protected by the Guild to do his dirty work for him." Ariana suddenly found the barrel of the blaster pointed between her eyes. Stupid! What in the name of Sheena did she think she was doing? Angering a man with a blaster pointed at her wasn't exactly a brilliant thing to do. Her heart pounded with fright so badly that she said the first thing that came to mind. "I admire him." Rico blinked, and she saw his confusion. Slowly, she reached up and wrapped her fingers around his shaking hand, praying his trigger finger didn't twitch. "I admire him for creating the Guild." He let her lower his hand an inch. "I admire him for installing that remarkable code of ethics." The blaster lowered to her chest. "And I admire all of you for standing up to the Jotnar." Like I dream of doing. Swearing, Rico set his blaster on the counter out of her reach, but well within his, and leaned forward against the counter. Turning his head slightly, he glared at from the corner of his eye. "I don't want to like you." "I don't blame you." She reached for a towel and pressed it against the dripping gash. "I am nothing but a Jotnar slaver. It doesn't matter that I had no choice in what I became." He turned his away from her. "Niki wouldn't care for you so much if you were as bad as all that." "I could say the same thing about you." She reached into the med-kit for the miniature healing lamp. "But I don't think you'd appreciate it." He released a disgusted snort, but his emotional pain seemed to ease just a bit. Ariana shook her head, admonishing herself for not being able to see past the mark on his face before now. Now she saw too much. She saw the tortured look in his eyes and knew she wasn't prepared to delve deep enough to discover why it was there. She also knew he wouldn't want her to. Sighing, she set herself to work on stopping the bleeding. To keep his mind off what she was doing, she decided to ask something that was puzzling her. "Since you're not here to kill me, why are you here?"

"I was going to kill you," he whispered. Her hand stilled, her heart skipping a beat. She flicked off the lamp and dropped it back into the kit. "Why didn't you?" Rather than meet his gaze while she waited for his answer, she grabbed a fresh towel and wet it in the basin. When she knelt beside him and began cleansing away the blood, he grasped her hand. "Your crystal stopped me. It showed me the bond that links you to Morgan." Ariana gasped. "My crystal spoke to you?" Rico nodded. It only showed her colors, yet it spoke to him. Why? She glanced down at her hand, but the crystal remained clear. And why had something as insignificant as a crystal stopped him from completing his mission? "I don't understand." Realizing she'd just spoken that thought aloud, Ariana flinched, jerking her hand back. What was she trying to do? Change his mind? "What don't you understand? I can't kill you, not without hurting him in the process." Ariana shook her head. Insane, that's what she was, stark raving insane. What else would you call a woman who tended a wanted man's wounds while they calmly discussed why he hadn't killed her? "I'm insane," she whispered. Ignoring his soft chuckle, she looked for traces of more blood. Eyeing his waistband critically, she slipped her finger inside it and found his skin sticky. "I need you to lower your pants a bit." Goddess help her if Nikita ever found out she'd said that. Rico had once belonged to her, and unlike other Cantaran women, they'd never shared their men. He unfastened his pants and let them drop only as far as modesty would allow. Even so, she blushed over the amount of hip and buttock that was exposed. She knelt, forcing herself back to her task. Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth to question him further and gasped, startled by what she uncovered--a white crescent-shaped scar glaringly visible in the golden skin on his hip. "You're the one," she whispered. Goddess above, why hadn't she seen it before? Nikita had always been so protective of her relationship with him, even after the two of them had gone their separate ways.

"What did you say?" Rico yanked up his pants and stepped away from her. Standing, Ariana met his wary gaze. "Are you going to take him?" She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, praying he'd say no even though she knew it would be for the best. "No." She gasped, and indignation on Morgan's behalf got the better of her. "What kind of friend are you?" Rico stiffened, his face darkening. "Do you think I want to leave him here? I don't!" He turned away from her, but not before she saw his anguished expression. "It sickens me to think about what he must have already suffered, about what he'll suffer when I've gone." "He won't suffer anymore," she said, touching his shoulder. He didn't flinch away as she'd half-expected. "Thank you for caring for him." His voice was husky. "That must have hurt." He stiffened briefly then chuckled, turning to face her. "More than you'll ever know." His smile softened his features, letting her see how devastatingly handsome he was despite the tattoo that marred his face. She grinned back, thinking that Bellarissian men were definitely a gift from the goddess. Her grin faded as she remembered that the gift sleeping in the other room had to be returned. "I can't keep him. If you can't take him with you, I'll have to find a way to get him home myself." "What about the bond?" She smiled, shaking her head. "I stopped believing in Bellarissian fairy tales long ago." The dreams that had sustained her as a child had quickly been destroyed by the reality of her Jotnar education. "Bonding isn't a fairy tale. Our souls were split into two halves during the creation. Bellarissian men feel the loss of their other half. Some spend lifetimes searching for the woman that will make them complete. Some bond with the wrong woman and spend an eternity in hell." "Are you searching for your other half?" She didn't know why she asked that, but for some reason, she had to know. Rico shook his head. "I have no soul." His calm, even tone shocked a gasp right out of her. "You actually believe that?" she asked, then realized that he did.

He shrugged. "What I believe isn't important, the bonding is. Binding yourself to someone mind, body, and soul isn't something to be entered into lightly. Gods, what was he thinking?" Stiffening, she glared at him. "I'm not some horrid monster! I'm trying to help him, not hurt him." "Oh, really? Then you're planning on going with him when you send him home?" That possibility flared and died with the passing of a second. "Of course not. I still owe ten years of service to the Jotnar. I can't walk away unscathed." She shook her head. "Even if I could just walk away, can you really imagine your people accepting a Jotnar officer in their midst?" His startled expression showed her that he obviously hadn't thought of that possibility. "Gods, Morgan," he whispered. "What have you done?" "Morgan will be all right," Ariana insisted, needing to hear the words. He broke the bond before. He could do it again and get on with his life. She, on the other hand, had a feeling she'd never be the same. The emptiness she'd felt in the med-center was still too fresh in her mind. "He has to go home. Are you sure you can't take him?" Rico shook his head. "What about the Magician? Could I hire him to do it?" Again, he shook his head. Before she could question his answer, her entrance chime sounded, followed by insistent pounding on the door. "Stay here." She slipped out of the sani-chamber and ran to answer the summons before they woke Morgan. She found the two night sentries standing on her threshold. "What is it?" "We found blood outside. For your safety, we would like to search your quarters for an intruder." "Don't be ridiculous," she said, using her haughtiest tone. "An intruder couldn't possibly have gotten past my palm lock." "You're sure?" She nodded, knowing blasted well that the intruder had gotten past her lock, and that if he'd meant to kill her, their rescue would have arrived far too late. "Sweep the compound, then send me a report of your findings in the morning." She closed the door in their faces, leaving no further room for

discussion, and ran back to the sani-chamber. Rico was gone. His shirt, his cloak, his blaster, even the bloody towels were gone. But, he'd left something behind--a gold coin, the calling card of the Magician. It was the most erotic dream Ariana ever had. She knew that it was only a dream, a dream she prayed would never end because reality had never been like this. His warm, naked body pressed intimately against her as his hands roamed her body, rousing a passion in her so intense that she writhed in need. His fingers slipped down between her thighs, his thumb immediately finding the little nub that gave so much pleasure. She gasped, the heat in her belly flaring, as a wave of pleasure rushed through her. A finger slid between her slick folds then slipped inside her. She cried out, startling herself awake. Panting, she looked into sleepy, passion-filled eyes and realized two things--Morgan had been caught in the dream with her, and his finger was actually inside her. What would he do? Unable to resist, even though she knew she was invading his privacy, Ariana let his emotions fill her. Morgan raised up on his elbow to stare down at her, and felt a moment of confusion, then uncertainty overshadowed the fire raging through him. Oh goddess, he's going to stop. "Please, I need you," she begged, grabbing his hand before he could pull it away. She thrust her hips, plunging his finger deep inside her. Pleasure jolted through her, stealing a gasp from her lips. His groan whispered into her mind as his eyes clenched shut, his face tightening in pain. When he opened his eyes again, they blazed with the flames of desire. Ignoring her body's cry of protest, Ariana pulled away, pushing him onto his back, and rolled onto her knees. The heat of his gaze scorched every inch of skin she exposed as she raised her shift up and over her head. By the time his gaze again reached hers, she trembled with the need to touch and be touched. Goddess help her, she'd never needed a man as badly as she needed him. Wanting to stroke the hard, golden body she now knew almost as well as her own, she touched his thigh. His muscles twitched beneath her palm as she ran her hand over the silky skin of his hip, and up his side. His jaw clenched, his fingers curled into tight fists, but he didn't move.

What was wrong with him? She knew he wanted her, but something held him back. She could feel the battle raging through him as he fought against his need. Had he changed his mind? It was too late now. He couldn't arouse her to the point of pain and then leave her this way. "I want you," she whispered, trailing her fingers across his chest. She circled his nipple, feeling it tighten beneath her finger. Morgan inhaled, his body going rigid. She could feel his resolve weakening, his desire pushing him to the point of no return. Just a little more.... "I want to feel you deep inside me." She lightly scraped her nails down his abdomen. "I want you to quench the fire burning within me." Her fingers curled around him. Inhaling sharply, he grabbed her hand and yanked it up, holding it prisoner against the hard plane of his abdomen. His chest heaved as he stared into her eyes, his expression pleading. What am I doing? She needed him, yes, but not like this. She rubbed a trembling hand over the tight, burning pain in her belly, willing it away. She couldn't do this, no matter how bad she ached. She pulled her hand free of his grasp and grabbed her robe. She had to get away from him, now, before her Cantaran blood overwhelmed her. "I'm sorry." She jabbed her arms into her sleeves. "I promised myself that whatever happened between us would be by your choice. I just didn't expect that dream." An image of the dream flashed before her eyes, intensifying her desire, intensifying her pain. Biting back a strangled moan, she leapt to her feet, forcing her trembling legs to hold her. "I need a cold shower. No--the vapor chamber." Goddess above, she couldn't even think straight anymore. She had to go now! She'd barely gotten past the foot of the bed when Morgan grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. He crushed her in his embrace, his lips devouring hers hungrily. His overwhelming desire for her all but stamped out the doubts plaguing him. Nothing mattered but the feel of her in his arms. He tore his lips away from hers, panting into her silky chestnut hair. {Gods, I need you,} he whispered into her mind. "Yes." Passion darkened her emerald eyes into a deep hunter-green. Taking his face between her hands, she pulled him into another kiss. Her tongue slid across his lips, sending a tremor running through him. The second stroke parted them. Immediately darting into his mouth, her tongue searched for his. Gods, she tasted sweet. Their tongues met,

stroked, teased, until both of them were trembling. Then her lips wrapped around his tongue, sucking gently. He groaned silently into her throat. Sweet heavens, the woman could kiss. Her nails scraped across his scalp as she moved her hands down to grab his shoulders. Morgan broke the kiss, sliding his lips down her neck, inhaling the scent that clung to her skin. Wildflowers and spice, he'd never forget it. When he reached the hollow of her throat, she moaned. He darted out his tongue to stroke the sensitive spot as he slid his fingers up to her ribs and used his thumbs to stimulate her nipples into tight little beads. Gasping, she dropped her head back. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he trailed kisses down the open neck of her robe to the soft ivory flesh of her cleavage. So soft. Everything about her was soft, her hair, her skin, her lips. He didn't think he'd ever tire of touching her, of sliding his fingers over her lush curves, through her silky hair. He dropped his hands to her hips, pressing her satin-clad belly against his throbbing erection. She moaned, grinding her hips into him. Ah, gods, he'd never get tired of that! Ariana writhed in his arms, her nails scraping and scratching as her hands roamed his body in a wild frenzy. She nearly tore her robe in her haste to get it off. When Morgan toppled her on her back, she spread her legs wide and grabbed hold of him, guiding him into her hot, wet center. He thrust deep, groaning as he finally became one with her in body as well as spirit. Heaven help him, he'd never felt like this before, like he'd come home. He reveled in the sound of her gasp, in the tremor that ran through her body, making her muscles clench tightly around him. Then, reality intruded as his abused back rebelled against the strain. He bit back a gasp of pain and rolled off her. Not ready for this. "What's wrong?" Instead of answering her frustrated cry, he pulled her to straddle his hips and impaled her onto his hard flesh. He inhaled sharply, his eyes closing as he savored the erotic feel of her inner muscles squeezing and tugging. Her hips straining against his hold, Ariana released a pained whimper, prompting him to guide her into motion. That only lasted a few seconds before she brushed his hands aside and took control, setting her own

rhythm. She experimented on him, wringing all manner of gasps and groans from him, until he thought he'd go crazy. Dear gods, he was ready, but he didn't want to go alone. He grabbed her hips, forcing her to pick up the pace until her need was as powerful as his, then slipped his hand between their joined bodies and rubbed his thumb over her nub. Emitting a startled cry, she arched above him, her head falling back. Her muscles convulsed tightly around him, pulling him deeper. The erotic sensation sent Morgan into an instant release so powerful he could do nothing more than lie there and gasp for breath while it carried him away. Panting, she rolled off him, sprawling onto her back. Her lips curled into a triumphant smile as a long, satisfied sigh slipped through her lips. Her departure disappointed him more than he cared to admit. He'd wanted to hold her soft body in his arms, hearts pressed together, as their breathing slowly returned to normal. He couldn't help the bitterness he felt because she'd denied him that. No, blast it, it was more than that! He thought she'd be different than the others, but she wasn't. She was worse, and it was his own blasted fault. He'd given her an advantage the other women hadn't had, because he'd been stupid enough to bond with her. "Morgan?" Her fingers threaded into his hair. Unable to bear her touch, he jerked away, propelling himself from the bed. {You won.} "What did you say?" He ignored her, spotting a stack of clothing on the chair by the window. He grabbed a pair of coveralls from the stack and ripped open the fasteners. "What's wrong with you?" The anger in her tone rose as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Morgan jerked his gaze away from her, refusing to watch her wrap her lush body in the silky sheet, and yanked the coveralls up his legs. Gods, she was something else, pretending innocence while she tore his heart to shreds. Your choice, she'd said. Blast! He was such a gullible idiot! She'd chosen her words well, knowing exactly what to say to pierce through his weakening control.

And she knew just what to do. She had him panting after her like some lust-crazed animal. Even now, his body demanded that he turn and let his eyes drink their fill of her. The thought of her having that much control over him made him sick. Drek! At least the others had been honest about what they wanted. They hadn't pried into his thoughts and feelings, finding his vulnerabilities and using them against him. They hadn't called him back to the living, making him fall in love with them, only to make him wish he were dead. Morgan's whole body trembled with rage, and he cursed his shaking fingers as they fumbled with the fastener at his waist for the third time. Oh, how he wished he had it to do over again. But it was too late now. Too late. When they'd joined, the bond between them had been forged stronger than the thickest ditatium steel. He was bound to her for the rest of his miserable life. "Morgan, answer me!" She grabbed his arm, yanking him around to face her. She glared up at him, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, pulling his gaze to where the sheet tucked between them. Morgan jerked his stare away, cursing himself for succumbing to the lure of her charms yet again. She wanted to play innocent? Fine. He'd spell it out for her in words even a simpleton would understand. {The game's over. You won.}

Chapter 7 "What game?" Ariana asked through clenched teeth. Goddess above! How could the man take her up to the heavens one minute, and be so infuriating the next? He looked down at her as if she were some simpleton who couldn't understand plain Basic. {You drekked the Bellarissian crown prince without having to drug him first. That was the objective, wasn't it? At a hundred credits per attempt, you've won yourself quite a purse.} Ariana slapped him, hard. "How can you accuse me of such a thing?" She shook her stinging hand. Then the import of his words got through to her self-righteous brain, filling her with horror. {Why shouldn't I?} Eyes blazing with fury, he ran his tongue under his lower lip and came up with blood. {You played the game like those Jotnar

whores did, only better, because you made me want you. Then you used me and rolled off, just like they did.} "That's not true! I tried to walk away. You wouldn't let me!" {Gods!} He turned away from her, jerking his fingers through his short hair. {What did I expect?} "Will you stop that? Talk to me!" She couldn't take his angry voice blaring through her mind another second. {I can't!} Ariana's mouth dropped open. No, it couldn't be true. Nikita had told her that his throat would be all right. They'd decided that they'd say his voice had been damaged anyway, to protect him. Hurting for him, wanting to give comfort, she reached out to him. Morgan stiffened and stepped away before her palm could graze his back. Oh, goddess, his back! There were scratches all over it. Some of them crossed the unhealed lash-marks, making them bleed. She'd done this to him. She'd hurt him. Morgan's head drooped. {You must be proud,} his mind whispered. {They couldn't break me, but gods help me, you've brought me to my knees.} As his pain washed over her, tears stung Ariana's eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I honestly thought my mixed blood had saved me from the curse." She sniffed, then wiped her watery eyes with a corner of the sheet. "If I'd known sleeping next to you would have that effect on me, I would have spent the night on the couch." {What curse?} He looked at her warily, obviously skeptical yet perhaps willing to listen. "Do you know why they call us Cantaran sluts?" When he shook his head, she took a deep breath and continued before she lost her nerve. "Something happens to a Cantaran woman when she gets aroused. A fiery pain starts to build deep inside her belly and grows until it gets so bad, she'll do anything for relief, even rape." Arousing a man to the point where he could no longer resist, no longer had a choice, was rape. Ariana didn't care what the others called it, but now she understood what drove them to it. She'd just done it herself, despite her noble intentions, and the knowledge filled her with shame. Suddenly, she couldn't bear to look at him and turned away, hugging her middle. "I tried to walk away," she whispered, "but you stopped me."

Morgan's warm hand touched her shoulder. {The pain wouldn't have left you, would it?} Ariana shook her head. There were ways to ease it but it wouldn't abate without finding release with a man deep inside her. Some women liked the pain, letting it build slowly for days, bit by bit, with touching, teasing, petting, until their needs were explosive, then they raped a man. It made them feel powerful. They were the ones that gave all Cantaran women that horrible name. And Ariana worried that she might be one of them. With Morgan's hand on her shoulder, so near the breast he'd caressed earlier, the warmth was already starting to spread through her belly. Morgan sucked in a breath, letting his hand fall away, and she realized that he felt it too. "Nothing like that ever happened to me before. I didn't realize what it was until it was too late. If you hadn't grabbed my hand when you did--" Ariana turned to face him. "I'm sorry. If I'd known you were past the point of choice, I would have kept walking." Morgan wanted to believe her, but something still bothered him. {If that's true, then what about the last? Why did you leave me like that?} "What else should I have done? I don't know any other way." She stroked her palm down his stubbled cheek. "I swear to you, I don't know anything about that game. I didn't even know your name until you bonded with me that first time." He remembered that. Her name had come to him as soon as the threads had touched. It was as if he'd become whole. He shook the ridiculous notion off. She wasn't his other half. It was the bond that made him feel that she was. Now he knew why the elders stressed about choosing carefully. He'd made the wrong choice, and now he'd have to pay for it the rest of his life. Being bound mind, body, and soul to a woman gave her a lot of power. In the hands of the wrong woman, that power could destroy a man. He wouldn't let her destroy him. He knew the only thing holding them together was the bond, and he wouldn't be fooled into thinking there was anything more to it. He repeated the words once more, trying to make himself believe them. "We discovered who you were in the med-center, when Nikita found your scar." Morgan's breath caught, choking him. Gods, the woman always knew just what to say to knock the wind right out of him. How could her friend know about the scar? It wasn't common knowledge. He'd almost believed her until she said that. Gods, she was good. So sincere. But he she'd seen

Grader's orders. His name had to have been on them somewhere. {Everyone else seems to know who I am. Why would they keep you ignorant?} Ariana's mouth tightened, her cheeks filling with color. "They know I deplore slavery. I was a bit too vocal about my feelings once, and they punished me by putting me in charge of this place." A woman who hates slavery, running a slave base? It was too incredible to believe. Maybe that's why he didn't. "Maybe they didn't trust my loyalty enough to let me know who you really were." There was more to it than she was saying, something that built an anger in her so intense that he could almost see it rolling off her in waves. {Why? What do they think you'd do?} "Help you escape," she replied without hesitation. "I'm going to, you know. I just have to find a way to do it that won't leave me as the only suspect." Astounded by her audacity, Morgan could only stare at her with his mouth open. She actually expected him to believe her. "I thought the Magician might be able to help, but Rico said he wouldn't. I wonder why?" She frowned, rubbing her chin. "Before I could ask him, he disappeared. How can a man leave without using a door or window?" Morgan's heart skipped a beat. Disappeared? Or transported out? {What did you say his name was?} "Your friend Rico. He was here last night." Morgan didn't know anyone named Rico. If it wasn't one of his people, who was it? His mind worked furiously at the puzzle while he watched Ariana go to her dresser. She fished through a jewelry case on top of it then returned to him with a gold object in her hand. "He left this behind. It's the calling card of the Magician." Ariana dropped it into his hand. "I still don't know how he did it.... " She kept talking, but Morgan wasn't listening anymore. His eyes were glued to the gold coin in his hand--a flipping coin, to be exact--the one he'd had minted for Drake. She pointed to his hand, yanking his attention back to her. {What did you say?}

"Haven't you been listening? I said that when I found the coin, I thought that Rico was the Magician-especially after he'd disappeared without a trace--but then I realized that this one was different. There's a little symbol on the back that isn't on the other coins we've seen." Their symbol, the one sealing their blood pact. Morgan's throat tightened as he remembered the night they'd designed it--the night he'd found Drake hiding in the palace gardens, all bruised and bloody. He'd promised Drake then that he'd never let Hastin hurt him again, that he'd protect him. He'd broken that promise. Ariana touched his arm, gazing up at him with eyes clouded with concern. "Are you all right?" Morgan clenched his fist around the coin. He had to know what this meant. Why was it left here? {Tell me what you know about Rico and the Magician.} Morgan sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. He'd been on the floor for an hour, staring out Ariana's office window, trying to absorb everything she'd told him this morning. So far, he'd come up with a lot of questions, but only one answer. He knew without a doubt that Drake was both Rico and the Magician. He could understand why Drake would take on a new identity--his painful past, his friendship with the royal heir, his ties to Bellariss. But why two identities? Ariana had told him that the Magician had several prices on his head for contracted killings, yet Rico wasn't wanted for anything and he was the Magician's henchman. According to her, there wasn't any proof that Rico wasn't exactly what he appeared--an errand boy. Perhaps that was the answer. Rico could come and go as he pleased under the protection of the Guild, while the Magician couldn't risk being seen. But, Drake, an assassin? Gods, he still didn't believe it. There had to be some other explanation. He didn't care what Ariana's file said, there was no way Drake could have killed all those people. But, no matter what Drake might have done, Morgan wouldn't risk his friend's life by telling anyone what he knew--especially Ariana. She might be trying to trick him somehow. If he hadn't caught a glimpse of Drake on Tellari, Morgan could easily think that this was all just an elaborate ruse created by the Jotnar to break through his defenses. He was smart to be cautious. How could he be sure she wasn't in league with the Jotnar? How could he be sure they hadn't cooked up some plot

against him, putting her right in the center of it? Oh, she talked pretty talk, said all the right things. But Morgan knew all too well that women could be just as treacherous as men, maybe more so. Ariana glanced at him from her desk, where she worked so studiously at her terminal. "Morgan, please, sit in a chair. There's no need for you to sit on the floor." He glanced at her wall chronometer. Four minutes early. She'd said that to him every quarter hour since he'd sat down. Sighing, he decided that he might as well do as she asked. His butt was getting numb, and he was getting tired of hearing her ask. When he'd finally settled himself in the chair a few feet from her desk, she smiled at him and went back to her work. He turned his gaze back to the window, and watched a skycar fly toward the city far on the horizon. They didn't use skycars on Bellariss any more, not since the transporters had been developed. Those transporters were going to win back the Federation from the Jotnar. Very soon, he supposed. He'd lost track of how long he'd been a captive. {What is the date?} "Juno two," she replied, not taking her eyes from her work. Morgan flinched. Nearly two months. That meant the first wave of invasions was only fourteen days away. Cantara was scheduled for the first wave. Perhaps his life wasn't forfeit after all. If he could keep himself alive for that long, he might just see his home again. He knew when he'd been taken that there was no hope of rescue. His mother couldn't risk the whole planet for the life of one man. Gods, how it must have hurt her to refuse their ransom demands, knowing they'd probably kill him. Morgan pulled the coin from his pocket and studied it. Had Drake left it to let him know that he wasn't alone? With the Magician's network of spies, Drake probably knew of the invasion plans. Maybe this was a sign that he wouldn't be forgotten during the rebellion. He tightened his fist around it. One thing was certain, this coin was glaring proof that he could have been rescued last night, and he'd been left behind. "Morgan, I think I found something." He turned his head to look at her just as her office door slid open and Grader strode in unannounced. Morgan hurled himself from the chair, intent on murder. When Grader caught sight of Morgan, his steps faltered. "You!" Ariana stepped in front of Morgan before he could reach Grader. It took

all his control to not shove her out of the way and pound the man senseless. "Don't you do it." She pressed her palms flat against Morgan's chest. "Go back and sit down. Now." {No.} He wasn't going to obey like a good little pupus. {I'm going to give him back some of what he gave me.} Ariana didn't move. {Don't side against me on this.} Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his coveralls. "Sit down, or I'll have you shackled," she hissed. Morgan flinched and pulled away from her, the momentary shock of her threat quickly turning to anger. His doubts about her had merit after all. She stared at him until he was seated, then turned her head and glared at Grader. "What are you doing in here?" "He's looking remarkably fit for someone who should be dead." "Isn't modern medicine wonderful?" Ariana's voice dripped with sarcasm. Grader rested his hand lightly on his side-arm and smiled. "Ah, yes. Your little doctor friend. Arneshton, wasn't it? I don't suppose the council knows she treated him in their med-center." "As a matter of fact, they do. Since she was following my orders, there wasn't anything they could do to her. Power does have its advantages." Morgan grinned at Grader, knowing it would infuriate him. He wasn't disappointed. {I'm going to strangle him.} Ariana shook her head and whispered, "Not in my office, you're not." Giving him a look that told him to stay put, she folded her arms and strode toward Grader. "Are you going to tell me why you've barged into my office, or do you plan to keep me in suspense?" "I just found out that the Magician's Right Hand is Draken Durand, his foster brother." He nodded at Morgan. Morgan stiffened, his fingers digging into the arms of the chair. She recognized the name. Gods, how much did the Jotnar know about them? "I guess we don't need him anymore. Not when we can get our hands on the creator of the Bellarissian defense grid." Morgan lurched to his feet. {He won't be able to help you. We've

changed it since he disappeared. Didn't your spies tell you that?} When Ariana glared at him, he knew she felt that he'd betrayed her by not telling her who Rico really was. Gods, what did she expect from him? "The Guild will never give him up," Ariana said. "For one-hundred thousand credits, his own father would give him up. As a matter of fact, he did." Grader laughed. "It's amazing what a man will give up to save his own skin." {No, Hastin's dead.} He wasn't buying this for a second. He pushed past Ariana, determined to beat the truth out of the lying son-of-a"Morgan!" The disruption blaster aimed at the center of his chest stopped him a pace short of his goal. If he jumped the little bastard now, and that blaster fired, no med-center in the galaxy would be able to save him. Grader grinned. "Well, don't give up now. I'd love to blast a hole in that hulking chest of yours." Morgan clenched his fists. It would almost be worth it. "No!" Ariana shoved herself between them. "Commander, holster that weapon. Morgan, go back to my dwelling, now!" She gave him a shove toward the door. Morgan's chest heaved with fury as he stood there and stared at the both of them. She'd sided against him with the man who'd almost killed him, and he wouldn't forget it. {This isn't finished,} he told her then turned and strode out of the office. No, it isn't finished. He'd wait right here in the corridor for Grader to come out, then he'd pound him senseless. Morgan leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest, and prepared to wait. "Here now, that's not where you're supposed to be." Blast her! She'd sent someone after him. Morgan turned toward the voice and saw a big, burly guard striding purposefully toward him. "Come on, I'll escort you to the administrator's quarters. Can't keep you out of trouble if you're out wandering around." Oh, you'd be surprised at the amount of trouble I can get into without wandering around, he thought, letting the guard lead him away. He needed to find a way to warn Drake that the Jotnar were on to him, and he had a feeling that Dr. Nikita Arneshton could help him to do it. But first, he had to find her. There was a computer terminal in Ariana's

quarters, and he intended to make use of it. Morgan glanced back at the office door one last time. It isn't over between us, Grader. Oh, no, it isn't over. I'll get even, one way or another. In the event of a rebellion, all captives are to be exterminated in order to eliminate additional threat to the Alliance. Stunned, Morgan stared at that line on the terminal screen for several minutes before he swore and flipped it off. What was he supposed to do about this? He'd been searching for information about Ariana's doctor friend. He'd found where she lived and worked, and then had stumbled onto the Jotnar regulations manual. He couldn't just sit back and wait for a rescue, not now. There were more than a hundred slaves here. He had to find a way to see them to safety before his people invaded. Gods, what about the other worlds? A total of ten slave worlds were slated for the first wave of invasions. When they'd planned this, the element of surprise had been factored in. They knew that with the speed and efficiency of their transporters, the suddenness of their attack would stun the unsuspecting Jotnar. But would it be long enough to neutralize the Jotnar's threat to the slaves? His military advisors had thought it would be, Morgan had thought it would be, but they hadn't known about the Jotnar fatal regulations. Now Morgan wasn't so sure surprise would be enough. With the neutrillium mines so close, just one quick-thinking guard could kill everyone on the base. Could his people neutralize the Jotnar before they realized what was happening? Before they started killing innocents? Could he take that chance? No, he couldn't. But what could he do? He was as much a prisoner here as they were. He obviously needed help. Drake supposedly had a lot of contacts. Maybe he could find a way to protect them, or at least be able to warn Boyan of the danger. You're assuming he'd be willing help you after the way you let him down. Shaking his head, Morgan sighed. Even if he didn't, he still needed to know about Hastin's betrayal and the new price on his head. Morgan couldn't do that sitting on his ass. He had to get to that doctor, and see if

she could contact Drake.

Chapter 8 Filled with trepidation about facing Morgan, Ariana paused in front of the door to her dwelling. She'd waited two hours before coming home, hoping it had been enough time to cool his anger. He'd been so furious with her when she'd sent him away, but what else could she have done? Let Grader kill him? And if he'd managed to kill Grader instead, his life would have been over. Now that the Jotnar didn't need him alive they wouldn't hesitate to kill him. Grader had been very clear about that. She'd done the right thing. Now, she just had to convince Morgan of that. While she was at it, she'd have to find a way to keep him far from Grader until she could arrange his escape. Squaring her shoulders, Ariana entered the dwelling and heard a soft peal of feminine laughter. She found Morgan and the slave girl Kari sharing a meal at her dining table. Kari's hand lay atop Morgan's. Goddess above! When she'd sent him here, she'd forgotten that Kari would be here. Morgan caught sight of her standing just inside the doorway. His smile remained, but his eyes glittered with contempt. Kari saw her and gasped, scrambling from her chair. "I beg pardon, mistress." Morgan grabbed Kari's shoulder and pressed her back down into her seat. He stared at Ariana, daring her to object. {She went to the trouble of preparing the meal. I thought it only fair that she share it.} Kari blushed and dropped her gaze to the hands gripped in her lap, but not before Ariana saw her pleased smile. Jealous anger ran rampant through Ariana as she realized that Kari had heard Morgan's mental explanation. What else had they shared? If they'd shared her bed, she'd kill them both. "Did you bond with her as well?" When Morgan merely raised an amused eyebrow, she wished she'd learned to keep better control over her loose tongue. Morgan chuckled, drawing her heated gaze. "Are you reading my thoughts now?" She glared at him. {No, but you should be careful not to direct your thoughts at me while you're thinking them. I keep seeing the most interesting images.}

Ariana glanced away, her cheeks filling with heat. It appeared that Kari hadn't shared that last thought. Thank the goddess. "Please, Mistress, sit down. I have a plate prepared for you." Kari gestured toward the empty place setting across from Morgan, then leapt to her feet to fetch the meal. As she passed Morgan, she flashed him a look of utter adoration. Ariana had to curl her nails into her palms to keep from slapping her. She should have had the girl reassigned the moment she'd realized that she was in love with him! Gritting her teeth, Ariana moved to her place and sat. She remembered when Kari had entered the bedroom and found Morgan that first day. The girl had prostrated herself at his side and wept as if time were coming to an end. {Be nice,} a warning voice whispered into her mind. Ariana stifled the urge to glare at him as Kari smiled shyly and set the aromatic plate in front of her. She had to admit, the girl could do wonders with replicated food. It smelled heavenly. Her stomach rumbled, urging her to grab her eating utensil and stab a bite. {She's half my age.} Startled, Ariana paused, utensil just reaching her parted lips. Was he trying to offer her assurance? Or excuses? "And that means what to me?" His nostrils flared as a flash of anger hit her. {Forget it. I don't owe you any explanations.} "Morgan--" Before she could apologize for her snappish behavior, he turned his head, cutting her off. From everything. She felt as if she'd suddenly been sealed inside a vacuum. Kari glanced nervously back and forth between them. "Perhaps I should go." She rose to her feet, her chair scraping lightly across the tile floor. Ariana nodded. "I think that would be best." {No! You can't send her back there.} Morgan gripped Kari's wrist, holding it possessively. Ariana stiffened. "She has to go back to the yard," she forced out. "I can't have a claim on two slaves. I'm pushing my authority by having her work in my house." Morgan's eyes turned pleading. {If you can only keep one slave, then

keep her. I'll go back to the yard.} "No!" both women cried. "I can't protect you in the yard," Ariana said, horrified that he'd even suggest such a thing. Morgan glanced at Kari thoughtfully, and Ariana knew that his next words would be meant only for her. {Ariana, she's only a child. She shouldn't have to go back there and choose a bed partner every night. She shouldn't have to lift her shift for every blasted guard that decides he wants a piece of her.} Kari whimpered, and Morgan quickly released his grip on her wrist. Ariana shook her head. It wasn't like that. She'd seen to it that the situation worked for all parties involved. "Surely it isn't that bad." {Not that bad?} His eyes flashed fire. {Gods, Ariana. You didn't have her begging you to bed her because she was afraid of who they'd choose.} The thought of this child asking Morgan to sleep with her made Ariana want to tear her hair out, yet at the same time, she was horrified that the girl thought she had to. Morgan reached across the table and grabbed Ariana's hands. {Please, I'm begging you, keep her here. I'll take my chances in the yard.} She had no other choice. His safety had to be her first priority. Jealousy had nothing to do with it! "I'm sorry." She shook her head. "She has to go back." {No, I'm sorry.} Morgan jerked away from her and stood, his gaze turning hardened and cold. {Sorry that I ever reached out to you, sorry that I was stupid enough to bond with you, sorry that I ever thought you human.} Ariana flinched with each word he'd spoke, each word a vicious blow to her heart. Morgan's chest heaved as he glared at her, but he kept his feelings to himself. {I'd rather bed down with Grader than spend another moment near you.} He turned and strode out the door. Tears burned at the back of her eyes as she stared at the closed door. Deep down, she knew he was right. She wasn't trying to protect him as much as she protecting herself from being hurt. Maybe that was why she didn't try to stop him. ~*~

Morgan didn't know where he was going. He didn't really care, as long as it was away from her. Gods, how could she claim to despise slavery yet think this situation was anything but bad? When he'd found Kari working in her quarters, he'd thought that she really cared what happened to the girl. Hadn't she tried to convince him that auctioning her off would be more humane--as if such a thing were possible? How could she be so unfeeling? And he'd begged her to help Kari. Begged her! And she'd refused, because she was so blasted afraid that he was going to drek any woman who sent a look of interest his way. The more time he spent with her, the clearer his situation became. She talked a pretty talk to get what she wanted, but that's all it was. Talk. He was nothing more than a possession to her, a bed toy that she didn't want to share, and because of that blasted bond, he only wanted her. Gods help him, he only wanted her. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Morgan jerked to a halt and glanced back. Gar, the guard she'd sent after him before, was hurrying to catch up with him. Curse that woman! {Did she send you after me?} Gar flinched, his eyes widening in surprise, then his lips curled up into a smile. "Ah, telepathic. He didn't tell me that." Morgan swore at himself for making the slip, but here was no help for it now. The damage was done. {Why would he know?} "Hmm...Considering how close he's supposed to be to you, I'd a thought he'd know a thing like that?" The guard's eyes twinkled with laughter. {You're not talking about Grader, are you?} He just grinned. Morgan decided he'd had enough of playing games for one day. {If you're here to take me back to her, you can forget it. I'll sleep under a grav-lift before I'll go crawling back to her bed.} Gar's expression lost its humor. "That bad, is she?" Morgan sighed. {Don't you have something to do?} "Mmm...I do, and it would be a lot easier if you weren't out wandering around." {I'm not going back. Not tonight.} "Well, I think we can figure out something about that, but for now, tell

me where you were going in such a hurry." {I don't know.} Morgan rubbed his hand over his face. {Somewhere away from her.} "You'll get further with an escort. Come on, let's go walk off some of that steam." Morgan grabbed Gar's arm before he could start walking. {How do I know you're not leading me into a trap?} He didn't exactly have a lot of friends in this place, and he wouldn't put it past Grader to set something up to see the job finished this time. "You have some powerful friends, Your Highness." Gar fished a hand into his pocket. "I'd rather blast off my own hand than cross one of them." He held out his hand, and there resting on his palm was a shiny gold coin--one of Drake's coins. {Can you get in touch with him?} If he could, part of Morgan's worries were over. Gar shook his head. "It's too risky. If he needs something, he contacts me." {Blast! I've got to talk to him.} Morgan dragged his fingers through his hair. Think, Morgan. Think! {Are you the only ally I have here?} "No, there are a few others." {Is there a way that we can all meet? I've got a big problem, and I need help with it, or a lot of people are going to die.} Gar's eyes widened then stared at Morgan thoughtfully for a moment, before he nodded. "I'll see what can arrange, but it won't be tonight." {It'll have to do. Thank you.} Gar nodded. "Let's go find you somewhere to bed down for the night." "Morgan!" They turned toward the hushed call and saw Chekron crouched beside the yard fence. "Go on," Gar said. "I'll keep watch." Morgan nodded and headed over to Chekron. Chekron smiled at Morgan as he knelt on the opposite side of the fence. "You all right? You didn't look that great the last time I saw you." Morgan shrugged and pulled down his collar, exposing the bright pink scar Grader's whip had left on his neck.

Chekron whistled low. "Can't talk, huh?" Morgan shrugged again. With his finger, he scratched in the dirt, Telepathic. Bother you? Chekron shrugged, an amused look on his face. Most people weren't bothered by telepathic speech, yet there was always that chance. He whispered Chekron's name into his mind and was disappointed to see him grab his head and fall back. "I guess it does," Chekron groaned. He shook his head as if to clear it. "That packed quite a punch." Sorry, Morgan scratched in the dirt. Chekron shrugged. "She treating you all right?" An image of her astraddle him with her head thrown back instantly popped into his mind, followed by one of her rolling off triumphant. He shook them away. Doesn't matter, he scratched, then shrugged when Chekron met his gaze. Chekron's face hardened with anger. "It matters, very much, to a lot of people." Morgan shrugged again. He smoothed out the dirt then scratched, Can I trust him? He glanced at Gar, who stood a short distance away, with his back to them. Morgan felt he could but needed to make sure. Chekron stared at him a long moment. "Shouldn't you be asking if you can trust me?" Irritation growing, Morgan glared at him. Blast! No more games. He made the sign of the Federation, then pointed at Chekron. If it hadn't been intended as a sign of friendship, then Chekron shouldn't have made it the other day. After swiping his words from the dirt with his hand, Morgan stood and turned to walk away. "Morgan, wait." Chekron's arm reached through the bars and grabbed his sleeve. "I am your friend, but you can't be too careful. There are spies everywhere, even among the slaves." Morgan nodded stiffly. He knew blasted well that he couldn't trust everyone, but his instincts told him that he could trust Chekron, and his instincts had never been wrong. Not about men anyway. "You can trust Gar. He's Guild." Chekron yanked up his sleeve to reveal a small black triangular tattoo on his forearm, just near the bend in his elbow. "I'm Guild too."

Morgan's mouth dropped open in shock. That couldn't be what he thought it was. He bent for a closer look. Gods, it was. He formed a triangle with his thumbs and index fingers then linked his middle fingers together. Chekron flinched and gripped the fence. "How did you know?" Morgan sighed, rubbing his temple, then opened the front of his coveralls. He pressed his palm against the bare skin over his heart then held it there for several seconds. Judging by Chekron's shocked gasp, his hidden tattoo had appeared--a blood red triangle with a link across the center--the same tattoo that graced Chekron's arm. It quickly faded back into his skin. As he refastened his coveralls, Morgan realized that if he'd had any doubts before about Drake's alternate identities, they were gone now. Their blood brother symbol had become the symbol of the Guild. "Gods above," Chekron whispered, staring at Morgan's chest as if he'd just seen a miracle. "No wonder the Magician offered such a high reward for the man who betrayed you. It's personal to him." It's personal to me too. He prayed he'd be able to get his hands on Hastin. If Hastin hadn't been killed when the Jotnar boarded his ship, then what about Galen? Was there a chance Galen still lived despite what he'd seen? How could he find out? A frustrated sigh escaped through his teeth as he dragged his fingers through his hair. Blast, he felt so helpless. Hearing the sound of boots shuffling in the dirt, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Gar walking toward them. "Morgan, we've got to get going." Gar nodded to Chekron. "My bunkmate is on sentry duty tonight, so you can sleep in his bunk." Morgan gave Chekron a nod of farewell, and turned to follow Gar. "Morgan," Chekron called out. "You can trust me." Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Chekron go down on his knee, his fist crossing his chest in the federation sign, pledging his allegiance. Morgan bowed his head, accepting Chekron's pledge, and smiled. {I knew that I could,} he whispered gently into Chekron's mind. Chekron flinched, rubbing his temple, then saluted them and walked jauntily away. Was it his imagination, or was Chekron's stride a bit more fluid than it should be for a crippled man wearing braces? He shook his head, deciding

that it wasn't important. What was important was the fact that his reaction to the telepathy wasn't as strong this time. Perhaps he could gradually get used to it. Certainly would make things simpler. "He always was one for dramatics." Gar chuckled. "Change your mind about going back?" Morgan shook his head. He did want to go back, gods help him, but he wouldn't. "All right. It's this way." Gar led him to the other end of the compound and pointed to a long building split up into individual quarters. "I'll get you settled in, and then I'll let her know where you are." He nodded, wishing Gar wouldn't, but knew that if he didn't, she'd probably have the whole place up in arms searching for him. Gar stopped at a door near the end of the building and showed him inside. The narrow white room was sparsely furnished--two cots, two chairs, two lockers--but it had its own sanitary and a small entertainment system that Gar promptly told him played only Jotnar propaganda. After pointing out which bunk was Morgan's for the night, Gar slipped out to report to Ariana. Morgan sat on the cot then sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. There were days he really regretted getting out of bed. This day certainly qualified as one of them, he thought as he reached down to unfasten his boots and yank them off. After he slid them under the bed, he shrugged out of the top half of his coveralls and let it hang from his loosened waistband. Lying back, he tucked his arm under his head, crossed his feet at the ankles, and stared at the blaster burn scorched on the white ceiling. He'd been staring at that burn for a few minutes, trying to convince himself that he'd done the right thing by walking out on her, that he needed to know how far he could push her, when Gar came back in. "She wants me to bring you back first thing in the morning." Morgan nodded, keeping his gaze on the ceiling. The light turned off, leaving the room dark except for the dim light streaming through the cracks in the window shade. He heard fabric rustling as Gar shrugged out of his uniform, then the cot squeak as the man settled his considerable bulk in for the night. "She looked like she'd been crying," Gar whispered. "And that little slave girl was sleeping on her couch. Thought you might want to know." The cot springs protested as he rolled over.

The god of hearts has a demented sense of humor, Morgan thought, rubbing his chest, trying to ease the pain that had suddenly lodged there. How else could he explain being so taken with a woman that had to be shamed into doing the right thing? Who actually believed that he'd joined with that child in the bed they'd shared only that morning? Her jealous assumption only served to prove to him, once and for all, that what happened between them had meant nothing to her. An easing of her pain, nothing more. Gods help him, he felt empty and alone. His entire being ached to be near her, to hold her in his arms and feel her heart beating against his. Even now, after all that had happened, he wanted to join with her, to have her sleek legs wrapped around him, her soft body coaxing him deeper. Gods help me! Morgan thought, clenching his fists tightly. She wanted him too. He could feel her desire calling to him, could feel the fire simmering within her. Why did he feel it? Was it because of the bond? He forced it all away, swearing that he wouldn't go to her. He was nothing but property to her, a possession. If she was crying now, it was only because he wasn't there to see to her needs. He could bear the pain of their separation for one night. He had to. If he still lived when this was all over, he would go home, and this burning pain would be a part of him, always. He'd better learn to live with it. He rubbed his chest, willing away the pain, the odd tightness in his throat, the stinging behind his eyes. He should have stayed within the safety of the void. Living had become entirely too painful. The eerie blue glow coming from somewhere above her barely allowed her to see a few feet into the evil darkness surrounding her. The air, thick with the stench of waste, mildew and decay, threatened to wrench from her the meager contents of her starving belly. Hearing the clatter of claws on the stone floor, she drew her legs tighter against her chest and tried to fight off the chills that wracked her body, making her teeth chatter so violently that she feared for her tongue. A pair of red, glowing eyes appeared in the darkness, then another and another until, suddenly, they surrounded her--hundreds of glowing red eyes. A loud screech broke the silence, echoed by dozens more. They attacked, tearing at her arms, her legs, her face. Screaming in pain, she struck out with her fists, kicked with her feet, but there were too many of them.

One leaped, clawing at her. Its blood-stained jaw opened, its rancid breath hot on her face, then its teeth sank into her throat..... Ariana woke with heart-rending scream, bolting upright in bed. It took only a moment for her to realize that she sat in her own bed, in her dwelling, and not in that horrible place. She pressed her trembling hand to her heaving chest, willing her heart to slow down. When her door slid open, her room filled with light, silhouetting Kari's slight form in the open doorway. "Mistress, are you well?" "I had a nightmare," Ariana said, struggling to keep the shakiness from her voice. "I'm fine now." "You're sure?" "Yes." She nodded. "Please return to your bed." "As you wish." Kari stepped back and the door swished shut, shrouding the room once again in darkness. Ariana shivered, knowing that what she'd experienced hadn't been a normal nightmare. It had been too detailed, too alive with sights, sounds, and smells. Too real. She shivered again and reached up to touch the small control panel in her headboard. The window shade opened, flooding the room with pale moonlight. Sighing, she scooted down under the covers and pulled them up to her chin, wishing that Morgan were here to hold her, to chase away her demons. As images from the dream flashed through her mind, she came to a startling realization. The body she'd worn in the dream had been too big, too firm, too dark. The body had been Morgan's. "Dear goddess," she whispered into the darkness, tears filling her eyes. "What did they do to you?"

Chapter 9 "You weren't planning on sneaking out of here, were you?" Gar asked from his bed. Glancing up, Morgan shook his head and finished fastening his last bootstrap. {I was just going to wake you. It's almost dawn, and I wanted to be gone before your bunkmate came in.} "Fewer questions the better. Good idea." Gar rolled to his feet. He

yawned, scratching at his groin. Hiding his amusement behind a cough, Morgan stood and moved to the door. {I'll wait for you outside.} He stepped into the brisk pre-morning air, giving the man some privacy. Over the east side of the compound, where Ariana's dwelling sat, the sky blended from deep purple, to lavender, to just a touch of yellow at the horizon, with the dawn of the new day. As he listened to the sounds of the compound coming awake, he could see Ariana's dwelling from where he stood. Light spilled from her bedroom window, and as he watched, a dark shadow moved in front of it, pausing for a moment, before moving away. She was awake. That surprised him. He'd thought she would sleep late, considering how early they'd arisen yesterday. He wondered if her night had passed as badly as his had. He'd had that damned nightmare again. Blasted screech rats! He didn't dare sleep while he was in the pit, and now that he was out, they still wouldn't give him any peace. Gar walked up beside him, stretching his arms over his head as he breathed deeply, then stood silently beside Morgan for a few minutes, watching the sky change colors. "That is a pretty sight." Morgan nodded. "Sunrise look like that on Bellariss?" Overcome with a sudden wave of homesickness, Morgan swallowed thickly, then shook his head. {Our sunrises aren't much to look at, but our sunsets--gods, I miss our sunsets.} He'd never realized how much he'd taken for granted, until he didn't have it anymore. Gar cleared his throat and blinked a few times, betraying that he might feel a little homesick himself. "I'll take you to the showers before I escort you back." The entire walk to the showers, Morgan tried to imagine the kind of reception he would receive when Gar delivered him to her door. Cool? Angry? Dismissive? He just didn't know. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care how she greeted him, but his heart wasn't accepting it. "Here you go." Gar ushered him into the men's shower house. His voice echoed in the large empty chamber. "I've got an errand to run, so I'll be back in a few minutes." Morgan nodded, sitting on a bench, and bent to unfasten his boots. He yanked one boot off and glanced up to find Gar still watching him, a

thoughtful frown on his face. {Go ahead. I'll be all right.} Gar flinched, startled out of his thoughts. He gave Morgan a brisk nod and strode out of the chamber. After yanking off the other boot, Morgan dug Drake's coin out of his pocket and dropped into the boot. He didn't know what the sanitizer would do to gold, and he wasn't willing to risk the coin being damaged. He intended to put that coin back in Drake's hand. He shrugged out of his coveralls and tossed them into the sanitizing bin beside the stall door. The shower turned on the second he stepped on the pressure sensitive floor of the stall. Sighing, he ducked his head under the warm pulsing water and let it soothe away the aches of a restless night. As he lathered up his body, his thoughts strayed to Ariana. What was it about her that drew him to her, like a suicide-buck was drawn to a cliff? Unfortunately, he had no answer. Even before he'd bonded with her, there had been some sort of link between them, an awareness that couldn't be denied. Knowing Gar would soon come to get him, Morgan forced all thoughts of Ariana to the back of his mind and ducked under the water to rinse. He touched the control, and the water shut off. A steady blast of warm air filled the stall, drying him completely in a few short minutes. He took his sanitized coveralls from the bin and pulled them up over his hips, retrieved Drake's coin from his boot, then yanked them on and strode to the long row of basins. He'd cleaned his teeth, and had just lathered up his face to shave, when Gar returned. As he lifted the laz-shaver to his face, he felt Gar watching him. He shaved half his face without hearing a sound from Gar, and wondered what kept the talkative man silent. Glancing at him through the mirror, he found Gar's gaze fixed on his back, his expression a mixture of horror and fascination. {I would have thought you'd seen a lot of that here.} Gar flinched and looked guiltily away, his face flushing with color. "I, uh--" he shook his head. "She doesn't allow it." His gaze strayed back. {Healed up pretty well, don't you think? My last beating took nearly two weeks to heal.} Gar cleared his throat, and turned away. "I'm sorry. If I could have helped you, I would--" {Not much you could have done from the other side of the fence.

Besides, I knew it would happen.} Morgan grinned. {I just didn't expect it to be over a woman that I didn't have the satisfaction of bedding.} A stunned look crossed Gar's face then he laughed, clapping Morgan on the shoulder. The shaver slipped and nicked Morgan's jaw. He winced, pressing his finger to the small cut. Gar instantly turned contrite. He apologized, reaching for the tin of nick ointment. A dab immediately stopped the bleeding. {Remind me never to make you laugh around dangerous objects.} Morgan flicked the razor off then washed the lather from his face. Gar threw a towel at him and laughed, but didn't touch him this time. Morgan grinned and dried his face and chest with the towel. "I brought this for you." He handed Morgan a small pad and stylus. "Figured it would be better than scratching in the dirt, and that way, if you wanted to keep that telepathy thing a secret--" {I do. You caught me by surprise last night, or I wouldn't have--} Morgan broke off and shrugged, knowing Gar understood what he meant. {Thank you.} Gar nodded, waving off his thanks. "We'd better get going." Can't keep Her Majesty waiting, he thought, slipping the pad into his pocket. After he finished dressing, he combed his pitifully short hair then turned for Gar's inspection. {Will I do?} "She'll welcome you with open arms." Morgan released a disgusted snort and followed Gar out of the building. All too soon, he found himself standing on Ariana's doorstep. The door slid open before Gar could press the chime. She stood in the doorway wearing that damned black and white uniform of hers, looking like pure business. Strangely, he couldn't read her mood in her eyes. She stared at him for so long that he had the ridiculous urge to fidget, then she finally turned her gaze to Gar. "Thank you for seeing him back this morning, Lieutenant." She stepped aside for Morgan to enter. Hearing the cool, flat tone her voice, Morgan sighed. He wasn't in the mood for another fight. Gar gave him an encouraging nod, then turned and walked away, leaving him no option but to step inside. When the door slid shut behind him, her cool façade disappeared. She launched herself at him with enough force to knock him back a few steps

before he caught his balance. Her soft arms slipped around his waist and hugged him tightly, her cheek pressing against his chest. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice husky. "When I saw you with her after the way we parted, I--" {Shhh...} He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he enfolded her in his embrace. {I know what you thought.} With her warm, soft body in his arms, suddenly he didn't care anymore. "Tell me you don't desire her and I'll believe you." She lifted her watery gaze to meet his, catching her quivering lip between her teeth. {Gods, Ariana, don't you understand? I'm bonded to you mind, body, and soul. I'll never desire another woman as long as I live.} Her jewel-colored eyes deepened to the dark, velvety shade of the mountain pines on Bellariss. Her sudden arousal hit him a mere second before her lips pressed against his. It coiled around him, through him, building a fire that only she could extinguish. He groaned silently into her mouth, his arms tightening around her, crushing her soft breasts against his chest. She tore her mouth from his and pressed her palms against his chest, putting some space between them. Her body trembled with need, the heat in her belly begging him to come to her, but she held herself away. "If you don't want this, walk away now." {Where is Kari?} His frantic gaze searched the room. Ariana stiffened in his grasp. "She went to the showers, then to breakf--" Morgan's lips swallowed the rest of her words as he swept her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom. Ariana could lay like this forever, wrapped in his arms with the satin sheets tangled about their entwined legs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her back. She rubbed her cheek against the smooth skin of his chest and sighed. "So this is what's supposed to happen after." {Mmmhmm,} he murmured into her mind, his arms tightening gently, and pressed a kiss into her hair. {I like to cuddle, and savor the feelings while they last. I suppose that means I'm sentimental.} And he probably remembers each one fondly, she thought jealously, refusing to even think about the faceless encounters in her own memories. "Do this often, do you?" She glanced up at him. {Not as often as you might think.} His grin told her that he knew what

she was feeling, making her blush clear down to her toes. {There were a few wild encounters when I was young and my hormones were raging, but for the most part, I had to be careful.} His expression grew serious. {There are a lot of women out there who would do just about anything to become the next queen.} He loosened his hold, keeping one arm around her as he shifted from his side to his back. His other arm fell heavily to the bed. He spoke from experience, she realized, and reached over to lace her fingers with his. He turned his face away from her. {Then, there are those who just want to be able to say that they drekked a future king.} Hearing the vulgar word, Ariana flinched and felt a mixture of anger and pain wash over her. Her heart broke for him, knowing that he suffered such humiliation. "That's not me, Morgan. I've wanted you from the first moment I saw you, but it had nothing to do with who you were or who you will be. I just wanted you." He nodded, letting his breath out slowly. After all he'd suffered, she couldn't help wondering if he believed her. "I'm sorry they hurt you." She pressed a kiss to his chest. "People can be so cruel." He shook his head, opening his eyes to look at her. {They called it the first stage. I guess with you being Jotnar, you're familiar with all their forms of torture.} Ariana tried to swallow the lump in her throat and shook her head. "Not my department," she whispered, realizing even as she said it how weak her excuse sounded. {Everything they did those first two weeks was to degrade or humiliate me. Shackling me nude to a bed in an observation room so that anyone who cared to could watch what they did to me. Taunts of spreading my bastard children throughout the Jotnar. Letting them take a trophy with them when they'd finished with me.} Ariana gasped in horror. "A trophy?" What could they have taken from him? {My hair.} He swallowed and looked away. {Each of them took a length of my hair. They braided it into a rope and hung it from their belts. I couldn't turn around without seeing one of them.} And the game, she thought furiously, the game was part of it. She'd find

them. She'd make them pay for hurting the man she loved! Loved? Yes, loved! "Who were they? Would you recognize them if you saw them again?" She squeezed his hand, prompting him to answer. He jerked his hand from her grasp and sat up, presenting her with his scarred back. {I'll never forget! That was the whole point. They made sure I would remember every moment I spent with them. Every face, every word, every touch.} Dear goddess! No one should have to suffer that much pain, and that was only the first stage. There was more, so much more that he didn't say. Her memories of the nightmare told her that. No wonder he'd given up. Life had become too painful for him, and she'd brought him back to it, back to the horrors he'd been trying to escape. Ariana ached to reach out and touch him, to tell him how sorry she was, but she knew he'd pull away. His memories had a grip on him and wouldn't let go. His emotions washed over her like a turbulent storm--anger, fear, frustration, sorrow, horror, and pain. So much pain. She had to get him away from this place, away from the evil of the Jotnar. Today. She'd find a way today. The thought of him leaving her now made her heart ache, but he had to go. This place, Grader, the constant reminders--they'd kill him. They'd eat away at him until there was nothing left. A shudder ran through his big body, then he suddenly stood and headed for the sani-chamber. {I need a shower.} Morgan didn't wait for her reply. His skin crawled so bad he thought he was going to vomit. He could feel their hands and mouths on him. It sickened him now, just as it had then. A moment after the door closed behind him, his stomach lurched. He barely made it to the sanitary in time. But the crawling only got worse. He threw himself into the shower, adjusting the pressure until the force of the hot water stung his skin. Shoving his head under the spray, he blindly grabbed the sponge and cleanser. He had to make it stop! He furiously scrubbed at his skin until it burned, then scrubbed harder. The crawling wouldn't stop. He couldn't make it stop! A soft hand touched his back. Morgan jerked away. {Don't touch me! Gods, don't touch me.} He slammed his fists against the shower wall, then again, and again. They had no right to do this to him. They had no right.

"Morgan, please!" Ariana cried. Fists clenched, he whirled around. His chest heaved as he stared at her tear-streaked face and fought for control. "Please," she whispered, and gently pried the sponge from his fingers. He pulled away from her touch but after one step his back pressed against the shower stall. There was no where for him to go. He had to endure the gentle stroke of the sponge as she slid it over his body. He clenched his eyes shut, forcing himself to bear her touch. She started at his shoulder, smoothing it across his chest, over his abdomen, and down his hips, then knelt to wash his legs and feet. Rising, she stroked it down his arm. He slowly un-fisted his hands, letting her thread the soapy sponge between his fingers. She lifted his hand into the spray, rinsing away the soap. When her soft lips drew his finger deep into her warm mouth, his eyes flew open. Her tongue teased the sensitive pad of his finger, stealing his breath. Then she repeated the process with his other arm, hand, finger. As Morgan pulled his finger from her mouth, Ariana stared into his eyes, her soapy hands moving to the part of him he considered most unclean. She was relentless but thorough, gently cleansing every millimeter of his flesh, not letting him pull away. A tremor ran through Morgan's body as his eyes drifted shut. They were gone. The only face he saw was hers. The only touch he felt was hers. Ah, gods, they were gone, leaving a raging desire burning through him. But still, he held back. Then Ariana's lips touched his chest, and he was lost. Morgan slipped his arms around her waist as he pressed her against the shower wall, the spray pelting his back. She slid her fingers up his neck then buried them in his wet hair while her lips left a fiery trail of kisses down his throat and chest. His hands slid down to cup her buttocks and lift her off her feet, as his lips hungrily went for her soft neck. Ariana snaked her legs around him, grinding her moist heat against him. He inhaled sharply, his nostrils filling with her scent, and pulled her tightly against him, sliding her up the hard length of his erection. She gasped, her head falling back. Rivulets of water trickled between her breasts and down her belly to pool where their bodies touched. When the throbbing tip of him found her inviting entrance, he yanked her down, thrusting his hips upward.

"Yes!" she cried out, echoing his silent shout. Her muscles tightened around him, sending a shudder of pleasure through him so strong that his knees went weak. Her hips bucked, urging him on, setting the pace. Every gasp, moan, and sigh enhanced his pleasure, built the frenzied need, until he could think of nothing except how she made him feel. She stiffened and screamed, convulsing around him only a moment before he erupted within her. Gasping for breath, he turned with her clasped against him and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, oblivious to the water raining down on them. He held her tight as she wilted against his chest. Her lips found the hollow of his throat, coaxing a tremor from him. He hugged her tighter and pressed a kiss to her wet head, his love for her filling and overflowing his meager heart so strongly that his chest hurt. His realization that he loved her didn't surprise him. Strangely, he just accepted it. He loved her. He didn't have to say the words. He saw in her eyes that she knew, and knowing caused her pain. Why? Because she didn't love him back? He didn't expect her to. Not really. Ariana's lips quivered as they pressed against his. "I have to get ready for work," she whispered, her voice shaky. Then, with a shuddering sigh, she pulled away. Reality intrudes once again, he thought bitterly, and watched her step dripping-wet out of the stall. Shaking his head, Morgan sighed, then pulled himself to his feet. He washed up, then let the dryer run its cycle, hoping to give her the time she needed to sort through whatever was bothering her. Damp towels lay scattered about the bathroom floor. Morgan grabbed them up and tossed them into the sanitizer, then stepped into the bedroom. His coveralls were neatly folded and sitting on the chair, but Ariana was gone. Captive Hearts Lissa Michaels 158 ~ * ~ {I thought you'd left me.} Hearing his velvety voice whisper through her mind, Ariana's heart fluttered in her breast. She turned her gaze from the food station to look at him. Some of the haunted look had faded from his eyes. Some, not all. A fresh jolt of pain tightened her chest as she thought about how much he must have suffered, and about how much they would both suffer when they had to part. But they'd get over it. They'd have to. His expression changed to one of concern, forcing her to shove her worries to the back of her mind, or risk upsetting him more. He had

enough to struggle with, without her adding to them. She smiled tentatively and beckoned him to the table. "I thought I'd see to breakfast, since Kari doesn't seem inclined." Kari glared at her from where she crouched in the corner of the room. Ariana didn't need her gift to feel the jealous rage flowing off the girl in waves. Kari had obviously seen or heard something and didn't like it, at all. {Kari, come here.} Ariana endured Kari's heated glare as she rose to her feet and walked stiffly to where Morgan stood. He draped his arm over her shoulder and conversed with her silently. Ariana couldn't help feeling a little jealousy herself as she realized that she wasn't going to be included in the conversation. Rather than stare at them like an eavesdropper, she turned back to the food station and ordered her breakfast from the menu. She'd just removed the tray holding her battered toast smothered in campleberry syrup when she felt a light touch on her elbow. "Mistress?" She turned to find Kari looking up at her, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "I'm sorry for my behavior this morning, and want to thank you for everything you've done for me." Kari caught her quivering lip between her teeth then a tortured sob escaped her. Before Ariana could even think of a response, Kari turned and ran for the bedroom. "What was that all about?" {I told her that she'd better be a bit more appreciative if she didn't want to end up back on the auction block.} There was more to it than that but, if he'd wanted her to know, he would have let her hear the conversation. Sighing, Ariana transferred the food to a plate. "She loves you." {It's hero worship. She'll get over it.} He took the plate from her hands. As he turned away and set the plate on the table, she could see that hurting Kari's feelings bothered him. Time to change the subject, she decided. "Would you like something?" She gestured toward the food station. {I'll get it. Sit down and eat.} He pulled her chair out for her, waiting

for her to be seated before he turned and ordered his food. {Am I right in assuming I won't be going to your office with you?} Ariana stiffened, fork poised at her mouth. "After what happened yesterday, I think that would be a good idea. I'd like to keep you two as far from each other as possible." {Would you do something for me?} His question startled her so badly that she could only stare stupidly at him for a moment. "I will if I can." She hoped he'd ask something within her power. {Can you find out if what Grader said about Hastin is true?} He didn't look at her, but she could feel that her answer was important to him. "I did that yesterday," she replied, and his gaze flew to hers. "This man, Hastin, told them where you were in exchange for his freedom. He gave up his son in exchange for passage to Pleasara." Morgan's clenched his fists. His fury struck her with volcanic force, making her flinch. {Bastard! What about Galen? Did he give Galen up too?} "Galen?" {My brother. He was on that ship too.} Ariana's fork dropped to her plate with a noisy clatter. His brother! No wonder Grader's words had affected him so strongly. She rose and went to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I'll try to find out what happened to the rest of the passengers. If he's alive, I'll find him." His arms felt like banded steel as they wrapped around her, hugging her so tightly that she was lifted off her feet. He pressed his face into the side of her neck as a tumult of emotions washed over her--anger, fear, hope. He took a deep shuddering breath, then gently set her on her feet. "Will you be all right while I'm gone?" He nodded, looking at her with eyes so full of pain it made her want to cry. "Stay out of trouble?" That drew a ready grin from him. {Go to work.} He gave her a quick kiss then a gentle shove toward the door. Ariana smiled at him. She hadn't meant the question to be humorous, but if it made him feel better...Sighing, she turned and headed for the door. As she stepped into the bright sunshine, she realized that he hadn't

given her his promise to behave.

Chapter 10 Unable to bear Kari's sullen mood and wounded looks moment longer, Morgan stepped out of Ariana's dwelling, into the midday sun. Sweat instantly beaded on his brow and trickled down his face. Blast, it was hot. So hot, he could actually see the heat rising in waves off the hard-packed dirt beneath his feet. So different from home, he thought as he stepped off the stoop and walked around to the side of the dwelling in search of shade. When he found it, he dropped to the ground and sat back against the cool wall, draping his arm across his raised knee. It never got this hot on the mountains of Bellariss. Not even the central continent on the equator, where his family lived, got this hot. This stifling heat made him long for the balmy tropical breezes that drifted in from the Dragasson Sea and kept the palace cool even in the middle of Sommer. Ariana would love it. Love it? Gods, where had that come from? She'd never want to see his home. After what he'd confessed to her, he'd be lucky if she ever wanted to touch him again. She came to you, he reminded himself. Yes, she had, and ran away in horror immediately after. At first, he'd thought it was because she'd felt his love for her. Now, he wasn't so sure. Did the thought of lying with him, knowing he'd been used like a whore, sicken her? Why had he confessed his shame to her? He'd been wondering about that for hours now, and still hadn't figured it out. He'd sworn to himself that he'd never tell another living soul--not even his twin-what had happened to him in the prison on Chula. Yet, after one jealous question from her, he'd cataloged his sex life for her and told her of the first phase of Jotnar hell. It wouldn't happen again. If she wanted to know what else had happened to him, she could look it up in her precious files. And as far as his feelings were concerned, his mental barrier was up again-permanently. She wouldn't have to feel them again, ever. Grader exited the dwelling across from Morgan, jarring him out of his

brooding thoughts. Looking neither left nor right, Grader tugged at the hem of his uniform jacket and stalked off in the direction of the main complex. So close. And alone. A sudden need to drag the man off to a concealed corner and pound him had Morgan rising to his feet. But before he'd moved a step, the skin on the back of his neck prickled. Someone watched him. Gar, of course. He stood not ten meters from Morgan, leaning against the plasteel wall of Ariana's dwelling. He shook his head, effectively telling him that he knew what he was thinking and wouldn't allow it. Sighing, Morgan leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, and stared at Grader until he was gone from sight. He turned his head and glared at Gar. {You're becoming quite a nuisance.} Gar grinned, walking toward him, but before he could reply, the door to Grader's dwelling slid open. Morgan knew Vita was in trouble the moment she stumbled outside. He ran to help, catching her just as she collapsed. "No more, please," she whispered through swollen, bleeding lips and went limp in his arms. "Cripes, look at her," Gar whispered. Her whole face was bruised in shades of yellow, green, and purple, telling Morgan she received regular beatings. One eye had completely swollen shut. And, by the raspy sound of her breathing, he guessed she probably had a broken rib. Gar's shadow fell across them, blocking the light. {We've got to get her away from him, before he kills her.} Blast that evil bastard! He would pay! Morgan vowed that before he left this place, he'd see Grader off to hell. "I know someone that can help," Gar said. "Follow me." Carrying her gently in his arms, Morgan followed Gar through a little-used access tunnel that brought them into the main complex. The tunnel opened into a busy cargo bay, filled with slaves and guards loading and offloading crates and barrels from waiting transport ships. Gar quickly ushered him into a nearby storage room and told him to wait. Morgan knelt and gently lay the battered woman on the floor. He brushed the hair away from her bruised face and couldn't help feeling that he was responsible for some of this woman's pain. Grader had promised retribution, and it appeared he'd kept his word. Gar returned after a few short minutes, followed closely by a Novan cat-man. He'd heard that Novans were able to communicate telepathically among their people, and wondered if that applied to human telepaths as well. Topaz cat's-eyes, with their diamond-shaped pupils, quickly took his

measure. The Novan hissed, his fur raising, and backed up a step. "By all that is holy, what are you doing in this place?" {I'm trying to get this woman to safety.} Turning away from the Novan's startled expression, he glared at Gar. {Is this some kind of joke?} {No, Your Highness, there is no joke,} the Novan replied telepathically, going down on his knee before Morgan. "I humbly apologize for my outburst. I was not expecting to see you here." Morgan glanced back at Gar, eyebrow raised. Gar grinned. "They don't let him out much." {Can you help her?} "I can." The Novan pulled his tool bag off his shoulder and reached inside. He retrieved a small box from deep within the pack, and slid back the lid. Inside were dozens of small, thin colorless disks. {What are those?} "Code disks." The Novan pulled one from the box. He pressed it against Vita's shoulder. A second later, it disappeared. Code disks? Before Morgan could question him, the Novan pulled a small remote from his pocket and pointed it at Vita. There was a bright flash, and then she was gone. Transporter code--the disks contained transporter code. He'd bet his life that this was Drake's doing. Pulling one of the disks from the box, Morgan asked, {Where did you send her?} Both Gar and the Novan looked surprised that he'd understood what had just happened. "There's a Guild settlement hidden in an unpopulated section of the planet," Gar said. "She'll receive medical treatment, food, clothing, protection--whatever she needs--until the transport arrives to take her to a safe place." The importance of what Morgan had just seen was not lost on him. That little box in the Novan's grasp just might be the solution to one of his problems. He flipped the disk over his knuckles the way Drake had taught him, then caught it in his hand. {How many of these do you have?} "Four dozen. Why?" Not enough. {Can you get more of them? A lot more?} "Possibly. Again, I must ask why?"

{What is your name?} "Kerok, Your Highness." {Well, Kerok, we have a serious problem, and I think these little disks will help.} Grinning at their confused expressions, he began his tale and watched their expressions progress through surprise, anger, and finally determination. {So, do you think you can get more of these?} He flipped the disk to Kerok, who caught it deftly in his fur-covered hands. Kerok shook his head and carefully replaced the disk in its box. "Rico will not return until next month. That is too late." {If we could get word to him?} The cat-man nodded. "He could transport them here immediately." {Then we need to find a way to get me to the Ardelis Medical Center. There's someone there that might be able to help us.} "I think I know a way." Gar moved to the door. When Morgan and Kerok joined him, he pointed at a cargo ship being loaded. "That transport is going to be delivering medical supplies tonight. You and I are going to be on it." Ariana took her place at the table, anxiously waiting for Kari to serve the evening meal and sit. She'd had a very productive day today, and couldn't wait to share it with them. {What is it?} Morgan watched her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Ariana held up her finger and waited for Kari to be seated. "I have good news," she said, smiling at Kari. "I've arranged your sale." {You what?} Morgan leapt to his feat. Kari gasped, her hand covering her mouth. Ariana just smiled at them. "I've located your grandparents. The only way I could legally return you to them was to arrange for them to buy you." The arrangements had been surprisingly easy to make. Morgan slumped back into his chair. "My grandparents don't have credits. The governor's men took me to pay their taxes," Kari whispered, her expression a mixture of fear and hope. "Don't worry." Ariana patted her hand. "I've taken care of everything. You'll be leaving tomorrow."

Kari burst into tears. "What's wrong? Don't you want to go home?" Ariana gathered the girl into her arms. Kari sniffed loudly and nodded. "I do. It's just--" She sniffed. "I was so mean to you this morning. You shouldn't be nice to me." "Shhh...It's all right. I understand what you were feeling." I've felt it a time or two myself, Ariana thought, glancing at Morgan. "Go wash your face. You'll feel better." Kari sniffed, then did as she was told, leaving Ariana alone with Morgan. She saw his grin and heat filled her cheeks. He knew. {Your noble act wasn't done for an entirely noble reason, was it?} The door chime saved her from having to reply. It chimed three more times before she could make the short walk to the door. Though relieved by the interruption, she felt a surge of annoyance at the incessant summons. She palmed the door control. "What in the world is going on?" "Where is she?" Grader demanded, shoving her aside. He stalked toward Morgan, his blaster aimed at Morgan's head. "Commander! I insist that you explain yourself." She hurried after him and tried to step between them. Neither man would allow it. "Vita's gone. I want to know what he did with her," Grader snarled, keeping his furious glare fixed on Morgan. "I'm sure that if you--" "I've already had the whole compound searched. She's gone. He was seen carrying her off. I want to know where." Ariana looked at Morgan and concentrated, trying to sense from him whether or not he was involved. She sensed nothing. It was as if a meter-thick duracrete wall had been erected between them. Blast! Involved or not, she had to get control of this situation before it became deadly. "Holster that weapon, Commander. Now!" "No. He's going to tell me where she is, right now, or I'm going to blast his head clear off." "You've got three seconds to holster that weapon or I'm going to call the guards and have them drag you down to detention." Grader turned his head and glared at her. In an instant, Morgan had him disarmed, the gun pointed between his eyes.

Ariana stood there a long moment, too stunned to blink. She'd never seen anyone move so fast in her life. Neither had Grader, she noticed, forcing herself not to smile. He made quite a sight, glaring furiously down the barrel of his own weapon. "Give me the blaster." She held out her hand. She knew Morgan would love to use it on Grader, and felt much better when it was safely in her grasp. She slipped the weapon into her pocket and asked, "Do you know where she is?" Morgan shook his head. "He's lying." "What would you have me do, Commander? Beat a confession out of him? If I recall correctly, you've tried that method and it wasn't very effective." "Administrator, I insist--" "I think you'd better look elsewhere to lay your blame. Perhaps you should start with yourself." Grader opened his mouth to protest. Ariana held up her hand, silencing him. "This interrogation is finished. Goodnight, Commander." "This isn't over," Grader growled, jabbing his finger in Morgan's direction. Morgan bowed his head, and Ariana knew that a challenge had been accepted. Swearing, Grader turned on his heel and stomped out the door, leaving her alone once again with Morgan. Kari would likely stay hidden in the bedroom for some time yet. "You handled yourself very well." Morgan smiled at her, then bowed elegantly from the waist. "So." Ariana crossed her arms over her chest. "Where is she?" He stiffened, meeting her stare evenly. {I didn't lie. I don't know where exactly she is.} "But you were involved in her escape. Don't even try to deny it." Ariana fought to tamp down her jealousy, but it was hard, very hard. Had he befriended the entire female slave population? {I wasn't going to.} Morgan slouched into his chair, lacing his fingers together across his abdomen. "Goddess above, Morgan. Do you realize what an awkward situation you've put me in? I'm duty-bound to report your involvement in this." {Duty verses conscience.} He straightened in his chair, his stare suddenly hard and cold. {Report me then. Because I'm telling you right now, I'd do it again no matter what they do to me. Gods, Ariana, you should have seen her. She looked worse than I did.}

"I don't understand." {He beat her, badly, repeatedly. How could I have sent her back to him knowing that the next beating would probably kill her?} Ariana sank into the chair next to him and rubbed her fingers against her suddenly aching temples. "What am I going to do? Grader's probably on the com, right now, reporting me for refusing to investigate an escape. They'll give him my job." {Let him have it.} "I can't do that!" {Why? Is being a Jotnar slaver that important to you?} "No, of course not. I told you, I hate slavery. But I've done a lot of good here. Did you know that, before I took command, the life expectancy of a slave on this base was two weeks?" She could see that surprised him. "When Grader was in charge, beatings like the one you received were a regular occurrence. No," she shook her head, "I can't let that monster get control of this base again." {Then, you do what you have to do.} Morgan rose to his feet. {There's nothing they can do to me that hasn't already been done. You just remember that, very soon, the lines will be drawn, and you'd better pray you're standing on the right side.} Without another word, he strode past her and walked out the door. Going to bed angry did have its advantages, Morgan thought as he carefully disengaged himself from Ariana's sleeping form. Because of their argument, he didn't feel a blasted bit guilty about sneaking out of her bed in the middle of the night. What the hell did she expect from him? She as good as said she'd give him up for helping Vita escape to save her blasted position. Yes, she'd done a lot of good here, but did protecting her position mean that individual lives no longer mattered? Didn't he matter to her? Obviously not. Morgan grabbed his coveralls from the chair, donned them, then picked up his boots and slipped silently out of the room. As he tiptoed past the couch, Kari stirred. He froze, listening to her sleepy mumble as she rolled over. When he was sure she wouldn't wake, he unlocked the door and stepped into the pale moonlight. The door slid shut behind him. With any luck, he'd be back before Ariana woke. If not, she'd have more

to hold against him. Sitting on the stoop to pull on his boots, he laughed at himself, thinking that luck had been steering clear of him for far too long. Knowing how badly the odds were against him, a smart man would use this opportunity to escape. That wasn't a viable option for him. He couldn't turn his back on these people, not when there was a good chance that he could save them. Morgan fastened his bootstraps and stood, just about to go off in search of Gar, when the man rounded the corner of the building. "Good, you're up. I was worried you'd fallen asleep. I don't think I'd have been able to wake you without bringing the whole compound running." Morgan had dozed off once, but the feel of Ariana's soft backside squirming up against him had quickly jolted him awake. {Is everything ready?} Gar nodded. "Let's go. We'll use the tunnel to get into the cargo bay." Gar continued to explain his plans as they headed for the tunnel. "I arranged for you to replace one of the regular cargo slaves. When we get into the bay, keep your head down and try not to draw attention to yourself. If someone recognizes you, our escapade is over." Morgan nodded and followed Gar into the dimly lit tunnel. The light tubes mounted on the rock ceiling cast a soft green glow, reminding him of the pit. His preoccupation with getting Vita to safety must have kept him from noticing it before. He resisted the shudder that threatened to pass through him every time he remembered that hellish place. "When we get to the medical center, you'll help unload the cargo and put it into storage while I play supervisor," Gar whispered, careful not to let his voice echo. "Then, when I give you the signal, you'll slip away to go see that doctor." Morgan nodded. Gar's plan wasn't much different than the one he'd been wrestling with. Still, his plan did have merit. {Perhaps you could escort me up to her office with the excuse of a personal delivery.} Gar stopped. "That could work." Pulling a pad from his uniform pocket, his expression went from thoughtful to triumphant as he searched through the data on the pad. "There is a crate addressed to her. I'll just make a note on this bill of lading that it's to be delivered directly to her office." {That's it then.} This would be easier than he thought.

"That's it. Let's go. Remember, keep your head down." Slapping his palm on the door control, Gar led the way into the cargo bay. An hour later, Morgan stood behind Gar in a freight-lift traveling swiftly up to the level that held the doctor's office. What if she couldn't contact Drake? No, he thought, she had to be the one. He'd only been two places on this world--the base and this hospital. Thus far, he hadn't been able to find anyone on the base that could make direct contact with Drake, so it had to be someone in this building. Morgan's instincts were telling him that she was the one. But what if she wouldn't help him? He'd just have to convince her. What doctor couldn't be convinced to help save hundreds of innocent lives? One without a conscience, he stubbornly thought. No, she'd patched him up even though her regulations went against it. She wouldn't let innocent people die. What if she contacted Ariana? He'd worry about that later. He had to, because the lift slowed to a stop. He reached down to retrieve the doctor's crate just as the lift doors opened. They stepped out into the corridor. Gar turned to Morgan. "Which way?" There were three directions they could take. Picturing the floor-plan in his mind, Morgan pointed left. {All the way down to the end, then right, then left.} "All right." Gar hitched up his pants in way that reminded Morgan of bolstering courage. "Let's get this over with, and pray that we come out with our hides still attached." Morgan grinned. {Lead the way.} Due to the lateness of the hour, the stark, white corridors were softly lit and surprisingly empty. Med-centers on Bellariss were always bustling with activity, no matter how late it was. There were no markings of any kind on the walls, but the glossy white tile floor had colored lines that went off in different directions. They rounded the final corner and nearly bumped into a skinny, bird-beaked, med-center employee. "Where do you think you're going?" The man's head barely reached Morgan's chest, yet he stood there, arms crossed, glaring at them in a way Morgan guessed was supposed to be intimidating. What it did was make them laugh.

Flushing with anger, the man pushed by them. "I'm calling security." "Now, now, there's no need for that." Gar grabbed the man's arm. "I've got orders to see this crate delivered directly to Dr. Arneshton's office." The man shook his head impatiently. "That's not normal procedure." "I know that, but I've got orders right here." Gar shoved his pad under the man's nose then pulled it away. "She wants this crate so bad, she went directly to my superior. If I don't get it on her desk before the night is out, I'll be sweeping up sand on Chula." Gar got nose to nose with the little man. "I'm not about to let that happen. You understand me?" The little man nodded nervously and motioned them on their way. As Morgan passed him, the man reached out and stopped him. "You look familiar. Have you been here before?" Morgan shrugged. "Move it, slave!" Gar growled. "If I get sent to Chula, I'm going to take it out of your hide." Gritting his teeth, Morgan stepped around the little man and followed Gar. He must have felt the hole Morgan was glaring into his back, because as soon as they were out of sight, he turned and apologized. "I was just trying to get us away from him before he remembered who you are." {I know what you were doing, but hearing that word applied to me makes me want to pound the nearest object into a bloody pulp.} "The nearest object being me?" Morgan grinned. {You catch on quickly.} Gar laughed and clapped him on the back. "Come on, let's get this over with." They walked through the door marked with the doctor's name. She sat at her desk, pretty, petite, her head capped with short blonde curls. She barely glanced at them before turning back to her computer. "Deliveries are made down in receiving." Morgan set down the crate and met Gar's gaze. "He's risked a lot coming here. Don't you think you could at least talk to him?" Gar asked. Releasing an exasperated sigh, she swiveled her chair around to face them. When her eyes focused on Morgan, her mouth dropped open in shock. "Goddess above, what are you doing here? Does Ariana know where you are?"

Shaking his head, Morgan approached her and pulled his pad from his breast pocket. He scribbled I need your help on the pad and passed it to her. "What can I do to help you that Ariana can't?" A confused look crossed her face as she handed the pad back to him. "And why aren't you speaking? Your vocal cords are fine." Morgan shrugged, then grinned when she pulled out her medical scanner and ran it over his throat. Always in doctor mode, he supposed. She stared at the readout, shaking her head. "There's no damage. Are you sure you can't speak?" "I'm sure." His lips formed the words, but there was no sound. He sighed, disappointed. It had been a long time since he'd tried to speak--and he'd hoped... Shaking the thought away, he scribbled I need to contact Rico. She jerked away from him. "I can't help you." Morgan grabbed her wrist. {Don't play that game with me.} She gasped, her eyes widening. "You're telepathic!" {I'm surprised he didn't tell you since he told you about the scars. Did he tell you how we got them as well?} His normally closed-mouthed friend had told her much more than Morgan had ever expected. Had he broke their vow of silence? "No, he wouldn't say." She turned her face away, refusing to look at him. "Let me go. I can't help you." {Nikita, I know you're the one who told him where to find me.} Blasted females! This doctor was just as stubborn as Ariana. "I can't help you," she insisted, trying to tug her wrist free. {There are a lot of lives at stake.} Damn, but she was loyal. What did Drake do to earn it? "No!" She jerked free and put her desk between them. She sat in her chair and swiveled it so that her back faced him. "I want you to leave." {I know who betrayed him.}

Chapter 11 A soft knock on the ancient, wooden door drew Drake from a much

needed and entirely too short rest. Glancing at the chronometer, he swore softly. It had only been an hour. Blast, didn't anyone listen to instructions anymore? Disentangling himself from the naked woman who'd worked so hard to put him to sleep, he slipped from the bed, padded barefooted to his bureau and grabbed a pair of black, drawstring pants from the shelf. As he dragged them up his legs and over his hips, the knock came again, a little harder. Tying the string at his waist with angry jerks, he strode to the door and yanked it open. Mayori stood in the stone corridor, an apologetic look on her face. The soft light, streaming in from the small window set into the tower wall, gave her pale green hair and green eyes a supernatural glow. "I'm sorry, Rico. I wouldn't have awakened you but Nikita insisted it was urgent." Drake sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. "All right, I'll be up in a minute." When she nodded and turned away, he closed the door then walked over and grabbed a tunic from the bureau. "Rico, what's wrong?" Selita mumbled through kiss-swollen lips. Her long blonde hair tumbled about her shoulders as she squinted to see him in the dark room. "Nothing's wrong. Go back to sleep." He yanked the tunic over his head and jabbed his arms into the sleeves. "Are you coming back bed?" "I am, but I'll probably need you to wear me out again." He leaned over the bed, giving her luscious mouth a leisurely kiss. Her contented purr had him grinning as he headed out the door. She was an insatiable little thing, giving as good as she got and then some. She didn't talk of commitment or love, and didn't ask questions. That was probably why he'd kept her around as long as he had. It wouldn't last much longer, though, it never did. Drake entered the circular stairwell, his bare feet moving silently up the cool stone steps, worn smooth by age and use. His thoughts turned to Nikita. Didn't she realize that every time she used this signal, she put them both at risk? He didn't worry much over himself, but Nikita was too precious to risk for the likes of him. He'd tell her not to do it again. Why was she calling him? He'd gotten precious little sleep since the last time she'd contacted him, especially after he had to leave Morgan behind. Had Morgan gotten himself into more trouble in the few short days he'd

been gone? Gods, he should have just taken Morgan off Cantara and blast the consequences. He still didn't believe that the fate of the entire rebellion rested on whether or not Morgan remained in captivity when it started. Drake stepped through the arched door, out onto the battlements, and paused to stare into the mists that enshrouded his island day and night. A remnant of Trakis' medieval days, the stone castle seemed a fitting place for the Magician. He heard a skycar pass by at a safe distance, and nodded. Only the bravest of fools would venture close to an island with mists too thick to see through. Even fewer would risk provoking the Magician. Deciding he'd stalled long enough, Drake stalked down to the end of the battlement and entered the tower housing his communications equipment. Only a half-dozen steps separated him from Nikita and whatever it was she had to say. He bounded up the steps and strode into the room. Mayori and the other com-station attendant quietly left their posts and closed the door behind them, giving him the privacy he needed without being asked. Drake slipped into Mayori's chair and flipped on the com. "Rico?" Nikita's voice immediately called out. "Yes." "Thank the goddess! I was beginning to think I'd have to give up and disconnect." "Why didn't you?" "Because there's someone here who desperately needs to talk to you." Drek! She'd finally sold him out. "I'm disconnecting." Drake reached out to flip off the com. "No! If you turn your back on him after all he's risked to come here, I'll never forgive you." Drake's hand stilled over the switch. "Who?" "The friend we spoke of recently." Morgan there? How in the hell had he been able to connect Drake with Nikita? "Why?" "You know I wouldn't betray you for anything, not even to save myself, but he's here to save you. I couldn't turn him away."

To save me? What had he learned? "Put him on." "I can't." "Why? Won't he speak to me?" "All right, don't shout! Goddess, that makes my temples pound." Drake hadn't shouted, and he hadn't heard anything come across the com except for Nikita's voice. What was going on? "I don't understand why, but the only way he can speak is in a way he says would hurt you--and that won't work over the com. If you want to talk directly to him, you have to let him patch it into the keyboard." Typed communication without a vid connection was no longer possible on Drake's equipment. He'd have to turn on visual, but that meant turning off the scramblers. If he turned them off now, he ran the risk of the Jotnar picking up his signal. He considered it a small risk compared to seeing Morgan up and about. He wouldn't think twice about it, if it was only himself he had to worry over. "If I turn off the scramblers, you'll be in even more danger." There was only a slight pause before she replied, "I'm willing to take the chance if you are." "Do it." After typing in the code to turn off the scrambler, Drake flipped on the vid-screen. Morgan appeared a moment later. His skin was much paler than it should have been, telling Drake that he'd spent little time in the sun since his capture, and his hair only sported a few months growth. He hadn't noticed that before. "Who died?" Once they reached adulthood, Bellarissian men didn't cut their hair unless they were in mourning. Drake's own hair had grown halfway down his back in the time that had passed since his betrothed had been murdered. Morgan grinned, and then his words flew across the bottom of the screen. Only my innocence. "She treating you well?" Morgan's grin faded. I've suffered worse. "You shouldn't have to suffer anything," Drake growled. Blast that woman! When he got his hands on her, he'dI see you still wear the tattoo. Why didn't you have it removed? What was he supposed to say? That he'd earned the right to wear it?

That he kept it as a reminder of the monster he'd become? "Things are not as advanced out here as they are on Bellariss." After what I saw this afternoon, I don't believe you're lacking in any of Bellariss' technology. Drake stiffened, wondering what Morgan could possibly have learned about his operation while on Cantara. I've never seen a transport that fast--and without the use of a cuff. "Speaking of cuffs, where the hell was yours?" Morgan glanced behind him, then typed I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say that they knew about it and took it from me before I could use it. "Traitorous bastard!" Drake clenched his fists. "What I wouldn't give to get my hands on him." You might change your mind when you find out who it is. "You know who betrayed you?" Morgan nodded. That's one of the reasons that I coerced the kind doctor into contacting you. He betrayed you as well. He told the Jotnar who you really are and what you did for Bellariss. There's a price on your head now--a very large one. Drake knew that. "Who?" Hastin. "Hastin's dead!" Drake spat. "Boyan told me you saw it happen." It sure as hell looked that way to me, but I guess I was wrong. Grader bragged about Hastin giving you up. Ariana checked into it for me, and confirmed it. "Drek! He always was a sadistic bastard. I guess I shouldn't be surprised." Drake rubbed his tired eyes. "What did he get for me?" Passage to Pleasara. Drake swore. His father had given him up for transportation? Gods, wasn't he worth more than that? Why hadn't the old man asked for credits? Had he managed to get his credits another way? "What about Galen?" I don't know. Maybe he is dead. Morgan looked away, and Drake knew how he felt. Galen had been a brother to him as well.

Listen, I need your help. "Go on," Drake said, his voice rough with emotion. You know about the trouble I've started, right? Drake nodded. I met Kerok and saw what he has. I need more of them--a lot more. "Why?" I found out that standard procedure is to exterminate the prisoners, in the event of . . . Well, you get my meaning. Drake nodded. He wasn't surprised. That's why he'd been smuggling anyone of importance he could find out of Jotnar custody and transporting them to safety--just in case. There are over a hundred slaves on that base. With Grader running around, I have to assume that he'll follow procedure when all hell breaks loose. My shadow, here, Morgan gestured behind him, told me you have a safe place"Consider it done. I'll send an extra remote for you. The pad can only take five at a time, so start sending them right away. Just remember, don't do anything to put yourself at risk and be careful of Grader. He might become very unstable." With my shadow watching my every move? Morgan grinned. How much trouble can I get into? "You forget who you're talking to, Ugly. I know you." Morgan's face sobered. I know you, too, Runt. The look in his eyes said more than his missing voice ever could have. Then he made the sign--their sign. He knew. Gods help him, He'd never wanted Morgan to know what he'd become. "I--" I'm sorry. I should have been there. If I hadn't been off sulking about Brinna"It's not your fault, damn it! You're not responsible for the mess I've made out of my life. My mistakes are my own, and I'll be damned if I'll let you shoulder the blame for them." Drake swore, shoving his long hair away from his face. "Gods, if I'd known you've been blaming yourself, I would have contacted you. I should have contacted you anyway, but...." Drake looked away. He'd been too ashamed, and then after a while, he hadn't cared

anymore. He wasn't like Morgan. He wasn't willing to die to uphold his principles. The com beeped, dragging his gaze back to Morgan as the words slid across the bottom of the screen. You did what you had to do to survive. I can't find fault with that. Especially after the last few months I've had. Morgan's jaw clenched then he dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed loudly. Can you get word to Boyan? I don't want innocent people killed. Drake nodded, grateful for the subject change. He'd warn him, but he didn't think there was much to worry about. Morgan stared at him for a long moment. They miss you, you know--especially Dad. When you coming home? Before Drake could think of an excuse, Morgan stiffened and jerked his gaze over his shoulder. Then, with barely a nod of farewell, he reached out and abruptly disconnected the transmission. "Your home," Drake whispered. "The only home I've ever really had was yours." He stared at the blank screen a moment longer, wishing things were different. But then, wishing had never gotten him anywhere. Wishes were as elusive as real magic--there, but impossible to grasp. "Be safe, my friend," he whispered, then strode out of the room, heading for his lab. Morgan needed those code disks, and he'd damned well have them before the sun rose on Cantara. Then, Drake was going to find his father and make him pay for his treason. "You see, Administrator? I told you your slave was here. He's not wearing your collar, but he's a hard one to forget." "Maybe I'll have to remedy that," Ariana said through gritted teeth, glaring at the man in question. She'd come, hoping above all hopes, that there'd been some mistake. The mistake had been hers--in trusting him. She was going to take him home, in chains if she had to, but not before she found out what in blazes was going on. Nikita refused to meet her gaze. The guard studied his boots. Morgan stared at the medassistant, who stood beside her, smiling as if he were observing one of the finest performances Pleasara's theatres had to offer. "You may go," she said to the bird-faced little man, not moving her glare from Morgan.

"But, Administrator, I was hoping--" "You will be rewarded, but only for your discretion. Do I make myself clearly understood?" She didn't want word of this mess getting around, especially to Grader. "Yes, Administrator." The man bowed and quickly made his exit. "You." Ariana fixed her glare on the Jotnar guard that seemed to spend far too much time in Morgan's company. "What's your part in this?" The man clenched his jaw, but said nothing. "Speak now, or you'll find yourself in detention for insubordination." {He was keeping me out of trouble.} "Return to the transport." He hesitated, glancing at Morgan. After Morgan's nod, he saluted Ariana and walked out of the office. Angry that Morgan only spoke in defense of someone else, she stomped over to him and glared up into his eyes. "Tell me what's going on, right now, or I'll have him flogged." Morgan grabbed her arms and jerked her off her feet so fast that she was suddenly eye-to-eye with him. {You do anything to him, and I'll make you wish you were never born.} How could he threaten her with violence? Didn't he know how scared she'd been when she awoke to the sound of the com and had found him gone? Didn't he know how embarrassed she'd been when that little weasel informed her that her "slave" was on his way up to her best friend? "Bastard!" she whispered. Morgan nodded, then let her go. She stumbled back, but didn't fall. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her sprawled at his feet. "I want to know what's going on, right now, or you just may find that collar around your neck." Morgan leaned back against Nikita's desk and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing in his defense. "Ariana, you can't!" Nikita cried, approaching her. "Oh, no?" Ariana turned to glare at her. "Do you want to tell me why my man stole out of my bed in the middle of the night and came to you?" Nikita flushed guiltily and looked away. "Let's go." Ariana turned toward the door.

"Ariana!" She whirled to face her friend, hoping that Nikita would tell her this was all a big mistake. Tell me you're helping him get home, she silently begged. Tell me I didn't interrupt a liaison. Tell me something! "One minute, I'll give you one minute to tell me what is going on, or you can consider this friendship over." She hardened her heart against Nikita's tear-streaked face. Nikita gasped, her gaze flying to Morgan. He shook his head slightly, and Nikita's head cocked as if she were listening to him. Her expression slowly crumpled. Finally, she nodded and turned her back on them. {She vowed silence to me, and she's too honorable to break her promise.} Morgan practically dared her to say more. Blast him! Had he stolen everyone's loyalty out from under her? Ariana had never thought that Nikita would betray her--not over a man. "So, that's it then." Suddenly weary, she sighed. "Have a wonderful life, Nikita." That said, she turned and strode out of the room. Morgan saw the men she'd left out in the corridor and stopped behind her. {Guards?} "Of course. I didn't know what I was going to find." Thankfully, these two were loyal to her, not Grader. She could count on them to keep their silence. "Let's go. I'm tired, and irritable, and not about to fly all the way back to the base to find my pillow. We'll spend the night at my mother's." Though the thought of facing her mother in the morning turned her stomach, she was in no mood for another long shuttle flight. Morgan let the guards prod him forward without protest or questions. How dare he? Blast! He treated her as if she were the enemy, for goddess's sake! Why? Everything she'd done thus far was to help him. Why wouldn't he trust her? And if that bonding nonsense was true, why did she keep finding him in the company of other women? Kari, Vita, and now Nikita! Was it against his passionate nature to remain faithful to her? Well, she'd had enough. He wouldn't make a fool of her any more. The sooner he was out of her life, the better! Fighting off the urge to cry, Ariana boarded her transport and took the seat nearest to the hatch. Right now, she didn't care where Morgan sat, as long as it was away from her. When everyone had taken a seat, Ariana touched the com control in the arm of her seat and contacted the pilot.

"We're ready to go, Captain. Our destination is the council building." As the ramp pulled in and the hatch slid closed, the pilot's voice filled the small cabin. "I'll have you there in five minutes, Administrator." True to his word, the transport came to a rest against her mother's private docking platform a few minutes later. Morgan followed Ariana out of the shuttle's hatch. The wind howled through the small gap between the shuttle and the platform's transparent enclosure. When his feet were firmly planted on the platform, Morgan paused. The wind was very strong up here. He could almost feel the platform sway beneath his feet. How high were they? He moved to the edge of the platform and looked down. It was too dark for him to judge, but the few lights he saw appeared to be incredibly far away. What could possibly possess them to build this high? Buildings on his world rarely rose more than fifty stories. There was no need for anything taller. "Afraid of heights?" a guard asked, his name-badge read Corbin. Morgan shook his head. "Come on, let's go. She's already inside." The short corridor from the platform opened into a large reception area. Stunned, Morgan stopped. If not for the color difference, he could be standing in his mother's sitting room. His mother favored blues. This room was done in rich burgundies and golds. This couldn't be from Bellariss, he thought as he moved to a small side table. His people didn't export goods anymore, not since the decision to withdraw from the Federation, and this certainly didn't look antique. He moved the table a few inches, careful not to disturb the small statuettes, and glanced at the back. The craftsman's authenticity plate was there. Blast, this room appeared to be filled with Bellarissian furnishings. "If you've finished examining the furniture, I'd like to go now. I'm tired." Morgan glanced up to see Ariana glaring impatiently at him, her hands perched on her hips. Forcing himself not to reply, he carefully replaced the table and straightened. She had a right to be angry. He just hoped that when she'd had time to calm down, she'd relent about ending her friendship with Nikita. He was sorry that he'd come between the two friends, but he couldn't allow Nikita to tell Ariana anything. There was just too much at stake to take the risk. If only he was sure that he could trust her. She hadn't acted like a woman who hated slavery a few minutes

ago. She'd acted like a woman only interested in getting her property back. No, he couldn't trust her. She led him through a dimly lit corridor decorated as glamorously as any of those in the Bellarissian palace. As Morgan took in all the upholstered chairs, carved tables, and gilt-framed artwork, he grew more and more suspicious. It appeared that this entire dwelling might be furnished with Bellarissian goods. As they turned the corner, Morgan paused. The entire left wall of the corridor was glass. Staring out the window, watching the shuttles zip through the forest of skyscrapers like buzzing bees, he was overwhelmed by the strangeness of this world. So very different from home. Gods, he missed his family, especially Sabina--his twin. He found himself missing all the things she used to do to irritate him. He even missed the little aches and pains she'd shared with him during her long pregnancy. Even bonded as he was to Ariana, sometimes he felt so alone. His thoughts automatically strayed to the night the Jotnar had begun their torture. The night he'd been unable to contain the pain and had caused Sabina's baby to birth early. If he'd hurt either one of them, he'd never forgive himself. Sighing, Morgan turned away from the window and followed Ariana into her suite. A sitting room, he noted, glancing at the comfortable-looking couches and chairs, pleased to see that they didn't appear Bellarissian. She pointed to a closed door off to the right and told the guards they could sleep in there then strode toward a set of double-doors directly in front of her. Morgan stood where he was, uncertain whether or not she intended for him to follow. When she turned impatiently to glare at him, he figured that she did. Her room was furnished in modern Cantaran décor, similar to her room on the base, only this one was done in shades of purple, rather than pink. "You'll sleep there tonight." She pointed at the pallet at the foot of the bed. "I don't think I can bear to have you near me." Morgan stiffened. {If I disgust you that badly, I can sleep out there.} He jerked his head toward the door. "Don't even think about it!" She strode stiffly to the control panel near

the door and tapped in a code. "If you try to slip away again, an alarm will go off, summoning every guard within three levels." Morgan scowled at her, dropping to the floor to jerk off his boots. {Going to play the master/slave game, are we?} Ariana crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her posture rigid, her stare unwavering, but she didn't deny it. {Fine. If that's the way you want it--so be it!} He lay back on the pallet, tucking his arm beneath his head, and shut her out. He only wished he could close her out of his heart as easily as he could his mind.

Chapter 12 When Morgan woke hours later, he felt every one of his thirty years represented in some part of his aching body. Rolling to his knees, he stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his back. He'd gotten soft sleeping in Ariana's bed. A few days ago, he would have considered a pallet and carpeting this thick a gift from the gods. Dragging his fingers through his sleep-flattened hair, he glanced toward the bed and was surprised to find it empty. He slept light, if at all these days. He should have heard her get up. The chronometer on the bedside table provided another surprise--it was nearly midday. No doubt Ariana was even more infuriated with him because he'd slept half the day away. Well, she can just stew, he thought, and headed for what he assumed was the sanitation chamber. Yes, shower, sanitary, basin, and that strange cubicle he'd seen in Ariana's sani-chamber on the base. He pulled open the door and glanced inside. Handrails, goggles and a breather--what did this thing do? He wasn't about to try it out, nor would he ask Ariana. A slave didn't speak unless spoken to. He hated to think of himself that way, but she'd drawn the line between them, and he intended to keep on his side. As far as she was concerned, his telepathy had now become as extinct as his voice. Jerking the fasteners on his coveralls open, he slipped them off and tossed them in the sanitizer, then stepped into the shower. After he'd washed and dried, he stepped out of the stall and pulled on his coveralls. He was debating what he would do about his teeth when he spotted a black case on the counter near the basin. It held everything he needed: tooth-cleaning kit, hairbrush, laz-shaver, shaving gel, even the nick

ointment. The woman was a bundle of contradictions, he thought, shaking his head. She made him sleep on the floor, yet she provided him with all this. Gods help him, he didn't understand her and had a feeling he never would. He made quick use of the items in the case, then carefully repacked it and put it back where he'd found it. When he left the bathroom, he paused long enough to see that the bedroom was still empty before striding out the door. He found both the guards sprawled on the couches in the sitting room, their eyes glued to the large entertainment screen covering the better portion of the wall. On it lay a writhing, naked couple. The woman was naked, anyway. The other he wasn't too sure about. He didn't recognize the species. "Would you look at that," Corbin said. The other guard whistled, long and low. "I didn't know you could drek in that position." "He can drek in any position." They both laughed. Corbin saw Morgan and motioned for him to have a seat just as the doors to Ariana's suite slid open. Four men dressed in togas entered the room. Morgan had to struggle to repress his smile. The guards weren't as polite. Corbin laughed outright, while the other chuckled and asked, "What are you supposed to be?" One of the toga-clad men stepped forward, his body rigid. "We are High-Counsel Zoltan's personal sentries. We've come for the slave." "Go ahead." Corbin glanced at Morgan. "They look harmless enough." The guards' laughter followed Morgan into the corridor. The sentries flanked him, saying nothing, and escorted him through the lavish hallways. What was all this? Had he finally pushed Ariana too far? Somehow, he couldn't see her having him punished, but something was about to happen. These sentries watched him too closely, anticipation practically dancing in their eyes. They drew him to an abrupt halt outside a pair of antique wood doors with golden doorknobs. The lead sentry knocked on one of the doors. A young man immediately opened it.

Morgan grinned, looking him over. Togas seemed to be the garment of choice. But unlike the sentries' well-muscled frames, his was slim--almost boyish--and he wore a gold collar around his neck, a slave collar. The seal in the center of the collar pulled at Morgan's memory. Where had he seen it before? At the sentry's prodding, Morgan strode past the boy and entered the room. He stopped abruptly, his heart slamming against his ribcage. Gods! He stood in his mother's throne room. Everything was the same, from the red velvet drapes with their gold fringe to the carved tables draped in gold lamé. In the center of the room, seated on the raised dais with another toga-clad man at her feet, was a woman. She watched him while petting the head resting on her lap. "Go." She gave the head a shove and the man scrambled away. "My name is Kendra Zoltan. I'm Ariana's mother." As she rose and walked toward him, Morgan stood statue still with his arms folded across his chest and watched her warily. She wore her auburn hair piled high on her head, and her flowing gown, little better than the togas her men wore, clung to her youthful-looking form. She was lovely, nearly as beautiful as her daughter, but that loveliness didn't reach her eyes. Instead of the striking emerald eyes Morgan dreamed about, hers were silver and cold. She circled him, her hands running across his back, feeling his arms, his legs. An amused smile played at his lips as he wondered if she would go so far as to check his teeth. When she reached his thigh, he grabbed her wrist, stopping her from touching anything more. Kendra's eyes widened in surprise. "Not completely docile, are you?" She yanked her wrist from his grasp. "You're a fine specimen, though. I can see why Ariana wanted you." Her hand crept up over his chest. "You'd fire any woman's blood." Morgan twitched and she snatched her hand back. He couldn't repress a slight grin. "Ariana's quite put out with you, you know. You've caused her quite a bit of trouble. I don't think it would take very much persuasion on my part to convince her to leave you here with me." She reached her hand out again, hesitating for a second before stroking it down his chest. Morgan clenched his fists, forcing himself not to react, not to move. Ariana wouldn't leave him with this man-eater, not unless her promise to see him home was a lie.

"I always did hunger after Bellarissian flesh. You're all so exquisite, gifts from the goddess made to be enjoyed. But we like to keep our men in the family." She stared at his neck, and he could almost feel the spot warming. "You Bellarissians are untrustworthy. No doubt you'll try to run away again, and we can't have you running about unmarked, a temptation for any Cantaran slut in a mating fever." She licked her thumb and stroked it across his jugular. Morgan jerked, but didn't step back. It would take more than this wanton old woman to intimidate him, he told himself. He just didn't want her touching him. Her hand returned to his chest, open palmed, caressing. "You'll need a collar, of course, but collars can be removed. No, you need something permanent. Something that will declare ownership for all to see even if you manage to get as far as your precious Bellariss." Turning her head, Kendra snapped her fingers. The young slave came running and fell to his knees at her feet. "Fetch Ariana's case." The slave returned only a moment later with a black lacquered box in his hands. He knelt, holding the box above his head like an offering to the gods. "Kneel." Morgan's gaze locked on Kendra's. What did she intend? "Kneel!" He shook his head. He wasn't about to kneel before her, or anyone else. He was a crown prince, for the god's sake. Only his mother deserved that tribute, and she'd never allowed it--not even in court. With just an angry jerk of her head, Kendra's sentries flanked him, forcing him to his knees. With his arms spread and agonizing pressure against the joints of his shoulders, Morgan couldn't move. He couldn't even look up to glare at her. The sound of a small ping, followed by a steady whine, sent him struggling anew. The pressure on his shoulders increased, and his wrists were yanked higher. Morgan gasped, trying to ignore the pain. He wondered where Ariana was. Why wasn't she here? Why wasn't she stopping this? Kendra's long-nailed fingers fisted his hair, yanking his head to the side.

He saw an orange glow move past his cheek and then--Gods! His neck was on fire! She let go of him, but his flesh still burned. Gods above, what had she done to him? He had to get free. He had to stop the burning. He struggled against their hold on him, against the pain. "Be still!" He heard a hiss then a cool spray doused the heat of the burn, bringing the pain down to a bearable level. A cold band of metal wrapped around his neck. The click of the clasp catching echoed as loudly as a cell door slamming shut on a condemned prisoner. "Let him go." The second they released him, he flung himself as far away as he could. Bitch! He glared at her, clenching his fists. For the first time in his life, he had an overwhelming desire to hurt a woman--this woman. "Maybe I'll keep you for myself." She stepped closer to him, her voice a throaty purr. Gods, was she insane? Didn't she realize that she took her own life into her hands by coming near him now? Something in her gaze changed, ensnared his, drawing him in. His breath caught, his heartbeat quickening as she drew closer. He couldn't look away. Something told him that he should try, but her scent wafted up to him, teasing him. He felt himself harden with need as images of Ariana, soft and pliant in his arms, flitted across his mind. "Ariana won't mind if I sample what you have to offer," she whispered, then her lips pressed against his, demanding a response. Morgan jerked away, shaking himself out of his stupor. She wasn't Ariana. He didn't want her. He didn't want this. "Are you worried about what Ariana will say?" She advanced on him. "Don't. We believe in keeping our men within the family. That means we share. Why, Jomar, over there, was Ariana's first." Morgan stiffened, his gaze unwillingly moving to the man lying on the rug at the foot of her large bed, his toga barely covering his muscular frame. He didn't want to know this. He didn't want to know who Ariana had lain with before him. Kendra used Morgan's distraction to yank open the front of his coveralls. "Blessed Sheena, look at you!" She ran her hand over his scarred chest. "I love a battle-scarred man. You have your share, don't you?"

He tried to back away, but she held the gaping fabric tight in her fist. "I want you, and I will have you." She raised her other palm and blew, sending some kind of powder into his face. Morgan choked, struggling for breath, but the action only drew the substance deeper into his lungs. The red haze of lust clouded his mind, hardened his body. Drugged. She drugged him. Ah, gods, not again. He didn't want this. He didn't want her. But his body didn't agree with what his mind was telling it. It painfully demanded that he find release. Now. "Come to me," Kendra urged, yanking the clasp that held her filmy gown together at her shoulder. It slithered to the floor, baring her youthful-looking form to his gaze. Morgan groaned silently as Ariana's image transposed over Kendra's. {Oh, Ariana.} Crushing her in his embrace, he granted her access to his mouth. The taste was wrong. Spicy, not sweet. Her frenzied hands yanked his coveralls down his arms, then shoved them past his hips. She rubbed her pelvis against his hard length, her beaded nipples brushing his chest. Morgan gasped into her mouth. "You like that, don't you," She whispered against his lips. She rubbed against him again. "I have more for you. Much more." She pulled him over to the bed and pushed him to sit. Her quick, skillful hands removed his boots then dragged his coveralls from his legs. Her fingers curled around him, then a second later, her moist lips drew him into her hot, wet mouth. Morgan's breath caught in his throat, his head dropping back as his fingers tangled in her hair. A hairpin jabbed his thumb. His eyes flew open. Ah, gods, what am I doing? This is wrong. This is all wrong. I don't want this. I don't want her. She's not Ariana. As if she'd felt the change in him, Kendra propelled herself at him, knocking him onto his back as she straddled his hips. Her wet flesh slid across him, finding the throbbing hard tip of him. No! He shoved her off of him and rolled out of her grasp only to find Ariana standing there, staring at them. He stiffened, causing Kendra to turn. "He's quite a handful, Ariana. How do you manage to keep him satisfied?" She lay back, oblivious of her nudity, and had the audacity to

reach out and stroke his thigh. "Apparently, I don't." Ariana's gaze fixed briefly on his blatantly aroused state before settling on Kendra. "Did you enjoy yourself?" "I was. Your timing leaves something to be desired." "I'm sorry I interrupted." Ariana's tone was cool as her gaze flitted over him, pausing briefly on the collar. No, it's not true. She wouldn't do this to him, wouldn't share him with her own mother. But she didn't look the least bit surprised about seeing him in her mother's bed, nor did she seem surprised about his neck. Had she ordered him branded and collared like an animal? A pet? A pain in his chest, in the vicinity of his heart, flared and rapidly grew as he came to the realization that she must have wanted to see him humiliated this way, just the way the other Jotnar women had humiliated him. Gods, he should never have confided in her. Memories, old and new, sent a wave a shame surging through him. This was his punishment for pushing her too far, for betraying her trust, for not having the sense to protect his heart. She'd made him her slave, for real this time and, gods help him, he still loved her. They flew back to the base in silence. Ariana ignored him, sitting with her back to him while she stared out the window. When the ship finally landed on the platform, and she rose and headed for the door, Morgan thought she was going to walk off without a word. He was wrong. "It was all a lie, wasn't it?" Ariana glared down at him. "All that nonsense about never desiring anyone but me for the rest of your life. Lies! As soon as my back was turned, you not only approached my best friend, you seduced my mother!" With his wrists shackled behind his back, Morgan did nothing except stare back at her. He wasn't buying into this jealous nonsense, not after everything that had been said and done. "Nothing to say for yourself?" When he didn't reply, she clenched her fists. "Fine! Have it your way." She turned toward the guards. "Take him to the yard." Turning on her heel, her back rigid, she strode down the ramp of the transport not waiting to see her orders carried out. "Come on, Your Highness. Let's go," Corbin pulled Morgan to his feet. Did she think this would hurt him? She was wrong. Nothing she did now could hurt him anymore than she already had. If her true goal was to

see the Bellarissian crown prince broken, she'd succeeded. As they prodded him down the ramp, he acknowledged that he just didn't care anymore. Not about whether he lived or died. Not about whether she loved him or not. Not about whether he'd ever see his home again. Maybe it would be better if he didn't return. His people didn't need a mute king. His people didn't need a ruler who was shamed to his very soul--so ashamed that he couldn't bear the sight of his own reflection. Bellarissian monarchs had all had one thing in common--purity. Pure of heart. Pure of body. Pure of soul. Morgan wasn't any of those things, not anymore. Maybe Drake had the right idea. Maybe, when it was all over, he'd just disappear. The guards brought him to a stop at the entrance to the yard. Lt. Caffy guarded the gate. "What's this?" Caffy confused expression turned into a pleased smile as he took in Morgan's collar and shackles. "I guess you could say that the Administrator is a bit out of sorts today," Corbin said. "She wants him with the other slaves tonight." "Is that so?" "Take good care of him," Corbin warned. "She won't want to find him damaged after she's had time to cool off." Caffy nodded and grabbed Morgan's arm. Head bowed, Morgan ignored the curious stares and whispers that came his way as Caffy lead him over to an unoccupied bench in the corner of the yard. "Guess you really pissed her off, didn't you?" Caffy gave Morgan a shove, forcing him to sit. "Never thought I'd see the day when she'd collar and shackle a slave. Yep," he chuckled, "you must have pissed her off good." Caffy aimed the shackle control at Morgan, releasing the field that held his wrists tightly together behind his back. "Now, you stay here and behave yourself. Wouldn't want to see you get beat again." Caffy barked out a laugh. Rubbing his aching shoulders with numb fingers, Morgan did nothing more than watch him walk away. Caffy almost seemed disappointed that he hadn't reacted. Sighing, he leaned back against the fence and drew up his knees. He dragged a weary hand through his hair, wincing slightly when he touched

a tender spot on his scalp. Kendra had yanked his hair hard. He was surprised that he didn't feel a bald spot. Not wanting to think about Kendra, or her daughter, he draped his arms across his knees and closed his eyes, hoping to shut them both out of his mind along with the burning pain on his neck. His solitude didn't last long. "Morgan, what are you doing in here?" He opened his eyes at the same moment Chekron's gaze locked on the collar around his neck. "What happened to you? Why is your neck red?" {Burned,} Morgan whispered, careful not to hurt Chekron too badly with his mental intrusion, then rubbed the painful spot above the collar. Chekron barely winced from the telepathy as he pulled Morgan's hand away. "Drekking bitch! She's going to pay!" "Calm down, cripple." A guard pointed his shackle control at Chekron. His legs gave out, and he collapsed in the dirt. Morgan picked him up and set him on the bench. "She won't get away with it. She won't get away with branding you like a blasted steer." Chekron shrugged off Morgan's hold, and glared at the retreating back of the guard. He fiddled with his braces for a moment, then was able to straighten and bend his legs. Morgan pulled out his pad and wrote Ariana didn't do this. Her mother did. But she's responsible, isn't she? Chekron glanced at the pad and shoved it away. "She didn't stop it, did she? Just like she didn't stop Grader from doing this to me!" He smacked his useless legs. Morgan shook his head. It doesn't matter. Just leave her be. "It does matter, Morgan," Chekron whispered, glancing around to make sure no one overheard him. "What happens to you matters very much to billions of people. You've given us hope again." No. If that were true, my capture would have crushed any hopes of freedom those people had. "You're wrong. I've heard things since Rico was here. You gave your word. Everyone knows that whether you're alive or dead, your people well see your promises carried out. That type of loyalty inspires trust. Now the entire rebellion wants to see you lead the Federation into freedom." Morgan shook his head. That life isn't for me anymore. Too much has happened. The stylus stilled in his hand as he squeezed his eyes shut

against the pain. Chekron read the pad and scowled. "There's obviously no point in talking to you right now. You're buried too deeply in your own self pity." He stood on shaky legs and glared down at Morgan. It wasn't pity. It was the gods' truth, and he refused to let Chekron bait him. He wasn't some blasted galactic role model. The sooner these people realized that he was no better than they were, the better off they'd all be. He closed his eyes and heard Chekron sigh. "What kind of king gives up the fight when things get a little rough?" Jerking himself to his feet, Morgan glared into Chekron's eyes. { I haven't given up the fight, damn it! I've just re-evaluated where I'll be when it's over.} Chekron stumbled back, his hands clutching his head. Drek! {I'm sorry,} Morgan whispered. Chekron raised his head, his silver eyes glaring at him for a long moment, then turned and walked away. Wonderful, Morgan. The man tries to talk some sense into you, and you send pain slicing through his head. No wonder you don't have any friends. Disgusted with himself, Morgan strode off to the corner of the fence and dropped down to sit in the dirt, determined to do nothing more offensive than stare at his dusty boots. The dinner hour came and went. Nobody bothered him, so he didn't feel the need to move--until three pairs of boots entered his line of vision. "You finished?" Chekron was back, and he wasn't alone. He'd brought Gar and Kerok with him. Morgan nodded. He was done with feeling sorry for himself, but his fate had been decided for him months ago. He could not be king, nor would he lead the Federation. They crouched around him. Gar swore beneath his breath as he tended Morgan's burn with the small med-kit he pulled from his pocket. Chekron grinned at him like an idiot. And Kerok--he dropped a package in Morgan's lap. "This came for you early this morning." Morgan knew without asking what the package contained. Drake had delivered as promised. And, as he saw the women enter the yard to choose their evening companions, he realized that Ariana had done him a favor by putting him in here. He quickly laid out his plan to the three of them and had just passed Chekron a small box of the disks when he saw a

woman approaching them. "Chekron," she purred, sliding her fingers into his thick dark hair. "Come with me?" "Darlin'," Chekron drawled, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Have I got something special for you." He turned and led her toward the barracks, glancing over his shoulder to give them a sly wink. Morgan grinned and moved back to his bench. It would be an interesting night. Ariana startled awake, surprised to find that she'd fallen asleep at her desk. It was nearly dawn. When she'd left Morgan on the transport, she'd gone directly to her office, putting off her questioning staff, and had taken care of her promise to Kari. Then she'd dropped her head to her desk and cried--for hours. She'd cried over why things had gotten so bad between them. Over why they hadn't been born under different circumstances. Over why she couldn't go back and do things differently. Over why she couldn't seem to contain his interest. Over why he refused to trust her. Finally, she'd had enough and reached for the com, determined to end their suffering. Her broker had been surprised that she'd contacted him regarding another ‘sale' so quickly. He'd also balked at taking the risk so soon. Offering to double his normal commission quickly changed his mind. Now, it was done. Granted, this way wasn't as secretive as she'd planned, the Jotnar could easily discover her involvement, but she was desperate to see an end to their pain. Now she had. The only thing she had left to do was to get that blasted collar off him and see to it that his last few days here were comfortable. He'd suffered enough--they both had. The com beeped. With a weary sigh, Ariana reached out and flipped it on. "Yes?" "Administrator, thank the goddess! I've been searching for you everywhere. You'd better come right away. Twenty slaves disappeared from the yard, and Commander Grader thinks your slave is responsible."

Chapter 13

As soon as the lift deposited her on the ground floor, Ariana sprinted out the door of the complex, careful not to lose her footing in the pre-dawn darkness, and ran all the way to the yard. The yard and the area surrounding it was ablaze with light. Guards ran every which way conducting building searches. Transports flew over head, no doubt beginning a ground search for the missing slaves. When she reached the gate, the man standing guard immediately stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She forced her way through the milling crowd of base guards and employees to find the bulk of the slaves being held off by armed Elroodian guards holding laz-rifles. A group of twenty or so slaves knelt in the center of the yard with their hands on their heads. They'd obviously been in that position for a long while. Their bodies trembled from the effort it took to remain upright. Ariana had no trouble picking Morgan from the group, not with Grader standing over him. Her gaze locked on the band of gold around his neck, glowing like a beacon under the bright lights. She should have removed it the moment she'd seen that her mother had put it on him. If only she hadn't been so angry. As if he'd felt her glance, Morgan looked up at her, then dropped his gaze back to the dirt in front of him. Too ashamed to face her, no doubt. He should be ashamed, she thought, as an image of her mother straddling his hips entered her mind. She suppressed a repulsed shudder, and forced it away. An echoing tremor ran through his large body. Ah, Morgan, how did we get to this point? She wanted to know what was going on in that stubborn male brain of his, but his feelings were still closed off to her. Even so, he had to be as uncomfortable as the others were, kneeling there like that. "What's going on here?" She strode up to Grader. He turned to face her, his smile too wide, his eyes too bright. He didn't look well. His white skin was paler than normal, almost waxen. The dark circles beneath his eyes made them look sunken. His normally meticulous hair stood on end, and his uniform was wrinkled and filthy. She'd never seen him in such a disastrous state. "Are you ill, Commander?" He tugged self-consciously at his uniform coat. "I haven't been sleeping well."

"Really?" He didn't seem the type to lose sleep over the loss of a slave. Could he have possibly cared for Vita? Somehow, she didn't think so, not if what Morgan said was true. "Would you care to enlighten me as to why you've got my slave kneeling in the dirt?" Morgan didn't react to her callus words, not a flinch, not even a glare. It was as if he hadn't heard her. For some reason, that disappointed her. "Yesterday, Vita disappears. Today, he's in the yard and twenty more slaves vanish, disappearing without a trace. I'd say he's involved, and if I didn't know better, I'd say you were too." "I'd be careful, Commander, exceedingly careful about accusing a superior officer of treasonous activities." Ariana's fingers curled, her nails biting into her palms. The urge to steal a glance of Morgan was great, but she forced herself not to. "Now, I'd like to see your evidence." Grader stammered, his face reddening. "You do have evidence, don't you? I find it hard to believe that twenty people could escape from a heavily guarded compound without leaving some clue as to how they did it." Grader and Ariana stared at each other for several moments before Grader finally shook his head. "We don't know how they got out." "I'll need a list of names to send to Command. When I notify them of this mess, they'll expect an explanation. You'd better find one." Ariana held out her hand. "Let's go, Morgan." "No!" Grader grabbed her hand. Morgan leapt to his feet and instantly faced more than a dozen blaster pistols and laz-rifles. So, he was paying attention. She was glad to see that he still cared something for her, even if it was only to keep Grader from manhandling her. "Stand down!" Morgan reluctantly moved back, and the guards lowered their weapons. "He's not going anywhere," Grader growled, releasing her as he glared at Morgan. "None of them are moving until I find out how those slaves got out of here. Someone had to see something." "Morgan, do you know what happened?" Ariana hoped he'd just shake his head, that he'd deny his involvement so she could take him and go. Lie, Morgan. Please lie. He stared at her, unblinking, unmoving, completely expressionless.

Blast you, Morgan! Do you want to die? Every time she questioned whether she was too harsh in her judgement of him, every time she doubted his involvement, something happened and she had to reevaluate everything. Damn his stubborn hide! Couldn't he lie? One little lie that would save them both a lot of grief, and him a lot of pain? Couldn't he trust her enough to ask for help? Couldn't he give her the chance to make arrangements that would keep them both clear of suspicion? "He refuses to deny it! I'd call that proof that he was involved." Grader declared, his sunken eyes taking on an insane light as a triumphant sneer slashed the lower half of his face. "I understand that he can write. Perhaps another trip to interrogation--" "No." She didn't care what Morgan had been accused of doing, he wouldn't suffer that again. "Administrator," a guard stepped forward, "Those slaves went into the barracks and never came out. He wasn't anywhere near them all night." Ariana's eyes narrowed. She recognized this man. She'd seen him just last night in Nikita's office. If she had needed any more proof of Morgan's involvement in this mess, she now had it. "Why didn't you inform Commander Grader of this?" "I did, Administrator. The commander chose to disregard my statement." Lt. Caffy stepped forward, looking as if it were the last thing in the world he wanted to do. "It's the truth. I don't like this uppity slave, but I won't lie. He sat on that bench over there damned near the whole night." He pointed off into the far corner of the yard. Nods and murmurs of agreement came from the guards surrounding them, perhaps prompted by the bravery of the two men who'd dared to speak against their commander. "Is there anything to implicate him or the others?" Ariana didn't bother to hide the impatience in her voice as her hand swept toward the men and women still on their knees. "No, Administrator." "Then I see little point in making them suffer this way. Get them to their beds." "But Administrator, it's dawn. They should be getting ready for their assignments," one guard protested.

Ariana shook her head. "They're exhausted, all of them." Her gesture including the slaves held at gunpoint as well. "They'll do us little good without proper rest. And, in light of last night's activities, I believe it would be wise to keep them in the yard today." "Administrator!" The crowd parted, allowing the breathless guard through. "The slaves in the cargo bay disappeared." Ariana's heart skipped a beat. Her gaze automatically jerked to Morgan just in time to see him exchange glances with the dark-haired slave beside him. Clenching her jaw, she turned back to the panting guard. "What happened?" "There was a fight. We turned to watch--um, break it up, and the next thing we knew, they were gone." "And the two that were fighting?" "They disappeared when we were looking for the others. It's the strangest thing...none of the alarms went off. They just vanished." "Blast," Ariana muttered beneath her breath. She didn't need this now! She'd just straightened things out with the Prime, and now people were disappearing in quantity. "Well, then, I guess we don't need to search for further proof that any of these people were involved in the escapes. We're obviously dealing with something we can't explain. Go on, get them to their beds." With a nod, the guard named Gar, according to his name badge, moved off to start clearing the yard. "I want a complete search of the area. If twenty people walked out of here, you should be able to find something. And you," she turned to the cargo bay guard, "I want a complete sweep of the complex building. It's possible that they found a way around the alarms and are hiding somewhere inside." Grader stalked off as the guards flocked around her for orders. What had he expected? That she'd let him run off and tell the Prime that she'd done nothing about the escapes? If she wanted to retain her position, of course she'd make all the correct responses. At the same time, she couldn't blame the slaves for wanting their freedom. If she was in their position and had the chance to run, she'd grab it with both hands. But, the terrain surrounding their mountain was dangerous, full of sinkholes and wild animals. Without food, weapons, or the proper

equipment, they wouldn't make it as far as Mt. Cerberos alive. And that was only twenty kilometers away. Sighing, she turned back to the clamor surrounding her. Soon, all the extra guards had either returned to their stations, or had been sent off with new assignments, leaving her to deal with Morgan-and deal with him she would! ~*~ Ariana may have appeared calm and in control on the outside, but inside she was seething with fury, and Morgan knew it. "Let's go." She turned and walked away, no doubt expecting him to follow her orders without question as her guards had. He did, careful to keep two steps behind her the whole walk back to her quarters. He expected her to turn on him, angry and demanding answers, the moment they stepped through that door. Instead, she went straight into her bedroom. He followed her and remained close to the door. When she started yanking off her fitted white and black Jotnar uniform, he had to look away. The mere thought of her creamy flesh sent a shaft of pain lancing through his body. Gods, he wanted her. Even after being collared, branded, he wanted to lose himself in the depths of her softness. Damn that blasted bond! She didn't turn to face him until she'd knotted the sash of her silken robe around her narrow waist. "I want an explanation." She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Now." Morgan stared back at her, saying nothing. Did she think he was a fool? He wouldn't admit anything to her. How could he? She'd just sent half the base searching for the escapees. Damn her for being Jotnar, and damn him for wanting her anyway. Ariana stared at him, waiting. Blast her, what did want from him? He remembered how she swore to him that he wasn't her slave, that she'd prove it if he came back to her. She only spoke those pretty words to get what she'd wanted; he bore the proof of that on his neck and wrists. Now she expected him to betray the other slaves for her? Give them up for punishment such as he'd received? Or to have their legs butchered like Chekron's? He wouldn't do it. He rolled his shoulders, trying force the angry stiffness from his body, but also to relieve the pain still bunching his muscles from holding his arms above his head all night. An involuntary groan escaped him. His heart skipped a beat. Was that a sound, or only in his mind?

Ariana flinched, as if upset by seeing his pain. As she stared at him, her expression softened, and her eyes grew watery. A shuddering breath escaped her, sounding as if it came from the depths of her soul. A tear slipped from her eye, trailing down her soft cheek to splash on the delicate pink silk of her robe. "I can't do this anymore. I can't protect you if I don't know what's going on." {I don't want you to protect me.} "That's obvious." She impatiently brushed away another tear. "I'm done, finished. I can't take this anymore, and neither can you." Morgan stiffened, preparing himself for the worst. She's going to give him to her mother. "In four days, you'll be transferred by shuttle to a transport headed for Bellariss. You're going home." His breath hissed out in relief. {No.} "Yes! Blast you! Haven't you suffered enough? You won't trust me enough to help you, so I'll only end up hurting you time and time again. I don't want that, and you can't take much more. You must go home." Morgan's throat tightened at the sight of her pain. Anger he could handle. Her tears pulled at his heart. He ached to reach out to her, to comfort her, but he couldn't. Not now. Not after everything that had been said and done. But the slaves still had a chance if he could get them all out of harm's way. {I can't go.} She sobbed, turning her back on him. "Don't you realize that I love you?" she cried. "Hasn't that gotten through to your thick skull yet? I can't stand aside and watch you get yourself killed." Morgan stared at her back, struck dumb with shock. It quickly turned to anger. After what she'd done to him yesterday, how could she even make that claim? She sounded so sincere. Brinna had sounded sincere too when she'd told him she loved him. {Oh, you're good. Really good. I think you missed your calling.} His words seemed to slowly penetrate her misery. Her breath hitched slightly, then she turned to face him. "What calling?" {Not many actresses can turn their tears on and off at will like that. I'm impressed.} Anger slowly transformed her. Her shoulders straightened then her back became as rigid as a plasteel beam. "I'm an actress?" The question came out slowly, almost casual in tone, but her eyes blazed with fury.

{How can you claim to love me after what you've done?} "What have I done to you, Morgan?" Her fingers curled into fists as she slowly approached him. "Let's see ..I've risked my friend's job, and my own, to get you into that bio-bed and save your life. Yes, I can see where that might be a problem. Oh!" She raised her hand as if she'd just had a brilliant idea. "I've covered for you each and every time you've confronted Grader. That's a problem too." Her eyes narrowed. "But then, if you weren't too damned stubborn to protect your own hide that wouldn't have been necessary, would it?" {Ariana--} Her glare silenced him, then she strode right up to him, so close that he could feel her aura touch him. "I committed treason for you by arranging your escape," she whispered furiously, then stepped back crossing her arms. "Oh, I can tell I've put you through hell and back!" Yes, damn it! She'd done all that for him but it didn't erase the hurt she'd caused him. How could she possibly think it would? Was it possible that she didn't know how deeply she'd pierced his heart when she gave him to her mother with no regard of his feelings? She had to know! He'd practically had a breakdown in front of her. How could she think after all he'd told her that he was the type to take sex where he found it? They wouldn't have had to play that game with him if he was. She knew that! No, he'd made her angry, so she'd purposely set out to humiliate him. It was glaringly obvious, and he wouldn't let her deny it. {What about the rest, Ariana? Aren't you forgetting some very important things? Like the fact that you shared me with your mother?} His accusation slammed through Ariana's mind with the force of an enraged kavork bull. He actually thought she'd willingly let that bitch near him? How could he believe in his blasted bond, and think that she'd do something like that to him? She had to know, so she asked. Morgan's mental barrier came crashing down, flooding her with anguish so strong, so potent, it thickened her throat and brought fresh tears to her eyes. Anguish tempered by a flaming anger that licked across the thread that bound them, burning her clear to her soul. "Dear goddess," she whispered. "Why are you doing this to yourself? If you only trusted me--" {Why the hell should I trust you? Because of this?} He held up his shackled wrists. {Or this?} He flicked the gold band resting on his

collarbone. {Or maybe this?} He grabbed her hand and placed it on his neck, the skin still tender and overly warm to the touch. {Yes, I think this is a really good reason to trust you.} Ariana paled, her mouth dropping open with shock. Her hand trembled against his skin. "Oh, goddess," she whispered. "Oh, goddess, I'm sorry. I didn't know she did that." She turned away from him. "No wonder you hate me." {I don't hate you.} He should, but couldn't. She didn't seem to hear him. "I would have taken the collar off immediately, but I was so angry about...about finding you together. I swear, I didn't know she was going to do any of that. I didn't even know you were with her until I came back to the room and found you gone." {Ariana--} "I never would have let her hurt you." She turned to face him, her palm hesitantly reaching out to touch the burn. "Dear goddess, I should have destroyed that kit instead of refusing it. Damn her cold heart! I should have known she'd do something when she found out I brought a man home with me. Now my stupidity has caused you to suffer again. I deserve your contempt, not your trust." Her fingers clenched, then dropped to his wrists, trembling as she removed his shackles. They fell to the carpet with a muffled clank. Gods, he wanted to believe her, his blasted heart demanded it, but she was Jotnar! How could he tell her everything? She'd be duty-bound to report what she knew, and it would all be over. Unless... {Tell me why you serve the Jotnar.} "What?" Ariana pulled back, confusion marring her beautiful face. {If you want me to be truthful with you, you have to do the same.} Surprisingly, she didn't hesitate. "The Cantaran/Jotnar Treaty demands twenty years of service from the first-born of every Cantaran family. My older brother died when we were children, so the responsibility fell to me. I owe them ten more years." {Not for long.} The Jotnar Alliance would soon be disbanded, and all their contracts voided. "Why?" she asked in a breathless whisper. {How do you feel about the Sullust Federation?} Ariana's eyes widened. Her mouth opened to speak, but she hesitated, her gaze darting around the room as if she were worried about being

overheard. Then instead of replying, she reached around his neck to unfasten the collar, her fingers soothing the chafed skin on his neck. She's stalling, he realized, as her lips replaced her fingers, pressing gentle kisses against the stinging welt that had irritated the scar across his throat. His body didn't care that it was a stall-tactic. It responded with a leap of fire. A soft groan escaped him. Then she stepped back, stooping to retrieve the fallen shackles. Not meeting his gaze, she turned and walked over to the recycler, tossing the shackles and the collar into the machine. "The Sullust Federation? How do I feel about it?" She whirled to face him, sparks flaring in her eyes. "I think they were completely insane for accepting the Jotnar into the Federation in the first place. Letting in such an aggressive race was suicide." She marched across the room and stopped in front of him. "Is there a purpose to this line of questioning?" {If the Federation were to regain power--} "If they've managed to learn their lesson, I would rejoice. But can they do it? They'd need your planet's advanced technology to even have a chance. Not that Bellariss would actually get involved. They've already proven that they'd pull out at the first sign of opposition, leaving innocent people at the mercy of the Jotnar." {Not get involved?} Clenching his fists, Morgan glared at her. {Do you think I left Bellariss on a pleasure cruise?} "How should I know why you left? Why are we even discussing this?" She paced in front of him, her hands waving in agitated jerks as she spoke. "Rumors of the Bellarissians leading the people into rebellion have been circulating since the beginning of the alliance. But that's all they are, rumors. You people don't care about us. You just want to be left alone on your safe little world." Taking her attack on his people personally, as she'd no doubt intended, Morgan glared at her, struggling not to lay hands on her and shake some sense into her. This was it, the final test. She'd either join him, or betray him. {The rebellion is a reality, sweetheart. My people invade in eight days.} His words stunned Ariana so badly she tripped over her own feet. But she recovered quickly, turning to face him. His gaze strayed to her heaving, silk-covered chest, watching the way it rose and fell with each agitated breath. He forced his gaze back to hers. {Now you know. My life is in your hands. How long a life it is depends on

you. I won't betray my people, or the rebellion. I'll die first.} She slapped him. "You kept this from me? You idiot! I could have been helping you." When she tried to slap him again, Morgan wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the pain in his strained shoulder muscles, and struggled to keep her immobile. This woman had more backbone than half the men he knew, yet because he ticked her off, she resorted to squirming, kicking, and screaming. Pulling out a blaster and shooting him would have been more in character, not this typical female behavior. The irony was too much for Morgan. He laughed. "Did I just hear you laugh?" She asked in a hushed whisper. Morgan's heart skipped a beat. She'd heard it. Gods above, he'd made another sound! He tried to answer her but no sound came. "Do you know what this means?" She squeezed his hands. {That the gods like to play cruel jokes on us mere mortals?} Morgan failed to keep his bitter disappointment from coloring his words. "No, it means that your voice is coming back." Her words, her smile, gave him hope. Then her gaze became troubled. "Why didn't you tell me, Morgan?" {How could I? You implied that you'd do anything to save your position.} "I was trying to protect the slaves, not my position! I thought you understood that." She lightly butted his chest with her forehead, then slipped her arms around his waist. {I couldn't risk being wrong, Ariana, not with so many lives at stake. But, now that I know, I could use your help.} "Anything," she whispered, and looked up at him. Her eyes darkened, and her tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip. Time seemed to be caught in slow motion as Morgan's gaze followed her tongue's slow, sensuous movement. His body hardened instantly. He hauled her up against him, his lips devouring hers. His shoulders protested, drawing an agonized hiss through his lips. "What's wrong?" {My shoulders, I--} "You poor thing!" She pulled back and kneaded his shoulders with her gentle fingers. "How long did he have you kneeling there with your hands

on your head?" Morgan shrugged, then winced. "Come on." She took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom. "I know something that will fix you right up." His gaze fixed on her swaying hips, the silk fabric of her robe clinging and teasing as it slid across her buttocks. The seductive display hardened him to the point of pain. Blast! He didn't want a shower--he wanted her. And, he wasn't the only one aroused. He felt it coiling inside her, the fire building. Just as he was about to tell her that the shower could wait, she stopped in front of that strange cubicle. Her hands slid up his chest, one slipping behind his neck to pull him down for a kiss. While she kissed him senseless--her tongue teasing, stroking, gliding--her nimble fingers worked the fasteners down the front of his coveralls. He yanked his arms out of the sleeves, not breaking the kiss, and pulled her against his naked chest. Her nipples teased him through the thin silk of her robe. Then, her hands stroked down to his waist. A second later, his coveralls dropped to his ankles, and her soft hand wrapped around him. Morgan groaned silently into her mouth, bringing his hand up to cup her breast. It wasn't enough, he wanted more. Parting her robe with a yank, he tore his lips from her luscious mouth and moved them to suckle her nipple. She sighed, her fingers scraping across his scalp as they slid into his hair and held on. He moved his lips to her other breast, teasing the hard little bead with his tongue. She pressed firmly against his shoulders and stepped back. {Ariana--} "I can wait." She tugged her robe closed. {I can't.} She evaded his grasp. "Trust me, it will be worth it." She slipped her arm behind him and opened the door. "Have you ever used a vapor chamber before?" Morgan sighed, consoling himself to the fact that he wouldn't get her to do what he wanted until she got what she wanted first. {No, I've never heard of it.} Ariana reached in and retrieved a small pair of goggles and a breathing apparatus. She handed them to him. "Put these on. The control is over

here. When you're ready, just start it and let it run its course. When it's finished, you'll feel good as new, and I'll be waiting." Her eyes slowly ran down the length of him, leaving no doubt of what she expected when he'd finished, then she turned and walked out the door. Morgan stripped off his boots and coveralls, donned the goggles and breather, then stepped into the stall. He saw the handrails on all three walls and again wondered their purpose. Shrugging, he closed the door and started the sequence. A heavy mist rose up out of the floor, swirling around him, up his legs and torso like a dense liquid. He gasped, grabbing hold of the railings, as the mist invaded his pores and continued up his body like millions of hot searing tongues licking at his body. The feeling was so arousing that his body instantly responded. In his mind's eye it was Ariana performing this erotic torture. He groaned. The mist traveled farther up his body, drawing the dirt from his very soul, pulling the pain from his muscles, easing the pain in his heart. His scalp tingled as his hair was stripped clean from root to end. He trembled from the effort to stand as the vapor continued for several long minutes more. Then the air cleared, and he was able to see a green light flashing on the control. He burst out of the chamber, ripping the goggles and breather from his face. He gasped for breath, leaning back against the chamber for support. Gods, he had it bad. If Ariana were to walk in here this moment, she'd find herself stripped and mounted right on the cold tile floor. Then, as if his mind had conjured her, he saw her leaning against the water basin, watching him in the mirror.

Chapter 14 Ariana gripped the counter tightly, watching through the mirror as Morgan exited the chamber and leaned back against the door. She'd never seen him more aroused. His throbbing erection actually looked longer, thicker than usual. She imagined what he'd feel like inside her and the fire simmering in her belly flared to life, making her legs weak and shaky. His dark, passion-filled eyes met hers in the reflection, practically devouring her with their intensity. When he walked up behind her, she had to remind herself to breathe. When his hands reached around to cup her silk-covered breasts, she moaned with need.

Morgan slid the robe up her hips, then used the bunched material to pull her back toward him. Before she could beg him to hurry, he plunged into her from behind, forcing a startled gasp from her lips. She gripped the counter tightly, her knuckles turning white, as she reveled in the feelings he sent surging through her. She'd never felt anything as erotic as this. Her gaze flew back to the mirror, watching him, his face distorted in sweet agony as he thrust in and out of her. A tremor ran through her. She clenched her thighs in response. Morgan groaned into her mind, his fingers digging into her hips. Her moans joined his as the tension in her belly coiled tighter and tighter, leading her toward the end she so desperately wanted. Just as she neared the edge, she felt him tense. His gaze caught hers and the depth of his impassioned stare sent her plummeting over the edge. Morgan's enraptured cry reverberated through her mind, sending a heady feeling of triumph pulsing through her veins. He drooped against her, the dampness of his chest making her robe stick to her back. Ariana squirmed. She couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled up in her throat from escaping. {What?} "You're sweaty." She squirmed until he straightened, allowing her to turn and face him. He chuckled, and she could swear she heard the soft sound pass through his lips, not through her mind. {Woman, you're hell on a man's ego.} As she looked into his laughing eyes, she couldn't help smiling back. "It was wonderful, but I wouldn't want that ego to get so swollen that it pinched the blood-flow to your brain." {Is that so?} A challenging light brightened his eyes. She was so mesmerized by his beautiful eyes, that she was surprised when her robe dropped around her feet. When had he unknotted sash? His finger trailed the valley between her breasts, making her shiver. His breath whispered across her ear just a second before his teeth grazed her lobe. {You seem to be a bit sweaty yourself. I think we need a shower.} Ariana's heart pounded erratically as he pulled her the few steps to the shower. In moments, she was under the warm pulsing water with Morgan's slick, hard body pressed against her.

Feeling his hands moving behind her, she jerked. "What are you doing?" Morgan grinned wickedly, showing her his hands. He was only lathering up a sponge. But as she watched his fingers knead the soap into that bit of sponge, she started to imagine those fingers kneading parts of her body. She couldn't seem to look away. He suddenly thrust the sponge into her hand, startling her. By reflex, her fingers closed around it. She raised her eyebrow in question, and he smiled, his even white teeth unusually bright in the dim shower stall. {You wash my back, and I'll wash yours.} Ariana moaned a protest against whatever it was that tried to draw her awake. There it was again, at her breast, tickling her nipple. She slowly opened her eyes a crack and saw Morgan teasing her with the corner of the satin sheet, a charming grin gracing his handsome face. {It's about time you woke up, sleepy head. I was getting ready to do something drastic.} Ariana smiled and stretched, trying to work the sleepiness from her body. The movement thrust her breasts up, grabbing his attention. "Like what?" Her voice was so throaty, it nearly purred. He didn't answer. Instead, he lowered his head to draw her nipple into his mouth, rolling the hard little nub with his tongue. She gasped, holding his head there, and wondered if anyone had ever died from too much incredible sex. Her heart was beating so hard, she wondered if it could just stop under the stress. "But what a way to go." He lifted his head. {What did you say?} She met his puzzled look with a smile. "I was thinking that if you were trying to kill me, this is a wonderful way to do it." Laughing silently, he hugged her then pulled away. {I guess I have been a bit overzealous, but at least I was able to teach you a few new uses for soap.} Ariana's face filled with heat. He smiled at her, tenderly trailing the tip of his finger down her cheek and across her jaw, sending a shiver through her from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. The look in his eyes was so warm and loving that she would be more than content just to lie here and stare at him all day. What was she thinking? She only had eight days left with him. Did she dare waste any of

it simply looking at him? {How about some breakfast to give you back some of that energy your lacking?} "What time is it?" she mumbled, forcing her gaze away from his and looked at the chronometer. She gasped, sitting up. "It's past midday. Goddess preserve us, I can't lay abed all day. We've got too much to do." {You're right.} Morgan pressed a soft, leisurely kiss to her lips. {We'll have plenty of time for this once the others are safe and the Jotnar have been banished back to Chula.} He stroked her cheek with a lock of her hair. She took pleasure in the fact that he couldn't seem to stop touching her. {I can't wait to see you lying in the center of my bed, with the orange light of the setting sun streaming across your body.} Ariana's breath caught. How could she tell him that she had no intention of going home with him? Goddess, she wanted nothing more, but his people would never accept her. How could they? She'd enslaved their future king. {What's wrong?} His warm brown eyes clouded with concern. The com saved her from having to answer. Not bothering to grab her robe, she walked naked into the other room and pressed the audio. "Yes?" Her aide Shalanna's voice came across the com. "Administrator, the search teams have just reported in. They've performed a twenty-five kilometer search of the area and found no sign of the missing slaves. They're requesting further instructions." {They'll never find them.} Morgan's hands slid around her to cup her breasts, his thumbs rubbing her sensitized skin. His warm body pressed against her back as his lips brushed the curve of her neck. Ariana gasped, her mind turning to mush. "There . . . there's no way they could have gotten farther than that on foot. I see no point in continuing. Tell them to return to their regular assignments." "Yes, Administrator." "I'll be in shortly." Ariana absently switched off the com, and turned in Morgan's arms. "I really should go to work." {Yes.} His lips trailed across her collarbone. She gripped his shoulders, her head falling back. "Grader's likely on the com right now, telling the Prime that I'm lying abed with my slave all day

while others are disappearing left and right." {Yes.} His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat. "If I'm reassigned, we'll have to leave immediately." Morgan's lips stilled on her throat. He sighed and stepped back. {We can't leave until we're certain that all the slaves are safe.} "Where are they?" He shrugged. {Somewhere on the other side of the planet. Only Drake knows for certain where.} "Drake?" Rico! Goddess above, she was such an idiot! "That's why you went to Nikita, didn't you? To contact him?" Morgan nodded, kissing the tip of her nose. {None of the people I spoke to had a way to reach him, yet I knew that someone had told him I was here. Since she knew about the scars, I figured she must have been the one.} "I should have known." Ariana wrapped her arms around his waist and tapped her forehead against his hard chest. "I knew that they'd been close at one time. I should have guessed ..." She sighed, shaking her head. "I can't seem to control this jealousy I feel any time I see a woman near you." {Ariana, I told you.} He grasped her chin tenderly, tilting her head until her gaze met his. {The only woman I desire is you.} She stiffened, an image of her mother naked in his arms forming clearly in her mind. {That wasn't what it seemed. She did something to me--drugged me--it made me think I was holding you. It took a while to fight it off.} Gods, he wished she couldn't do that, send him images of things he didn't want to remember--especially that. He fought hard to contain the pain the memory brought. Some of it must have leaked through to her. "I'm so sorry." She hugged him. "I promise to try not to jump to anymore conclusions." {You'll give me a chance to explain?} "I'll try. Just don't let me catch you kissing another woman again," she warned, giving his sides a teasing pinch. "I don't share." {Your mother implied that you did. She even introduced me to Jomar.} He pushed aside the uncomfortable pain suddenly in his chest. "Bitch," Ariana whispered. "Did she tell you that Jomar was purchased

as a special gift for my deflowering?" Morgan flinched at her bitter tone. {No. She didn't.} "I refused to brand him with that blasted kit, so she declared me a stubborn, willful child that didn't deserve him and promptly placed him in her harem." Ariana sighed. "She just couldn't understand why I refused to treat another human being in such a callous manner." {Why couldn't you?} You had no trouble treating me that way, he thought, as the events of the past few days came raging into his mind with a vengeance. "My father was a slave--a Bellarissian slave," she whispered, refusing to meet his stare. Morgan stumbled back, feeling like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He shook his head. No, it wasn't possible. It had only been ten years since his people had started venturing into the galaxy again on discreet trading missions. Before that, they'd been in strict seclusion. He didn't doubt that some of his people had ended up in Jotnar hands, they'd lost a lot of ships lately, but Ariana was certainly a hell of a lot older then ten. "I know it's difficult to believe," she said, and Morgan realized that he'd dropped the barrier locking her out of his emotions. "But, you saw how my mother was with you. She's always had this thing about Bellarissian men. She told me that when my father had turned up on the auction block, she just had to have him." Morgan moved to the window, staring out at the midday sky, and tried to digest what she'd said. She was telling the truth, he'd seen it in her eyes. {What happened to him?} "He escaped." Morgan's breath caught, an image from the past forming in his mind--an image of another man and another collar. He turned to face her, seeing her beautiful emerald eyes clouded with pain. {You wish he hadn't?} "No! I wished he'd taken me with him. I begged him to, but he said he couldn't, that I needed my mother." She hugged her arms around her waist. "The morning after he'd gone, my mother told me he'd gotten sick and died. I didn't tell her that he'd come to me during the night. I didn't tell her how much I hated her, especially when she scolded me for crying." Ariana started pacing in front of him, so lost in her memories that he couldn't be sure she was still aware of him in the room.

"I hated her so much that I looked forward to the day the Jotnar would come to take me away. I hated them for bringing their cruelty, their slavery to my world, but I hated her more." And they'd sent her back here, doubling her torment. Heartless bastards! Gods, so young to harbor such hatred against her only family. How much she must have suffered. He couldn't begin to imagine how lonely she must have been. {How old were you?} "Four." {What happened to your brother?} "He fell out a window." She blinked back furious tears. "The two of us were only a year apart, and we were inseparable. You can't imagine how much it hurt to lose him only to have my father leave me a week later." With Galen's death so fresh in his heart, Morgan did know how much it hurt, but he didn't think she'd appreciate his understanding of her pain. "Have I satisfied your curiosity, or do I need to go into my wonderful childhood and my Jotnar education?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. She started pacing over by the bed. {I'm sorry. I don't mean to cause you pain, but I have to ask. Did you see him fall?} "No, my mother--" Ariana's steps faltered, a startled expression on her face. "You don't think...? No, she wouldn't dare!" Lie about the brother's death as well? Why wouldn't she? Morgan had yet to see that the woman had any heart. "No, even she couldn't be that cruel." She sighed. "Now I know how you feel when I press you for answers." He understood how she felt. And now he understood what drove her, what made her react so strongly to any sign of betrayal. Her jealousy, her anger, was her way of protecting her heart. She'd been alone for so long, she was afraid to trust that he'd always be there for her. {I'm sorry. I won't ask anything else.} Ariana met his gaze, apology written all over her face as she moved to stand before him. "No, you have a right to know. I should have told you long ago about my father." {I'm glad you did.} He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. {Do you know if he made it safely home?}

She shook her head, her eyes taking on a glossy sheen. {How long ago was it?} "Twenty-two years." That would have made Morgan eight. A niggling started at the back of his mind as images flashed through his consciousness. A gold collar. Him, very young, held tightly in the arms of an anguished man as they cut the collar from his neck. {Oh, gods.} "What is it?" Ariana placed a gentle hand on his arm as she looked into his eyes, her gaze full of concern. {His name. Do you remember his name?} "Shaylor." Morgan's heart skipped a beat. {Shay?} "Yes! Are you familiar with the name?" {I know him. He made it home, Ariana, and he's alive. Very much alive,} he whispered, staring deep into her hopeful eyes. The com beeped, startling them both. Showing a great deal of reluctance, Ariana left him to answer it. A few moments later she returned, excitement practically oozing from her pores. "Go get dressed!" She gave him a playful shove. "We'll grab something to eat and head over to the office. Then, my secretive Bellarissian love, you are going to tell me everything." ~*~ "Do you have proof that Administrator Zoltan is involved?" Commodore Barkin asked, his image displayed on the vid-com in Grader's office. "No." Grader released a frustrated sigh and leaned back in his chair. He'd had her and the Bellarissian watched around the clock the last two days, and hadn't been able to find anything to use against them. Yet, at last count, nearly seventy slaves were missing. How in the hell were they getting out? "Has she attempted to find the missing slaves?" "Yes, sir. She sent out search crews." Blast it! Wasn't there anything he could use against her? "Has she neglected her position in any way?" Barkin's tone grew increasingly annoyed.

"Since she claimed the Bellarissian slave, she has been very tardy reporting in." Barkin laughed. "As long as her performance does not suffer, the Prime has no complaint about its officers making use of their slaves. In fact, with you being the exception, it tends to calm them down a bit." Grader swore silently. "I know she's involved!" "Without proof, Commander, there's nothing I can do. I cannot approach the review board on just your feeling. Treason is a very serious charge, as you well know." Barkin stared at him pointedly. Steam wilted Grader's collar as he remembered his own close call with treason charges. If not for his influential father, he likely would have been executed by now. He'd deprived the Prime of its chance to conquer Bellariss. That mark could never be erased from his record. Damn her! It was all her fault. "Get me proof, Commander, before your transfer orders come through. I've held them off as long as I can." "Yes, sir." Grader saluted and watched the vid-com go blank. He'd find the proof, all right, even if he had to manufacture it. That Cantaran slut's days as one of the Jotnar's chosen were numbered. The desk com beeped. "What?" "Leiutenant Jaxon to see you, sir. He says he was in the yard last night, and has some information he thought you'd like to know." Jaxon? Which one was he? "Send him in." A few moments later, the guard stood in front of him, entirely too self-assured. "Ah, now I remember--our royal chef. I understand his highness wasn't pleased with the fare you prepared for him." He derived pleasure from the sudden flush that crept up the man's neck and the dark fury burning in his eyes. "You had something to report?" The guard's fists clenched and unclenched, his nostrils flaring. It was several moments before he was able to control his anger enough to speak. "I think I know who the Bellarissian is consorting with." "Really?" Grader rose to his feet and walked around the desk, stopping in front of the taller man. Encouraged, Jaxon's chest puffed out. "Last night, I saw him and the cripple arguing about something." Grader struck Jaxon with the back of his hand. The blood that trickled down the man's chin gave him an instant

erection. Demonstrations of his power always did. "How can a mute man argue with anyone?" he asked, using his best intimidating tone. "He used a pad, sir." Jaxon ducked his head. Grader grinned. He liked it when they cowered. Vita cowered extremely well. The slightest whimper from her could get him off. But Vita was gone, and the Bellarissian was responsible. "What were they arguing about?" Jaxon flinched at Grader's harsh tone. "I don't know, sir. But then the cripple stalked off and the Bellarissian went and sat in the corner." The man gradually grew more comfortable, his body movements and tone becoming animated with the telling of his tale. "It must have been a wall-banger of a fight, because he didn't move for hours, not even to eat." "Do you intend to get to the point anytime soon? Or was that it?" Grader didn't have time for this nonsense. He needed proof, solid proof, that the Cantaran bitch and her slave were involved in the escapes. "The cripple came back with two others--a guard and the cat-man. Before I could get close enough to identify the guard, they broke up. The cripple went off to the barracks with one of the women. She didn't come back out." Grader rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. The cripple and the Novan. Hmm...He couldn't get any information out of the Bellarissian, but maybe one of the others--"Have the Novan brought to me right away." "It might take some time to find him." "Do it." He barely acknowledged the guard's salute, instead going back to his desk to find out what kind of leverage he could hold over the Novan's head. Twenty minutes later, the Novan cat-man, Kerok, stood before him. "You sent for me, sir?" the cat-man asked, his voice purring the ‘r' in sir. "I understand that you've become rather friendly with the Bellarissian slave." Grader watched the cat-man closely for a reaction. The fur not hidden by his green coveralls suddenly stood on end. "I know nothing of which you speak." "Is that so? Think very carefully of your answers, cat-man." Grader reached out and flipped on the viewscreen. "You have a lovely family. Your father, mate, and daughter, correct? I'd hate to see them suffer for your deceit." Kerok growled, the sound coming from deep in his throat, as his gaze fixed on the viewscreen.

"I understand that Novan females can get quite...frisky. I'm sure the two of them would be quite popular in the exotic pleasure house on Pleasara." Kerok unsheathed his claws. Grader chuckled. "Of course, they would have to be de-clawed first." He reached out and enlarged the image until their furred, cat-like faces filled the screen. "They're quite lovely, for cats." The cat-man squeezed his eyes shut, his hands fisting until his sharp claws pierced his own palms and blood dripped onto the floor. Triumph flooded every fiber of Grader's being. Without torture, he'd have everything he wanted from this semi-intelligent freak. Just one more push-- "And, your father, he's a bit too old to be mining ore. We probably should just put him out of his misery." The cat-man's entire body seemed to slump in defeat. "What do you wish to know?" "What was the administrator's involvement in the escapes?" "I know nothing about the administrator." "Liar!" Grader leapt to his feet. "She sent him to the yard so he could help those people escape." "No, sir." The cat-man shook his head. "He displeased her. She sent him there to punish him." Grader grabbed his weapon from his holster and leveled it in the center of the cat-man's chest. "Don't lie to me, cat. You, the cripple, and a guard were seen consorting with him in a corner of the yard." "She found him with another woman. In her jealously, she collared and branded him. The man you call 'cripple' wanted him to seek vengeance. The Bellarissian refused." Grader had seen her when she returned from the city with the slave. She'd been extremely angry. Could this cat possibly be telling the truth? "The guard?" "Was called to doctor the burn." "What were you doing there? You're place is in the complex building." Kerok's fur ruffled, but he didn't blink, and he didn't break eye contact. "I tried to remove the collar. I didn't have the right tools." Grader swore silently. "If the cripple doesn't confirm your story, cat-man, I'll have you skinned." Kerok stiffened. "He will." He'd better not, blast it! Grader didn't want to hear about a lover's quarrel. He wanted proof of her treason. It appeared that he was going to have to manufacture some of that proof himself. "All right, Novan." He pasted on his most pleasant smile. "I'll buy your story. For now. But don't think our business is finished yet." He smiled, rubbing his

hands together as a plan formed in his mind. "You and I have a lot more to talk about, if you intend to keep your family safe."

Chapter 15 Morgan woke up in a foul mood and the day only grew worse as the hours passed. His people were due to invade in six days, and he still had sixty people to see to safety. Only now, they had to be extremely careful. All of them were being watched closely for suspicious behavior, even Ariana. And if that weren't bad enough, Grader had pulled Kerok and Chekron in for questioning this morning. It was only by the grace of the gods and Kerok's strong telepathic ability that Morgan had been able to get to Chekron with Kerok's story before the guards had come to get him. When the guards had dragged Chekron back to the yard afterward, and Morgan had seen his battered face, he'd wanted to commit murder. But before he could act on his feelings, Ariana had whisked him aboard her shuttle. He was in no mood for sightseeing. "It was dark the last time we came to the city. Would you like to see how it looks in daylight?" {No.} Morgan's mental voice sounded petulant even to himself, but he looked out the window anyway. Ariana sighed, taking the seat next to him. She'd thought this trip would take his mind off his worries. Evidently, it wasn't going to work. His temperament only grew worse as the minutes passed. As the city's skyline came into view, she watched him for his reaction. When he did little more than widen his eyes, disappointment filled her mouth with a bitter taste. "This is Ardelis, our capital city." She leaned against him to point out the sights. "Do you like it?" Morgan shrugged. {Everything is so tall. How many hundreds of floors do these buildings have?} "As many as our gravity will allow. We have over six billion people housed in only nine cities. Of course, our cities probably cover quadruple the land your largest city does." Morgan turned his head and gaped at her. "I know," Ariana laughed, "it's ludicrous. Instead of finding the technology to make more of our land hospitable, we keep building up. It can't go on forever. Eventually, our gravity will cause the buildings to come crumbling down." "Administrator," the pilot called out. "Is there some place in particular you wanted me to set down?" "No,

just circle the city once, then take us to the silk plant." She turned back to Morgan. His brooding look startled her. "What is it?" He shook his head. "Morgan--" {How long will it take to circle this monstrosity?} Ariana gasped at his insult. "About an hour. Why? Have you something better to do?" Monstrosity indeed! Their capital city was ridiculously large, but there wasn't a Cantaran alive that wasn't proud of its beauty. He stiffened, clenching his jaw, and looked away. {I'm not in the mood for sight-seeing, and to be honest, I've already seen more of your city than I ever wanted to.} "Corbin," she called out to one of the guards seated behind them. "Tell the pilot that I've changed my mind and wish to go directly to the silk plant." "Yes, Administrator." Corbin glared at Morgan as he strode down the aisle toward the cockpit. Crossing her arms beneath her breasts, Ariana ignored Morgan for the next half-hour and watched the Cantaran skyline zip past her window. The streaks of color from the bright skyscrapers quickly blurred to the black of the rocky Cerberous Mountains. They were almost there. As the shuttle reduced speed, the green and red blurs within the black gradually took the form of trees and foliage. A slight shudder ran through the transport as it powered down and landed. Rising from her seat, Ariana did her best not to glare at Morgan and walked to the slowly opening hatch. When he didn't immediately rise and follow her, she turned, hands on hips, and stared at him expectantly. "Are you coming?" Morgan heaved a reluctant sigh, then slowly unfolded his large frame from the high-backed, padded seat. The longer he took to walk the few steps separating them, the angrier she grew. Rather than let loose with all the scathing remarks that lay bitterly on the tip of her tongue, Ariana clamped her lips together and turned, leading the way into the large plant. Her anger slowly melted as she surveyed the flurry of activity surrounding her. She was so proud of this place. It was only one of Cantara's ten silk plants, but it was the largest and it was hers. She was the one that kept it running, kept it fruitful. All her mother cared about was her profit deposits.

Ariana glanced back at Morgan and saw a spark of interest in his eyes as he looked around. She took his arm and led him toward the first room. Just outside the door, she paused, turning to face him. "Have you ever seen our silk?" Morgan nodded, staring past her at the door. Ariana led the way into the room. "Our silk takes very delicate handling. One wrong cut, one wrong stitch and the entire length of fabric is ruined." She gestured to the long tables manned by men and women alike as they hand-sewed cut pieces of the colorful fabric into garments. "Here we construct garments for those who don't want to take the chance of destroying the fabric." She watched as Morgan approached the nearest table and crouched to grab a scrap from the floor. He gently rubbed the delicate, iridescent blue fabric between his fingers. She shivered, imagining his hands skimming her silk-covered body, creating a delicious, slippery friction against her skin. Her nipples tightened in response, and a spiral of heat flared in her belly. Shoving the image aside with more effort than should have been necessary, she made a mental note to wear her silk nightslip for him, and soon. When it appeared that he'd looked his fill, she led the way to the door at the far side of the room. It had to be opened manually, but before she could touch the old-fashioned knob, Corbin opened it for them. "As you can see," Ariana said, enjoying her role as tour-guide. "This is the cutting room. Here, the fabric is cut into garment pieces." She barely waited a minute before moving on to the next chamber. "This is the weaving room. Here and the spinning room, which I'll show you next, are the only places where we allow modern technology to touch the silk. The old looms are too rough on the delicate threads." The bars clanked back and forth on the large machines as the shuttles ran between the webbing of threads. Modern or not, they still were very noisy. She quickly moved into the spinning room where women carefully supervised the machines that unwound the web-like fibers from cocoons that ranged from fist-sized at the smallest end to melon-sized at the largest. "Any questions?" Morgan shook his head. "All right." Ariana sighed, trying to hold back her frustration, and led them into the largest portion of the plant, the storage area. The lighting

was kept dim to protect the fabric. The meager illumination caused the bolts of fabric to sparkle like shelves and shelves of shiny jewels. She turned to gauge Morgan's reaction and wasn't disappointed. His face reflected the wonder she felt every time she entered this part of the plant. "If you like this, you'll love what's next on the tour." Ariana's heart pounded with excitement as she led him to the vault, hidden behind the shelves in the back of the storage section. She stopped in front of the vault door and entered her access code into the numeral pad set into the wall. {Why a lock on this door when the warehouse is unguarded?} Morgan's question startled her. He'd been silent for so long after their petty argument, she hadn't expected to hear from him again until well after they'd returned to the base. "You'll see." She smiled at his deepening frown. The door slid silently open in front of them, the lights remaining off until they crossed the threshold. As the contents of the vault room came into view, she heard Morgan's breath catch. She smiled with pride as Morgan tentatively approached one of the six capes lovingly displayed upon black velvet forms. When he looked at her and smiled, something he rarely seemed to do, her heart skipped a beat and she had to remind herself to breathe. {Ariana, they're beautiful.} He looked back to the cape, and reached out, only to stop a fraction away. "You can touch. Just be careful not to crush it," she said, moving to stand next to him. It was beautiful. She reached out to stroke one of the thousands of tiny gossamer wings that were lovingly hand-sewn into this flowing cape. The wings themselves were colorless. But, in the light, each tiny wing reflected a different color, like a prism in direct sunlight. {My mother would love this.} His voice was an awed whisper in her mind. His mother--he'd never mentioned his family before. If she were really truthful, he rarely spoke of anything personal. Could this be a sign that he's finally starting to trust her, if just a little? Oh, he trusted her with the lives of others, his confession about the rebellion proved that. But was he finally starting to trust her with his heart? Ariana shook her head, forcing herself to concentrate on the cape. "It's very expensive. It takes over a year to get enough wings to make a cape of this size. The royal coffers would likely groan under the strain of such a withdrawal."

Morgan stiffened slightly, dropping his hand away from the cape. {I have my own source of credits.} "I'm not saying that you don't." Though she was surprised. "But, to be honest, I couldn't afford one of these. The last one we sold went for ten-million credits." Morgan gave a long, slow whistle. {No wonder I haven't seen these at home.} "You have Cantaran silk where you live? How? We have no records of trading or selling to Bellariss." {We may have kept to ourselves, but we still buy goods from other worlds. We use a broker.} Why hadn't she thought of that? They certainly dealt with brokers whose clients chose to remain anonymous. Reaching out again, she stroked the silky cape and glanced up at him. "Would you like to see where we keep the silk worms and the moths?" His nod was barely perceptible. She turned and strode toward the door. Since he seemed so fascinated with the capes, she hoped seeing live moths would cheer him up. He paused, and glanced back at the cape once more. Ariana sealed the door, then retraced her steps into the warehouse, to a lift that took them to the upper level where the silk-spinning worms and their elders--the moths--were kept. Morgan grasped her arm, stopping her as she stepped out of the lift. {We haven't been questioned once. How is it you're able to walk about freely and have access to that vault? It can't be because of your position at the base.} She pointed over his shoulder. Painted on the wall next to the lift, was her family crest, an emblem very similar to the mark burned into his skin. "My family owns this plant. Every now and then, I come down and make sure things are running smoothly." No approval, no disapproval. The man was a complete mystery. "Come on, let's go look at the spinners." Morgan followed along beside her, his gaze down, his hand rubbing his neck. She wondered what he was thinking. "Our moths thrive in darkness." She stopped in front of a doorway set into the face of the mountain.

Morgan's head snapped up suddenly to study the sheer rock and the door. {What kind of darkness? What lies beyond the door?} "The caves, of course. The minerals in the rock and the lack of light work together to give them their unique iridescence." As she spoke, all the color drained from Morgan's face. "What's the matter?" {Go ahead and do your inspection. I'll wait out here.} He backed up a few steps. "Morgan, don't be silly. Come in with me. You liked the capes. You'll love the live version. The color literally pulses through them." {I'd rather not.} One of the workers snickered behind them. "I think he's afraid." Ariana stiffened, ready to defend Morgan if he didn't defend himself. He didn't. He wouldn't look at her either. "Morgan, come in with me." Her tone definitely made it sound like an order, not a request. Morgan stared at her, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and knew he had to try. Sighing, he nodded, and saw her expression immediately brighten. "This way." She took his hand, pulling him to the door. Corbin stepped forward, grabbing the latch, and swung the door wide. The entrance was warm and well-lit. So far so good, Morgan thought, stepping inside. But, all too soon, they approached another door. He had to stoop to keep from banging his head as he followed her through the next door, into the deep recesses of the cave. With every step, he grew more conscious of how dark it was getting. Not only dark, but chilly. The chill seeped through his clothes, through his skin, into his bones, making him shiver uncontrollably. The door slammed behind them, sealing them in darkness. It startled Morgan so badly, he nearly jumped out of his boots. He clenched his fists, forcing himself not to run back to the door and demand to be let out. I don't like this. His eyes had just become adjusted to the darkness when a glow lamp flared to life in Ariana's hand, surrounding them in a soft blue glow. His breath left him in a strangled hiss. The pit! Dear gods, he'd been transported to the pit. The dampness, the stench, the rats, it all came to him with a raging fury.

"This way." Ariana continued on, taking the light with her. I can't do this. Morgan's mouth opened to tell her, but no sound emerged. The mold, he could smell the mold. A skittering noise startled him. He whirled, ready to strike, but there was nothing there. Nothing but his memories. He couldn't breathe. He gasped, struggling to draw air into his chest, but his lungs wouldn't fill. He had to get out. Now. He spun on his heel and ran for the door. His foot caught on a rock, and he fell heavily. The sandy grit on the cave's floor cut into his palms and cheek. "Morgan?" Ariana called to him, her voice far away and uncertain, as if she'd just realized that he wasn't right behind her. Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the door handle. As he fumbled with the latch, she called him again. "Morgan, where are you?" {I want out.} He swung the door wide. "Morgan, come back." He ignored her, striding toward the next door and yanked it open. Chest heaving, he burst out into the bright sunlight. By the time Ariana caught up to him, he had his emotions under control and most of the grit brushed from his skin and clothes. "What's wrong with you?" Her whole body displayed her annoyance as she stared up at him. When he didn't reply, she told him to come back inside. There was no way he was going back in there. Not for her. Not for anyone. He glared at her, ignoring the guards that gathered around them to watch. {Don't you understand? I don't care about your drekking bugs, and I sure as hell don't want to look at them!} Ariana said not one word to Morgan as they boarded the transport, nor the entire trip back to the base. It wasn't until they were back within the base compound that she finally turned to him. "Go to my quarters. I need some time alone." {As you wish,} he whispered into her mind. She spun on her heel and walked away, not sparing him even one last glare. Morgan watched her stiff back until she turned a corner and was out of sight. Sighing, he started walking across the compound toward her

dwelling. She'd probably understand if he told her what had happened to him, but blast it, he wasn't about to humiliate himself more, not after that last time. What could be worse than telling her you'd been used like a whore? his conscience asked. Telling her I'm afraid of the dark, his pride answered. No, Morgan shook his head, some things were better left unsaid. Not even his twin would know what had happened to him on Chula. "What'd you do to piss her off this time?" Chekron called out from the yard, his fingers curled around the bars of the fence. Morgan stopped in front of him. The sight of Chekron's battered face replaced his self-pity with a fresh surge of anger. He pulled out his pad and wrote I refused to look at her insects. Chekron laughed. "At least she didn't slap the collar on you again." Morgan grinned. How many? Chekron smiled wickedly as he leaned closer to the bars. "Eight more in the two hours you've been gone." Do you think you can manage a couple more tonight? Chekron nodded. Good. If we can transport ten a day, they'll all be gone by the time my people invade. Think we can handle that? Chekron nodded again. "While you were gone, the three of us managed to tag damn near everyone and warn them not to sanitize their clothes. We should have no problem sending them off one at a time like we've been doing the last few days." He grinned. "Helps having a guard who can come and go as he pleases, and isn't subject to being searched." Morgan nodded. It did at that. "Hey, you! Move along!" Morgan looked over his shoulder and saw a guard striding purposefully toward him. Saluting Chekron, he walked away before the guard could reach him. It wasn't long before his faithful shadow found him. "What are you doing out here?" Gar asked. "I thought she was determined to single-handedly keep you out of trouble. I'm surprised she let you out of her sight." Morgan shrugged. {I seem to have a knack for rousing the lady's anger.}

"She didn't catch you with another woman again, did she?" Gar chuckled. Glancing heavenward, Morgan sighed and shook his head. Was this going to be the extent of his evening? Retelling the same story over and over? The sooner he got to Ariana's dwelling the better. {I had insects to help me this time.} Gar instantly sobered. "I'm surprised she took you there," he said, shaking his head. "I've yet to see a man survive the pit and be able to stomach being near a cave again." Morgan's heart skipped a beat. {How did you know?} Gar pointed to Morgan's forearm, exposed by his rolled-up sleeves. "I've seen scars like those before, on the arms and legs of men who'd been thrown in the pit. Not many come out alive." I nearly didn't, Morgan thought, absently rubbing the long bite mark. Remembering the time he'd dozed off, he shuddered then quickly forced the memory away. He didn't want to waste conscious thought on it. His dreams were bad enough. "Where are you headed? She send you to the yard again?" Humor sparkled in Gar's eyes. Morgan grinned. {No, she banished me to her quarters.} And while he was there, he might as well play with her terminal. Maybe he'd be able to find some word on Galen. "Well, come on then. I'll escort you." Gar started walking in the direction of Ariana's dwelling. "Wouldn't want you getting into any more trouble." {Me? Trouble?} Morgan grinned, keeping in step with him. {Those two words don't belong in the same sentence.} "You're right, they don't." Gar laughed, slapping Morgan hard on the back. "Well, I suppose you can't get into too much trouble all by yourself in her room." You'd be surprised, Morgan thought when he nodded a farewell to Gar and stepped inside. Even if I don't go looking for trouble, it finds me. A few hours later, it did. Ariana entered her dwelling determined to forget about what had happened today. Yes, he'd hurt her feelings, but she shouldn't have pushed him so hard. "You wouldn't believe what's going on," she said, glancing around the

room for Morgan. "The central computer must have caught a virus or something, because every food station on the base started spitting out all sorts of nasty ...." She finally spotted Morgan, seated at her terminal with a pleased grin curving his firm lips. "What did you do?" {I felt the need to make the Jotnar suffer a bit.} Morgan leaned back in the chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. Hurt them where it really counted, in their bellies. Ariana smiled back at him. Then her stomach rumbled, and her smile slipped. "I'm starved. Please tell me our food station isn't going to spit out Sumarian blood ale and stewed leeches." Morgan's body shook with a silent chuckle. {You'll be happy to find that your food station is remarkably immune to the virus.} "Thank the goddess," Ariana whispered, glancing heavenward, and strode purposefully toward the food station. After tapping in her dinner selection, she glanced over her shoulder. "Did you want anything?" Morgan shrugged. {Whatever you're having . . . unless it's stewed leeches.} Laughing, she turned back to the food station and programmed it for two. Morgan's arms slid around her waist. {I'm sorry I embarrassed you today.} Turning in his arms, Ariana draped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. "I'm the one who's sorry. I should never have forced you to go on that trip with me. I knew you weren't in the best of moods. I just thought that if we left the base for a while, some of the suspicion would fall off of you for a while." {I know what you were trying to do.} Morgan hugged her, and Ariana rested her cheek on his firm chest. {But it has to be clear to them by now that if I am involved, I'm not working alone.} "You're right." She sighed, rubbing her cheek against him. "What happens when all the slaves are gone?" {I get you and the others to safety, then find somewhere inconspicuous to hide until my people arrive.} Ariana gasped, pulling away. The food station chimed, but she ignored it. "You can't be serious! That would be suicide. What if the Jotnar found you first? They'd kill you." {As long as you're safe, I'm willing to take the risk.} "Well, I'm not," she insisted, staring into his determined eyes. "I won't

leave you here alone to get yourself killed. You'll either come with me, or we'll stay here together." {Ariana--} "No, my mind is made up." Deciding that her statement was the end of this discussion, she turned to retrieve their dinner from the food station. "Sit. I'll serve this onto plates and join you in a second." After a long moment, Morgan sighed and took his place at the table. {Stubborn woman,} he muttered. {All right, we'll go together.} Ariana turned to him with plates in hand and smiled. "I knew you'd see things my way." Morgan's cinnamon brown eyes darkened to a rich choconut color as he stared at her, but they darkened in passion, not the anger she'd expected. {You're going to see things my way, just as soon as you've finished filling your belly.} Ariana set the plate in front of him with a trembling hand as an image of him filling her belly, but not with food, leapt into her mind. Shaking her head to clear it, she focused her eyes on Morgan and saw Captive Hearts Lissa Michaels his wicked smile. {My thoughts exactly.}

Chapter 16 Of course it would be the last one, Morgan thought as he watched the chip tester turn from green to red. The burned out chip couldn't be one of the ones in the front of the beverage station. Oh, no, it had to be the one way in the back, forcing him to practically climb into the blasted thing. You're the one that wanted to do this, he reminded himself. Ariana told you to leave it alone, but you insisted you were bored. He was bored. There was nothing to do in Ariana's office except watch her work. Besides, if he hadn't set that virus loose in the system last night, Ariana's beverage station wouldn't have malfunctioned. Sighing, Morgan yanked the bad chip from its socket then sat back on his heels and rummaged for a replacement chip in the tool bag he'd had Kerok bring him. When he finally had the right chip in his hand, he leaned his upper body into the unit and slid it into the slot. "No, no, no!"

Morgan banged his head against the unit housing. Drek! Sitting back on his heels, he turned his gaze to Ariana and rubbed the back of his head. {What's wrong?} Ariana looked up from her terminal, her luscious pink lips marred by a frown. "We just received notice that a slave transport is on its way." {When is it due to arrive?} The last thing they needed was more people to worry about. "In two days." Ariana rubbed her temples. "Are they crazy? They know slaves are disappearing from here. Why in the world would they send us more?" Morgan shrugged. {Perhaps they were already in transit before we started transporting the others out.} "Maybe you're right." Ariana sighed. "I'll have them re-routed." {No, don't do that. It's better to have them here on the ground than in transit somewhere when the invasions begin. How many more are they sending?} Ariana glanced down at her terminal. "Twenty." Blast! He wasn't sure how many of the code disks they had left, but he had a feeling that it would be very close to that amount. {You'd better send for Gar.} "Why?" Her eyes clouded with worry. {If we don't have enough disks to get all of them and us out of here, we've got a problem.} While they waited for Gar to arrive, Morgan put the beverage station back together and tested it by selecting Ariana's favorite fruit juice. When the thin yellow berry juice he expected appeared in a cup, he nodded with approval then grabbed the cup and brought it to her. "Thank you," she murmured, and absently took a sip. Her eyes widened in surprise. "You remembered!" {Why wouldn't I?} Morgan leaned in close to her, bracing one hand on her desk, the other on the back of her chair. {I'm getting to know all of your likes and dislikes, not just the ones in the bedroom.} He brushed his lips against her neck, sending a tremor through her body. Turning her head, Ariana raised her lips for a kissThe com beeped. Morgan straightened and grinned as Ariana released a frustrated sigh

and jabbed the com. "Yes?" Ariana asked, her tone a bit testy. "Lieutenant Gar is here with the slave you wanted to interview, and the Novan is here to repair your beverage station," Shalanna said. Ariana looked at Morgan, a question in her eyes. He shrugged. {Maybe he decided it would be easier to bring them all here, rather than play messenger repeatedly.} "Send them in." She flipped off the com. "Is that really a wise thing to do?" Morgan shrugged again. The doors slid open admitting Gar, Chekron, and Kerok into the room. Morgan clasped forearmswith each of them, then gestured for them to have a seat at the conference table. It seated eight and provided each occupant with a monitor built into the table's surface. He disconnected Ariana's keyboard from her terminal, strode to the table, and plugged it into the data terminal. Now he could type what he had to say and not have to worry about Chekron's sensitivity to telepathy. Ariana waited until the men had taken their seats before rising from her chair and joining them. The dark-haired slave glared at her as she approached. He seemed so familiar to her somehow. Perhaps it was because of his eyes, silver--like her mother's. Or, perhaps it was because his build was similar to Morgan's, only an inch or two shorter and maybe a bit bulkier. Refusing to be intimidated, she took her place beside Morgan and stared back at him. Why does he hate me so? Chekron looked away, fixing his gaze on Morgan. Morgan's words spread across the screen in front of her. Do we have enough? "No," Gar said. "With the five of us, and the twenty new slaves, it looks like we'll be short two." Morgan nodded. He didn't seem surprised, and looked entirely too calm for her liking. Two of them would have to stay behind, and Morgan didn't seem worried about it. Ariana tried to sense his feelings, but found that she was still locked out. Why? Hadn't he learned to trust her yet? Or was it simply a reflex action? A way to protect himself? "Can you get more?" She hoped they wouldn't have to choose which of them would remain. She'd stay. She had

nowhere to go anyway, but who else? Gar? Morgan turned to Gar and spoke to him silently. After a moment, Gar rose from his seat and went to the com. A few minutes later, he returned frowning. "Rico's off on a manhunt. He took his whole crew with him, and Selita doesn't know when he'll return." Selita? Gar looked at Morgan and grinned wolfishly. "His latest ...." His gaze flickered briefly to Ariana, then he shrugged. Finding no humor in the situation, Ariana glared at the guard. "What are we going to do? Isn't that the question we should be asking?" Chekron slammed his palms down on the table. "We? What the drek do you have to do with this?" Ariana leapt to her feet. Morgan grasped her arm, firmly urging her to take her seat as he fixed his gaze on his friend. She's helping us. "You trust her?" Chekron's expression was incredulous. Ariana stiffened and gripped Morgan's arm tightly. I do. "You're out of your mind! She's Jotnar." "I'm Jotnar," Gar pointed out. "That's different," Chekron insisted, turning his head to look at Gar. "You're Guild. That comes before all else." "Guild," Ariana whispered. That's why Gar helped them--because the Guild protected their own. But why were they so protective of Morgan? Because of Drake? Or was there something more? "Chekron's right," Ariana announced, startling the men into silence. "I'm Jotnar, I'll stay." {No!} Chekron cried out in pain, clutching his head with both hands. Blast! Regretting his outburst, Morgan rose and moved to Chekron's side. {I'm sorry,} he whispered, gripping Chekron's shoulder. He hadn't meant to hurt him, but blast it, leaving Ariana here alone was out of the question. When his people invaded, Grader would realize what was happening, and who was responsible. Ariana would be the first to pay. He wasn't about to let Grader get his twisted hands on her. He moved back to

his seat and started typing. If anyone's going to stay, it'll be me. "No, I'll stay," Gar said. "I will stay as well," Kerok said. "I'm not going anywhere without you." Ariana folded her arms beneath her breasts as she stared stubbornly at him. Chekron took a deep shuddering breath and slowly let it out. "Why don't we steal a transport?" he said quietly, as he lowered his hands and raised his head. Ariana gasped. "I completely forgot! The transport that I arranged for you is due to arrive tomorrow, just after the dinner hour. We could commandeer that." An image formed in Morgan's mind of what exactly it was that made her forget. He hadn't projected the image to her, but an endearing blush crept up her neck, into her cheeks. Grinning, Morgan turned his gaze to the others. What do you think? "If we leave tomorrow, who will see that the others are sent on to the settlement?" Kerok asked. "I'll do it," Gar said. "I'm the only one they're not suspicious of. I can keep sending them off, like we've been doing. And, when the new ones get in, I can see to it that they disappear before they ever set foot on the planet." Morgan didn't like the idea, but there didn't appear to be any other choice. I guess that's what we'll have to do. I want you to wear one of the disks at all times. If you get into any trouble, transport yourself out immediately. Gar nodded. "Where will we go?" Ariana asked. To the settlement. We'll be safe there until help arrives. "I thought you said you didn't know where it is. How will we find it?" A touch of suspicion edged her voice. "I know where it is." Chekron's expression as he glanced from Ariana to Morgan clearly said that he didn't trust Ariana with the information. All right then, here's what we'll have to do.... As the five of them laid out their escape plans, Morgan couldn't help wondering where Drake was and why he'd chosen now, of all times, to go off searching for Hastin.

Drake had spent the better part of two days visiting every tavern and whorehouse in Pleasara's main spaceport, knowing Hastin would be here somewhere. This was where the Jotnar would have dropped him off, and his old man was too damned arrogant to hide. This morning, he'd finally found him. Sitting a head taller and twice as wide as any of the other patrons, no matter what species they were, Hastin stood out like a wolven in a flock of ewes. Deciding that the center of the crowded tavern wasn't the best place to confront him, Drake sat back and waited. Damn, the man could hold his liquor. If he hadn't watched Hastin swallow shot after expensive shot, he'd never know the man was drunk. Not when he rose steadily to his feet and moved on to a gaming house, where he drank more, and lost credits as if they were as easy to come by as a cheap whore. Not a cheap whore to be found in this place, he thought, glancing around his current surroundings, taking in the gilt-framed mirrors, velvet wallpaper, and silk draperies. Expensive taverns, big-stakes gaming halls, whore houses that promised girls classy enough to bring home to mother . . . how much money had the Jotnar given him to give up his planet? His future king? His son? Leaning farther back into the shadows, Drake tossed back the hood of his cloak and watched as his father ignored the scantily-clad women vying for his attention and swallowed yet another drink. "What's the matter, old man? Conscience getting the better of you?" he whispered, watching Hastin signal for another. Smelling cloying perfume and the faint odor of stale sex, Drake tensed. A long fingernail trailed down his arm. "Wanna drek?" He turned his head, bringing his face into full light, and glared at the nearly naked woman. She gasped, her hand flying to her throat. "Rico!" Face stricken with fear and horror, she hastily backed away. "I'm sorry," she stammered, then turned and ran. Blast! Drake yanked his hood back up and casually walked to a different spot. If his old man didn't move soon, he'd have to leave. He'd never heard of a tight-lipped whore before. Once she had time to calm down, she'd likely have every fortune hunter on the planet tearing the place upside down looking for him. He glanced back at his father and saw that Hastin hadn't noticed the

commotion. Good. Having finished off his drink, Hastin stood, swaying slightly, and shrugged off the grasping women around him. Then, he strode purposefully toward a whore seated on another man's lap and yanked her into his arms. Neither the woman, nor the smaller man, thought to protest. The man had balls. Drake would give him that much. The whore's husky laugh floated over to him as he watched Hastin put his hand on her ass and propel her toward the stairs. Drake followed them, careful to stay far enough behind to remain unseen while dodging the prostitutes that lined the stairs hoping to entice someone into giving up a few credits. One particularly bold woman planted herself in front of him and stroked the black fabric covering his chest with her long red nails. "You're a big one, aren't you? Bet you could wear a woman out." She licked her red painted lips. "Want to come to my room? I could perform my specialty. Hell," she looked him up and down. "I'd do you for free." Drake grabbed her arm, intending to shove her out of the way, and saw Hastin stop. Not wanting to be seen, not yet, he leaned back against the wall, pulling her in front of him, and kissed her. Sighing, she leaned into him and thoroughly immersed herself in the kiss while Drake watched his father grope his red-haired whore. When he was finally on the move again, Drake gently disengaged himself from the clinging female. "Maybe another time," he whispered and set her aside. Panting, she grabbed his hand before he'd made it up two steps. "Honey, if you drek half as good as you kiss, you come see me anytime." She gave him a saucy smile. "I'll kick a body out of my bed for you." Drake grinned and headed up the stairs. Thankfully, the couple he was tailing had little interest in anyone other than themselves. The whore stopped in front of a chamber door displaying a lewd, three-dimensional image of her performing her ‘specialty.' She swung the door wide and leaned invitingly against the doorframe. "Are you ready for something special?" Hastin lurched into the room, dragging her with him, and kicked the door shut with his heel. Drake caught it before it closed and entered behind them, letting his hood fall back on his shoulders. The whore planted herself in front of him. "You'll have to wait outside

until I'm finished. If it's a threesome you're wanting, there's a house down the pike that'll accommodate you." "Take a walk," Drake said, keeping his stare fixed on Hastin. "Better do as he says. Women who cross him have a tendency to wind up dead." "Bastard," Drake whispered. Hastin grinned at him. "Hey, I don't allow no fighting here." She nervously glanced back and forth between them. "If you're going to slap each other around, there's an arena up the vard." "Naw, he never was much of a fighter, were you, boy? I'd hit him, and he'd stand there and snivel. Never did stand up and fight for himself." Clenching his fists, Drake took a step toward him. Hastin wasn't intimidated. "That's why I let 'em have you. Wasn't about to defend a worthless bastard that'd let a little whore make a fool out of him." The woman screamed and ran from the room just as Drake pulled back his fist and let it fly. Hastin's breath left him in a loud whoosh as he fell to the floor clutching his abdomen. "Gods, boy." He gasped for breath. "I didn't know you had it in you." Drake turned and locked the door. "I've always had it in me," he said quietly, and faced his father. Hastin struggled to regain his feet. "Here, let me help you." Drake grabbed him by his shirtfront, yanked him to his feet, and slammed him into the wall. "If it had been only me you betrayed, I could have let it go, but you betrayed your future king." Drake gut-punched Hastin so hard he doubled over and retched on the whore's thick red carpeting. "Bet it doesn't taste as good coming back up, does it?" "Bastard!" Hastin jerked himself upright. "You always were more his son than mine," he snarled, and swung at Drake. Drake easily dodged the drunken blow. "You're wrong. I'm nothing like him. Tremaine would never hurt anyone, especially his own son, while I... well, you said it yourself. I kill people for crossing me."

"Is that it?" Hastin wheezed. "You going to kill me, boy? Your own Da?" He grabbed up a vase and threw it at Drake. It just barely missed Drake's head, shattering against the wall behind him. "That would be doing you a favor." Drake's fist slammed into Hastin's jaw with a satisfying crack, knocking him to the floor. "No, I'm not going to kill you." Drake grabbed him by the collar. "I'm going to see to it that you pay for your crimes." "What about your crimes?" "That's for my queen to decide." Drake clipped him under the chin, sending him unconscious to the floor. "Open up!" a male voice yelled, followed by thunderous pounding on the door. "Open up now, or I'll blast the door in!" "Looks like it's time for the Magician to disappear." Grabbing Hastin under his arms, Drake hauled him to his feet. A second later, they disappeared in a flash of white light. Scarred, inside and out, Ariana thought, as she ran her hands over the ridges that crisscrossed Morgan's back. So much pain. How could anyone suffer that much, and still remain sane? {Mmm...I could get used to this,} Morgan whispered into her mind. "Could you now?" Ariana smiled and kneaded his broad shoulders, enjoying the feel of the strong muscles contracting and releasing under her manipulation. {Mmmhmm . . . } He released a contented sigh. "Well then, I suppose I should do this right." She straddled his hips. As her nimble fingers worked their way down his back, her heart catalogued every gasp, sigh, and groan of pleasure he released, taking special delight in the ones she actually heard with her ears. When she reached the small of his back, her fingers strayed to the white crescent-shaped scar on his hip. "Nikita said that Bellarissian medicine didn't leave scars, that this must have been left intentionally." Morgan's body stiffened beneath her. {It was.} "Why?" Why would anyone purposely leave a scar? Nikita had said something about a lesson he and Drake had needed to learn. A harsh lesson, as far as she was concerned. {I'd rather not talk about it.} Releasing a frustrated sigh, Ariana rolled onto her back and stared at the pink silk canopy above her. I will not cry, she thought, even as she felt

her throat tightening. He's closed-mouthed and entirely exasperating, but he won't make me cry. Morgan turned onto his side, facing her, and reached out to finger a lock of her hair. {What's wrong?} "How can you even talk about us having a life together when you won't share anything that's the slightest bit personal?" {You would ask me to break a blood oath?} Ariana jerked her gaze to his. "Of course not," she said, though his words only served to make her even more curious. {Then don't ask me about the scar.} He brushed the silky lock of hair he held across the tip of her nose. "What else is off-limits?" She wrinkled her nose, trying to fight off the urge to sneeze. {Chula,} Morgan replied instantly. Well, she couldn't exactly blame him for not wanting to talk about that, and truth be known, she wasn't so sure she wanted to know. "How about family?" A surprised look entered his eyes. {What could you possibly not know about my family? I've seen your Jotnar files; they're pretty thorough.} "They don't tell the important things--what they're like, whether you're close to them, whether they're missing you or glad you're gone." Morgan flinched. {Glad? I hope not, though my sister may want to skin me alive when she finally gets a hold of me.} He wasn't joking; Ariana could see it in his eyes. "Why?" {Sabina doesn't want to rule, and doesn't want it for her family. But now, the crown will pass to her, and her child after her.} "Oh, Morgan. Why?" He blinked, glancing away. {They gave me reason to believe that I won't be able to have children-not anymore.} Ariana's throat tightened with sorrow as she reached out to touch his hand. How horrible he must feel knowing that he'll be a king that can't produce heirs. Monsters! They deserved extinction, not banishment. Morgan glanced back at her, eyes shining. {I guess I should have considered that before I bonded with you. It's not fair--} "That bond saved your life," she interrupted, not wanting to hear him

say that he regretted it. The bond made her feel whole for the first time in her life and she welcomed it even knowing it was temporary. {Yes, it saved my life, but at what cost? Your happiness? How long will it be before you grow to resent me for our childless marriage?} He intended for them to marry? Goddess above, was she the only one who saw the real problem with their relationship? "Morgan, my life is promised to the Jotnar. Having a home and family were things I didn't dare dream about. A marriage, even a childless one, would be more than I ever would have thought possible." He squeezed her hand. "But don't misunderstand me." She carefully withdrew her hand. "I don't believe that a marriage between us is a real possibility." His eyes turned cold, his jaw hard as granite. {Why?} Ariana reached out and placed her palm over the brand on his neck--her brand. "If I can't forgive myself for what you've suffered in my hands, how will your people?" His eyes warmed as he brought her palm to his lips. {It doesn't really matter what they think, as long as you're happy. I intend to see that you are very happy.} His tongue darted out and stroked her palm, sending a delicious tremor through her body. Ah, Morgan, how long before you begin to hate me? When your people lose respect for you? When your family declares you insane? How long before you leave me too? "You're crazy, you know that?" Morgan smiled at her. {I've heard that word applied to me on more than one occasion, but ‘infuriating' tends to be Sabina's favorite.} "You're close to her, then?" Ariana hated the wistful tone in her voice. If only her brother hadn't died. Then maybe she wouldn't have felt so alone when her father left her. She hated feeling alone. {We're as close as twins can be.} Morgan grinned. "Twins," she whispered. That explained the telepathy. Twins were rare on Bellariss, and the few born were rumored to be very special. {But still, we're not as close as Sabina would like. She's under the mistaken impression that she's entitled to every thought and feeling I have.} "I don't understand." Was that remark directed toward her as well? He resented her empathic intrusion?

{Sabina isn't shy about finding out what she wants to know. In order to protect what shred of privacy I have, I had to learn to erect a mental barrier against her.} And against me, she thought. A rush of guilt filled her as she remembered how many times she'd tried to sense his emotions and had crashed into that wall. He had a right to his privacy, and she had no right to try and gain an advantage over him. {Unfortunately, it doesn't work the other way. She's far too generous about sharing things with me, and I haven't found a way to block it out.} His exaggerated grimace brought a smile to Ariana's lips. {When she first married Boyan, she decided that the best way to convince me of the benefits of having a wife was to share with me how she felt when they . . .} Ariana laughed. How embarrassing! "How did you face them in the morning?" {I didn't.} He grinned. {After a long, frustrating night like that, I was too tightly strung and aggravated to face anyone.} "What finally made her give up on that particular tactic? Or did she?" Ariana asked impishly, sifting her fingers through his silky hair. Seeing no humor in his expression, her hand stilled. {I asked Brinna to marry me.}

Chapter 17 I asked Brinna to marry me. Well, how the hell had he expected her to react to a statement like that? Not with jealous anger, not after she'd just promised to give him a chance to explain. Only when he'd tried, she'd decided she didn't want to hear any more. She turned her back on him and went to sleep. Damn her for her jealous streak, and damn him for his inability to lie. Telling the truth had only served to drive a wedge between them. He'd been trying to get her to talk to him all day, but she'd been coolly polite, repeating endlessly that it didn't matter, when it obviously did. Why couldn't she just let him explain? Drek! He didn't need his head filled with worries about their relationship when in just a short while they'd be sneaking into the cargo bay to commandeer that transport. They had a few minutes yet to air their

problems, and he intended to make the best of them. {Ariana--} She looked up from her terminal, an annoyed look on her face. "Don't start with me again. I told you, it doesn't matter." {It does matter, blast it!} The door chime beeped. "There they are. This pointless argument will have to wait." She rose from her chair and walked to the door to admit Chekron, Kerok and Gar. Morgan leaned back against her desk, folded his arms across his chest, and crossed his ankles. {I'm not going.} Four voices protested, Ariana's the loudest of all of them. "Don't do this, Morgan. Not now." Ariana hands clenched into fists, betraying her calm façade, as she stalked toward him. In her neat white and black uniform, she looked every inch the Jotnar officer she was. {It's now or never. I'm not walking out there with my mind on this when I need to be sharp. Now, are you going to listen to me? Or are you going to keep acting like a stubborn brat?} "Don't you dare question my behavior, not when you have the nerve to tell me that you're engaged to another woman," she whispered furiously. Morgan sighed and clamped his hands on her shoulders. {I am not engaged to another woman. Not anymore,} he said, his words for her mind alone. {Blast it, Ariana, are we going to have to go through this every time I send you a thought?} "No, of course not," she whispered, an embarrassed flush filling her cheeks. "I just didn't expect to hear--" {I never lie, Ariana. If you don't think you're going to like the answer, don't ask the question.} "You're right. I'm sorry. Last night, you were so tense--I was trying to relax you, to get your mind off today, and I only made things worse for both of us." Yes, you did, Morgan thought, and wrapped his arms around her. {It's all right.} He pressed a kiss to her forehead. {We'll talk about her when you're ready.} Ariana nodded, hiding her sniffle against his chest. "Can we talk about her now?" Gar cleared his throat. "Are we ready to go?"

{Give us just a minute.} Gar nodded, and Morgan led her over to the conference table. Sitting in one of the chairs, he pulled her onto his lap. Folding her hand in his, he stared into her troubled eyes as he began his tale. {I was seeing Brinna when Sabina wed Boyan. After experiencing Sabina's wedded bliss, I'd convinced myself that I loved her and couldn't wait to get the ribbons tied.} Ariana stiffened, and Morgan tightened his arms around her. {The council wanted her to take the worthiness test first, but I refused. I insisted it wasn't necessary. She loved me and that's all that mattered. Against my wishes, they tested her anyway. She failed.} "Oh, Morgan," Ariana whispered, tears in her eyes. He squeezed her fingers, accepting her sorrow on his behalf, but the pain of the memory had faded from his heart long ago. Now it was just a lesson to be remembered. {I didn't care that she'd failed. My heart told me that she was the one, my other half. Her love proved it. But they refused to accept her as the wife of their future king. I told them I'd renounce my claim on the throne so I could marry her. Brinna laughed in my face. She wanted the power I could give her. Without it, I held no appeal.} He'd been so sure in his heart that she'd been the one. Just as his heart told him now that Ariana was the one. How could he trust it to be right this time? Did he have a choice? {I was so devastated by her rejection that I took off for the family vacation house on the other side of the planet and went into seclusion.} Ariana wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I am so sorry. You really loved her, didn't you?" Morgan shook his head. {I let my heart overrule my head, and it was wrong. That's what bothered me most. I just didn't realize it until I found out that Drake had been banished in my absence. I promptly forgot about Brinna and immersed myself in trying to prove him innocent.} Ariana gave him a teary-eyed smile. "Guess you couldn't really be in love with someone and forget them that easily." {No, I couldn't.} Morgan kissed her soft lips. {Are you all right with this now?} he asked, letting the others into the conversation. Ariana sniffed, then nodded. {Good.} He rose from the chair, setting her on her feet. {Let's get it over

with.} "Here, I borrowed a weapon for you." Gar handed the blaster over with a sly smile. "Do you need one as well, Administrator?" "No, I have my own." Ariana patted her uniform pocket. A blaster? He'd seen her go into her safe this morning, but he'd thought it had been for some trinket she couldn't bear to leave behind, not to a retrieve a weapon. "Let's go," Ariana said, "The pilot's waiting." Following Gar out the door, Morgan kept Ariana close behind him and had Chekron and Kerok bringing up the rear. When they reached the cargo bay doors, they said goodbye to Gar, then quietly entered the bay. Ariana had arranged a drill in another part of the base, so the bay should have been empty when they arrived. It wasn't. "Going somewhere?" Grader and a troop of armed guards stood between them and the ship. "She set us up!" Chekron growled. "No," Ariana whispered in horror. {Run, now!} Morgan backed toward the doors. "I cannot allow you to do that," a purring male voice said from behind them. Morgan turned to find Kerok's blaster pointed at his chest. "My Novan friend is quite correct," Grader announced. "If you leave, then the hover-cam won't be able to record the proof of Administrator Zoltan's treasonous act, nor her subsequent death." For the first time, Morgan heard the quiet buzz of a hover-cam floating above them, recording every sound, every movement. "No!" Ariana cried. She yanked out her weapon and blasted the camera, then fired in Grader's direction. He dove to the floor, and the shot hit the guard behind him. The rest of the guards scattered for cover as Chekron drew his weapon and fired off a few shots as well. {You going to kill me, Kerok? Is that what this is about?} Morgan stared into the cat-man's eyes, ignoring the blaster aimed at him. {Either do it, or get out of the way. I don't have time to play.}

Kerok roared and charged, nearly plowing Morgan over as he leapt into Grader's group. Screams rose above the sound of blaster fire as Kerok's claws ripped into Jotnar flesh. {Go! I will delay them as long as I am able.} Morgan didn't take the time to question Kerok's change of heart. Grabbing Chekron and Ariana by the shoulders, he propelled them toward the waiting ship. The iris door in the ceiling above them began to open before their feet touched the ship's ramp. Bringing up the rear, Morgan turned to see Kerok running toward him. He also saw Grader, cheek slashed open, stand up behind Kerok and level his blaster on the cat-man's back. {Kerok, get down!} Morgan's warning came too late. Grader fired, and Kerok stumbled and fell. Firing off a volley of shots that had Grader diving for cover, Morgan ran to his fallen friend. "Morgan, hurry!" Chekron yelled, shooting over Morgan's head, keeping Grader and the Jotnar guards back. {Kerok!} Morgan knelt beside him and grasped his hand. Gods help him, there was nothing he could do. A puddle of blood had already pooled around Kerok, rapidly growing in size. {Gods, Kerok.} "My family...I only meant to protect them," Kerok whispered, his breath wheezing. "Enslaved...Della Nova II. You won't forget them ...because of me?" Morgan squeezed his hand gently, ignoring the pain when Kerok's claws cut into his palm. {I'll lead the assault myself. I give you my word.} Kerok nodded, then closed his eyes and drifted on to the next life. "Morgan! The pilot's taking off!" Chekron yelled. After giving Kerok's hand one last squeeze, Morgan leapt to his feet and ran for the ship. The ramp started rising before he reached it. He dove and hit the deck in a roll just before the hatch closed, sealing them all inside. "Are you all right?" Ariana helped him to his feet as the transport began to rise. "You didn't get shot? Oh, your hand--" {I'm fine.} He knew his reply was curt, and shrugging her off was even worse, but he was too angry to cater to her feelings. Damn Grader straight to hell! Chekron tore the sleeve from his coveralls and wrapped it around Morgan's hand. "Better find something in the emergency packs to clean

that out. God knows what Kerok sliced into, before those claws dug into you." His eyes clouded with pain as he turned away. "I'll go give the pilot our destination." Morgan watched him walk toward the cockpit and knew that Chekron must feel Kerok's loss even more deeply than he did. "He's right." Ariana turned her wounded gaze away from him. "I'll dig out a med-kit." "Shackles would be a better choice." Morgan whipped his gaze around to see Chekron back out of the cockpit with his hands raised. {Jaxon.} "Drop your weapons." The guard grinned, and pointed a second blaster at Morgan. "Surprised to see me, aren't you? The wildness in Jaxon's eyes warned Morgan that he'd better not test him, not yet. It appeared that the man barely held on to his control. Morgan dropped his blaster and nodded at Ariana to do the same. "Charm bracelets for our proud prince and the cripple, if you please, Administrator." Jaxon kept his stare on Morgan as he backed Chekron over to a seat. "You'll find them here, on the seat beside me." He fingered the shackle control on his belt, and Chekron's legs gave out, toppling him into the seat. Ariana didn't move, her gaze darting to Morgan then back to Jaxon. "Do it, or I'll blast a hole clear through him." {Go ahead,} Morgan whispered into her mind. {We'll have to do it his way--for now.} Ariana rushed to obey. She clamped a set of shackles around each of the their wrists, her eyes filled with apology as she did so. Jaxon gestured toward the two vacant seats behind the cockpit, across from Chekron and himself. "Have a seat, Your Highness. It looks like we've got a long flight ahead of us." Morgan felt the ship change course and gain speed. He waited for Ariana to seat herself, before he sat in the indicated flight-chair. The moment he did, Jaxon activated the shackle control, binding his and Chekron's wrists together. An hour passed with Ariana staring out the window, fidgeting in her chair, Chekron glaring at Ariana, and Jaxon watching Morgan with a

maniacal grin on his face. The longer Jaxon stared at him, the worse his fingers twitched on the blaster he held. Morgan didn't like it. Not when the barrel of the gun resting on Jaxon's knee pointed toward Ariana instead of himself. {Do your braces work?} Morgan whispered. Chekron stretched out his legs. {Think you can get that blaster away from him?} Chekron winked at him. {Ariana, distract him.} She gave Morgan a slight nod then stood and walked to the window. "Where are we going?" She peered out at the quickly moving landscape. "To the Guild settlement, of course." Jaxon said, not moving his gaze from Morgan. "Then we'll sit back and wait for Commander Grader to arrive with a transport to take you and all of the slaves you've helped to escape back to the base." "You're insane." Chekron glared at him. "The moment we step off this transport, you'll be dead." His meaningful look seemed to include Ariana as well. That didn't sit well with Morgan, not at all. Jaxon laughed. "With a prize like this in my hands?" He pointed to Morgan. "I don't think so." "What makes you think the Guild cares what happens to him?" Chekron asked. "Believe me, they do. I have inside information. The Magician wants him bad. He'll see him protected." "The Magician wants him dead." Chekron's gaze moved briefly from Morgan's eyes to his chest and back. The tattoo. Morgan gave him a slight nod, thinking he understood what Chekron was trying to do. Unbalance him, force him to make a move now. Ariana released an outraged gasp. "That's not true!" "It is true." Chekron glared at her. "He's Guild, and he betrayed the Magician. No one betrays the Magician and lives." Jaxon looked uneasy as his gaze darted back and forth between them. "If he's Guild, where's his tattoo?" "On his chest." "There's no tattoo on his chest!" Ariana insisted. She strode over to where Morgan sat. With barely a look of apology, she yanked the front of

his coveralls open. "See, his chest is bare!" She smiled triumphantly down at him. {Put your palm over my heart and hold it there for a few seconds.} Ariana's expression froze. "Why?" she whispered. {Just do it.} She did, and when she pulled her hand away, the blood-red mark was there for all to see. She jerked back and whispered, "Goddess above." Morgan kept his gaze fixed on Jaxon. The man's body went deadly still. "Well then, the Magician will thank me for this." Jaxon whipped up his blaster and fired just as Morgan grabbed Ariana and dove for the floor. She screamed, hitting the floor with a painful-sounding thud. Before Morgan could move, Jaxon stood over him and aimed again. The shuttle lurched, knocking him off balance. Chekron tackled Jaxon and struggled to disarm him as Morgan rolled onto his knees. One of Chekron's hands groped at Jaxon's belt for the shackle control. When he found it, Morgan's shackles pulled even tighter, then suddenly released altogether. Jaxon fired again, this time blasting a hole clear through the ceiling of the transport. "Goddess preserve us," Ariana whispered, just before they crashed. A moan of pain drew Morgan awake. Something jabbed his back. Reaching under him, he found Jaxon's blaster. But where was Jaxon? He sat up slowly, his battered body protesting and found Chekron beside him, rubbing the back of his head. Jaxon hung half out of the shattered window--dead. The floor beneath them shifted, sending them rushing to their feet. Morgan shoved the blaster in his pocket as he urgently searched for Ariana. A section of the seats had loosened from their moorings and were now in a heap in the corner. The floor shifted violently, knocking them down. Their gazes clashed as they realized the same thing. A sink hole. They had to get out, now. Morgan rushed to the jumble of seats, knowing Ariana had to be under there. "No, she's dead," Chekron said, grabbing Morgan's arm. Morgan shrugged him off and started tossing chairs out of the way. She had to be alive. He would know if she were dead, he just would.

"Damn, stubborn fool. If it'll get you off this ship any faster...." Chekron muttered and started helping him clear away the mess. At last they uncovered her. She lay curled up in a ball, bruised and unconscious, but not dead. Morgan saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest as he knelt down beside her. Knowing they had to hurry, he gently checked her for broken bones, but didn't find any. His probing fingers found a large knot on the back of her head. She moaned. The floor lurched, sending them sliding hard into the corner. "We've got to get out of here!" Chekron rushed to the back of the shuttle, threw open the door to the storage compartment, and yanked out three packs. Emergency supplies. He caught Chekron's gaze and, holding up three fingers, raised his eyebrow in question. Chekron flushed. "That's all that's in here." Grinning at the lie, Morgan slapped open the hatch control while Chekron struggled with the packs on the tilted floor. He could see how far the edge of the sinkhole was. It would be quite a jump. Chekron tossed him one of the packs. Morgan slipped it onto his back, then gathered Ariana into his arms. "No!" Morgan ignored him, backing up as far as he could go, then made a running leap. His feet landed safely on the other side. He lay Ariana down and gave in to the urge to touch her, just the tip of his finger along her cheek. So soft. Sighing, he turned back to the shuttle. Chekron came barreling out with a leap that landed two feet short. The surprise on his face was priceless, but Morgan didn't give in to the temptation to grin. Bracing his feet, he reached out and grasped Chekron's outstretched arm. Loaded down with packs the way he was, it wasn't easy, but Morgan pulled him out. Backing up a few steps, Morgan readied himself to make the leap again. Chekron grabbed his ankle. "The pilot's dead too." Morgan nodded then scanned their surroundings. It would be dark soon and already the air was taking on a chill. They would have to find some shelter. He saw a stand of trees to the west and mountains beyond them, silhouetted by the setting sun. They'd find more shelter beneath the canopy of the trees than out here in the open.

"Guild protects their own," Chekron said in an ominous whisper. Turning to face him, Morgan found Chekron's blaster pointed at Ariana. {Chekron, no!} He took a step toward him. Chekron winced, but the blaster remained steady. "After all she's done to you, how can you think about saving her?" {There's nothing to think about. What she did saved my life.} And it was the truth. All along she'd been trying to save his worthless hide, only he'd been too stubborn to see it. He moved slowly toward Chekron, careful not to spook him. {I can't let you hurt her.} "You're not thinking straight. She's Jotnar--the enemy." {She is my heart.} Chekron's face reddened with fury, his hand tightening on the weapon. "You owe me." {I owe you my life, not hers.} "Guild protects their own, Morgan. Looks like I've got to protect you from yourself. Stand aside." {No. We're bonded. If you kill her, you kill me.} "You're lying." Chekron's eyes narrowed. {No.} If she died, he'd have no reason to live. She was his heart and soul. If not for her, he would have passed on to the next life long ago. Chekron must have seen the truth in his eyes. "Drek! All right, I won't kill her, damn it, but only if you give me your weapon." Chekron held out his hand. {Why?} "She's drugged you or something, and I'm not about to let you walk around with a fully-charged weapon until it's had time to wear off." Fine, Morgan would concede him that much, as long as Ariana was safe. {How do I know you won't kill her as soon as I've handed it over?} "I give you my word on it, and a Guild never goes back on his word." His look accused Morgan of doing just that. {I never said I'd let you kill her, Chekron.} Morgan met his stare evenly. {When we get back to Bellariss, I can give you damn near anything you want, but I can't give you her life.} "Give me the blaster," Chekron ground out between clenched teeth. Slowly reaching into his pocket, Morgan pulled out the blaster and

handed it to him. "When you've come to your senses, I'll give it back." Chekron stuck it into his belt, Jaxon's utility belt with the shackle control, then dropped one of the emergency packs at Ariana's feet. "Let's go." Morgan moved toward Ariana. "Leave her. They'll find her soon enough, and take her to the base." Morgan shook his head. {I'm not going without her.} "She'll only slow us down." Morgan shook his head again. "Fine! But don't expect me to carry her. She's all yours." I wouldn't trust you to, he thought. Sending Chekron a glare that should have told him exactly what he was thinking, he bent to gather Ariana gently in his arms. "Blasted fool. She's going to break your heart," Chekron muttered. She just might, Morgan thought, but it didn't matter as long as she was alive to do it. Saying nothing further, he trudged off toward the trees, leaving Chekron to grab Ariana's pack and follow. He had to force himself to keep his eyes on the terrain and off Ariana. They had to dodge sinkholes as they came upon them. Some of them were huge, like the one that swallowed the shuttle, taking nearly an hour to navigate around. Others were just large enough to swallow a man, if he wasn't careful. The sun had completely set when they finally made it to the forest. The denseness of the foliage above their heads blocked the moonlight that had illuminated their way. It only took a few seconds for Morgan to regain his night sight, a gift from his stay in the Jotnar prison. The pit only had a fraction of the light this forest had. It was like comparing night to day, this being day. As he eyed the thick foliage, he wondered what kind of predators lurked within its darkness. It didn't matter. He had no idea how far they'd traveled before the crash, but he did know that they needed to put some distance between them and the base. If Grader was searching for them, they'd be better protected within the forest. Ariana shivered, drawing his attention to how cold it had gotten. He gently set her down and pulled off his pack. There had to be something in here to wrap around her.

"What are you doing? We have to keep moving." Morgan ignored him and rummaged through the pack until he found what he sought. Chekron nudged him just as his hand closed around what he needed. "I told you she'd slow us down. Leave her and let's go." Shouldering his pack, Morgan glared at him, then turned back to Ariana and shook out the thin silver heat-reflective cocoon. Chekron snorted with disgust then crouched to help him slide Ariana into it. Bundled up so nothing but her face showed, she was once again cradled against his chest. There was something about this woman that drew him like a moth to a flame, and that bothered him more than he cared to admit. He felt so out of control, but he couldn't blame it on the bond. It was more than that, and he knew it. He loved her, and gods help him, he intended to see her safely home to Bellariss. As he carefully trudged on, picking his way around fallen trees, rocks, and tall vegetation, he realized that this was more than a stand of trees--it was a jungle. Vines grabbed at his feet, tripping him up. The sharp tips of branches tore at his face, arms and clothing. The smell of wet, rotting vegetation was so strong, it nearly gagged him. He didn't want to be in here later, when the heat of the day made it even worse. A hiss near his ear sent him leaping forward, his grip tightened on Ariana's soft body, as he quickly made his way beyond whatever it was. This place was treacherous. There was a muffled thump, then he heard Chekron swear. "How long are we going to trudge around in the dark?" Morgan scanned the area in front of him. {I think I see a clearing up ahead.} "How?" Chekron mumbled. "I can't see my hand in front of my face." Drake would love this, Morgan thought, grinning. This would be a game to him, just like all the survival training Shay had forced on them when they were young. Drake the predator, Morgan the pray. He'd lost count of how many times Drake had caught him unawares and said, "You're dinner, Ugly." A deep growl high above him snapped him out of his thoughts. He glanced around, but didn't see anything except Chekron. Still, he couldn't help feeling that survival training would come in handy tonight. It wasn't a game this time, and he didn't intend to become some animal's dinner.

Morgan didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. Sighing, he gave up struggling with the shackles that bound his wrists behind him. With his back against a tree, and his legs shackled in front of him, he wasn't going anywhere. Nor would he be able to defend himself when they attacked. Blasted fool! He glared at Chekron across the fire. Didn't he realize the danger? Damn him and his wounded pride! As soon as they'd made it into the clearing, Chekron had turned his blaster on Morgan, saying that he didn't trust him not to jump him while he slept. Apparently Morgan's word wasn't worth spit anymore. He cursed his lack of speech. Had he been able to talk like a normal person, he could have explained the danger of having a fire, could have explained his need to be armed. Not that Chekron would have listened. He'd obviously grown used to Morgan's telepathic intrusions. So used to them in fact, that he was able to tune Morgan's whispers out. He was afraid to try anything louder. If he incapacitated Chekron while he was still bound to the tree, they'd all be dead. Drek! He couldn't see beyond the fire's glow. But they can see us. They were out there, watching. He felt it. And they were getting ready to attack. He sensed it the same way he had when he'd been deep in the bowels of the pit. If Chekron didn't release him, and trust him with a weapon, they were going to die. The fine hair on the back of his neck rose. Morgan jerked his gaze up, trying to see where the threat was. "What is it?" His shackles instantly released as Chekron stood and looked up. "Did you hear something?" Morgan pulled himself to feet, shaking the feeling back into his arms. He tried, but couldn't see what lay beyond the circle of firelight. {Give me a blaster.} Chekron scowled at him and shook his head. A lone cry broke the stillness of the night. Another answered it, then another, and another. They were surrounded. Morgan took one glance at Ariana's sleeping form and strode toward Chekron, determined to take a weapon from him. He wasn't about to stand here and do nothing while she became some cat's meal. Chekron handed him the blaster from his belt without hesitation and drew his own. Back to back, with Ariana on the ground between them, they stared out into the night and waited.

Chapter 18 Morgan's gaze darted about, trying to pinpoint where the cats were. He guessed they were cats anyway, and by the sound of deep their growls, very large ones. He didn't dare close his eyes and let his ears locate them. Blast. If only the fire hadn't blinded his night vision. If he were to douse it now, he would most likely be dead before his eyes could adjust, and Chekron would be useless without the light. His gaze jerked to a stop, ensnared by a glowing pair of orange eyes directly in front of him. Strange eyes. Their irises glowed around inky-black diamond-shaped pupils. Cat's eyes. The eyes narrowed for a brief second, but it was enough of a warning. Snarling, it leaped just as Morgan fired. The cat hit the ground with a heavy thud. Narrow white stripes streaked through its long, thick black fur, reminding him of the orange and black hunters on Bellariss. Chekron swore then fired. Morgan glanced behind him in time to see another cat hit the ground, it's carcass smoking from the blaster burn. Chekron met his gaze with a nod, then his eyes widened. Morgan whirled but it was too late to aim. He hit the ground hard. His weapon flew from his hand, landing out of reach. The cat's claws tore into his chest as he struggled to hold those lethal jaws away from his face. Its hot, rancid breath washed across his face. Gods, it was strong. Intent on surviving, Morgan barely heard the blasts from Chekron's weapon before the cat collapsed atop him, forcing the air from his lungs. Gasping for breath, he shoved with all his might, rolling the cat off him. There was still one more. Ignoring his burning chest, he surged to his knees. Chekron looked unconcerned, almost smug. Then Morgan noticed how many cats littered the ground, four. Chekron had killed three to his one and obviously felt pretty good about it. Morgan grinned. Chekron had saved his life again. If he wanted to gloat about it, so be it. "Morgan?" Ariana. He turned to kneel beside her as she reached out to him. He pressed his lips against the back of her hand.

"You're hurt." She tried to rise. Morgan shook his head, pressing her back down. "But you need help." He shook his head again and brushed his lips against her forehead. {I'm all right.} She sighed and closed her eyes, drifting back into healing sleep. He hoped that by tomorrow she'd be back to her old self. He didn't like this protective coma her body put her in. It worried him, even though he'd read on her terminal that it was normal for Cantarans. "Cat got you, eh?" Chekron frowned down on him. "We better get that cleaned out and bandaged up. Don't want to risk an infection." Morgan nodded and unfastened the front of his coveralls. They had to hurry. The smell of blood would attract more predators. He reached for one of the packs, but Chekron brushed his hand away. "I'll do it." He doctored the bloody furrows with the speed and expertise of a medic. After they were cleaned and sanitized, he pulled out a small gadget that looked like a miniature laser cutter. Morgan glanced at him questioningly. "It's a small healing light. It will stop the bleeding." Morgan sat perfectly still as Chekron worked his way across his chest. It sure as hell felt like a laser cutter. "I'm finished. Do you want something for the pain?" Chekron asked, gathering his supplies back into the med-kit. Morgan shook his head. He needed all his senses sharp, not groggy from sedatives, nor distracted by pain. Closing his eyes, he concentrated until the pain slowly floated away to the back of his awareness, where he could control and keep it at bay. Suddenly alert, he opened his eyes. They had to leave, now. "What?" Morgan glanced at the dead cats, then pointed out into the night. {We have to go.} He didn't try to explain more than that. Instead, he grabbed up his pack and strode toward the fire. Chekron still stared at him. Sighing in frustration, Morgan gestured toward Chekron's packs, then started kicking dirt over the fire.

"What are you doing?" Chekron grabbed his arm. Morgan pointed at the cats then again toward the dark forest. {We have to leave. More are coming.} He didn't know how else to make him understand. They needed to leave, now. He only hoped that the dead would satisfy their hunger. He finished with the fire, shrouding them in darkness. After the brightness of the fire, it took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust. Chekron stumbled and cursed. "Crazy! Where are we going to go in the dark?" He made it to his packs, obviously, because a glow lamp burst to life in his hands, casting a blue glow around him. Morgan threw up his hands, not wanting his night vision to be affected again. He grabbed the lamp away from him and extinguished it. {No light.} "We can't see where we're going in the dark!" Chekron tried to grab the light back. Morgan took his hand and placed it on his shoulder. "You can see?" Not bothering with a gesture he knew Chekron wouldn't see, he lead him over to where Ariana lay, then stooped to pick her up. With her safely in his arms, Morgan once again led them into the night, toward the mountains. Chekron's grip on his shoulder tightened almost painfully when, barely a quarter hour into their journey, the sounds of scavengers tearing into the carcasses of the dead cats floated toward them on the breeze. Ariana felt like she was floating through the air, yet her cheek was pressed against something warm and firm. She rubbed her cheek against the warmth, breathing deeply the spicy male scent that was familiar but distinctly not Morgan's. Not Morgan's? Her eyes popped open to stare at the wall of Chekron's chest and pain sliced through her skull. She didn't know which was worse, the terrible throbbing in her head or the fact that he was carrying her. How dare he lay hands on her after what he did! She lifted her gaze to meet his. "Put me down." She squirmed in his grasp, wanting him to let her go. She did not want his hands on her. He nearly got Morgan killed with that stupid stunt on the transport, and she wouldn't forgive him, nor forget about it. Her pain seemed to make her anger flare even hotter. "Put me down!"

Chekron ignored her and kept walking. "I swear, if you don't put me down right now--" "Maybe this would be a good time to rest." He dropped her on her feet so abruptly, she lost her balance and landed hard on her bottom. "What do you say, Morgan? I've been carrying this bitch all morning." Ariana strained to peer around Chekron's legs and saw Morgan, loaded down with packs and exhausted, stopping behind them. He gazed down at her, his heart in his eyes, and held out his hand. She glared at Chekron until he shrugged and moved away, then reached out for Morgan's hand. He helped her to her feet, then turned toward a small clearing and led her to a fallen log. Ariana held her questions only long enough for Morgan to shed his packs and drop down on the ground beside her. "What happened? Why are we walking through the jungle?" Morgan's face showed surprise. {You don't remember the crash?} Crash? Pictures flashed through her mind. Jaxon aiming a blaster at Morgan. A fight. The sight of the ground rushing up to meet them through the window. She remembered it all and shuddered. "I do. So where do we go now?" {We're heading toward the mountains. Chekron thinks the Guild settlement is nearby.} Ariana stiffened, remembering the conversation they'd had about the Guild on the ship. Had it all been a lie? Or would Morgan be put in danger by going there? Chekron approached, holding out a water bottle. She glared at his outstretched hand. "I don't want anything from you." She ignored the pain that briefly showed in his eyes before they turned hard and cold. "It's not for you," he snapped, tossing the bottle to Morgan, then went back to rummaging through his pack. Ariana turned her attention to Morgan, who drank from the bottle then handed it to her. She smiled her thanks and received a frown in return. {He's a good man.} "How can you defend him? He tried to get you killed." Morgan shook his head.

"He hates me," she grumbled, sounding too much like a pouting child. His hatred was obvious, but why? {He thinks you're responsible for the damage done to his legs.} Morgan's gaze bore into her as if he were searching for the proof of her involvement. Her crystal pulsed against her hand. Ariana gasped, her braceleted hand covering her mouth in horror. "Oh, goddess. He's the one I used this on, the one Grader took to interrogation." She remembered everything now, the screams that echoed through the corridors, the helplessness she'd felt knowing that he'd suffered because of her. "I didn't know he'd done that. Interrogate, yes, because he'd been planning to escape, but I didn't know about that." {And now he thinks I betrayed him.} Morgan watched Chekron, a pained expression on his face. {I owe him, but I couldn't let him kill you.} "You owe him?" Why in the world would Morgan owe that hot-headed criminal anything? She was certain, now, that Chekron was Guild, no doubt an assassin like the Magician. Chekron paused, a protein bar halfway to his mouth, and met her stare. He shoved the bar into his pocket, turned and strode out of sight. {He's saved my life more times than I can remember.} And you had to betray him because of me, she thought, her heart aching over the pain Morgan must be feeling. "You should go after him." Morgan shook his head, watching Chekron disappear through the trees. {He'll come back.} Chekron returned a few moments later. He barely glanced at them before he dropped down on the ground, pillowed his head with his pack, and closed his eyes. Morgan rose and held a hand out to her. {Come. I'll find you a place to take care of your personal needs.} She took his hand and stood. Her head swam, making her clutch Morgan's arm for support. She glanced back at Chekron, but he hadn't moved. He hated her, with good reason. What she couldn't understand was why his hatred bothered her so much. Morgan whistled softly. The sound of it startled her, and jerked Chekron's attention to them. Morgan held up his finger. Chekron nodded and closed his eyes. {We'll rest an hour, then we'll move on.}

When Morgan returned from a short trip into the brush, he found Ariana sitting slumped over, with her head cradled in her hands. She's in pain. Chekron glanced at him, so he motioned him over. She needed something for the pain, and Chekron knew more about field medicine than he did. "What is it? Time to go?" Morgan nodded. It was time to get going if they intended to make it up the mountain by nightfall. Chekron turned toward the packs. Morgan stopped him. He rummaged through his own pack and found a small med-kit. He pointed to Ariana, his head, then put the kit in Chekron's hands. Chekron's eyes lit with understanding, then clouded over. "No, I'm not helping her." {Please.} Chekron sighed. "All right, I'll do it, but for you--not her." He turned and strode toward Ariana. She glanced up at him warily but, to Morgan's relief, didn't refuse Chekron's offer of medication. Morgan shouldered his pack and approached her. Her face showed signs of relief, and by the time he crossed the distance between them, she stood facing him somewhat unsteadily. He reached out the same time she flailed for support. Her touch scorched him, sending a fire coursing through his veins. He stifled his gasp of surprise. She smiled her thanks, then her gaze turned uncertain. "If I asked you a question, would you answer me honestly?" He nodded. Of course he would, as best as he was able. She should know that by now. "That tattoo on your chest...are you Guild?" She looked as if she already knew the answer, but just needed confirmation. Morgan rubbed the back of his neck absently and shook his head. No, he wasn't Guild. He just happened to bear the same mark. "Then why--?" {I can't explain.} How could he tell her how he had come by the mark without betraying Drake? He couldn't. Shaking himself from his thoughts, he found her staring up at him, her eyelids drooping. That pain

medication must have been a bit strong for her, probably dosed for a much heavier man. He grabbed her just as her knees gave out, and swooped her up into his arms. "No," she protested weakly. "I want to walk." {Shhh....} He adjusted her in his arms. She sighed, laying her cheek against his chest. Morgan groaned silently at the contact. She was so warm, so alive, and he wanted her more than he'd wanted any other woman in his life. His heart couldn't be wrong. Not this time. Her contentment wrapped around him like a mist, making him stiffen. He felt her emotions again. The bond seemed to be getting stronger. With their combined psychic abilities, how far would it go? When Chekron was ready, Morgan turned and headed for the mountain. He rubbed his chin against the softness of her hair, breathing in her scent. Wildflowers and spice. Beautiful, just like her. What was he thinking? Now wasn't the time for his body to be searching for the closeness he'd found with her. When he got her home to Bellariss, he'd have plenty of time show her all the different ways there were to get close. He forced himself to ignore the warm bundle of soft flesh in his arms, forced himself to push away those inconvenient feelings of longing, and instead concentrated on the jungle floor. The way his mind was wandering, he could step right on a serpent and not even notice until after it bit him. After an hour, the trail ahead of him grew brighter. They were nearing the end of the jungle. When he got to the edge, the trees cleared, allowing him to view the mountain--steep, rocky, and dotted with green and red foliage. "We'll have to find a cave for shelter tonight." Chekron stopped beside him. "Looks like we're in for a storm." Morgan forced back the urge to shudder. He had no choice. The breeze out here in the open had a crispness about it, and sure enough, the sky had taken on an angry hue. Taking a deep breath, he shifted Ariana's weight once more and started walking. Chekron sat with his back to the cool cave wall, watching as Morgan turned away from the mouth of the cave and strode past him to check on Ariana. His respect for the man grew every time he did that. At first, Morgan's strange behavior bugged him. When they first found the cave, Morgan shoved Ariana into his arms then ran into the cave, blasters

blazing, only to come out a few seconds later and say the cave was safe. Why wouldn't it be safe? Then Morgan made her a bed of leaves, tucked her in tight, then turned and walked out, leaving him alone with her. A huge act of faith, as far as he was concerned. A quarter hour later, Morgan walked in with a load of firewood, built up a fire, then left again. Another quarter hour went by when he came back to check on her. Chekron got really annoyed, ready to demand to know what in the name of the gods was wrong with him. Then he saw how bad Morgan shook as he leaned over her and how quick his breathing was. Morgan's claustrophobic. That's why he wouldn't see her stupid bugs. That's why, even now, he strode back to the mouth of the cave. He paused, glancing over his shoulder at Chekron, then nodded toward the darkness outside the cave, where the air had turned frigid and the wind howled like an angry banshee. Thunder rumbled in the distance, telling him that any moment the clouds could open up and deliver the icy rain their dark presence promised all afternoon. "Go. I'll look after her." Morgan met his gaze for a long moment then turned and disappeared into the night. I'll keep her safe for you, Chekron thought, staring at the empty spot where Morgan had been. I've finally realized that you love her, you poor bastard. I only hope she doesn't break your heart. Across the cave, Ariana stirred restlessly. She'd be waking soon and would probably be starving. He knew he was ready to eat. His stomach rumbled, seconding the thought, but he didn't want any more of those dry, tasteless protein bars. He reached over and grabbed one of the supply packs. He thought he remembered seeing some dehydrated meals in there. Hopefully, they'd taste better. He found a dozen of the meals at the bottom of the pack. There were only three kinds, all stew: land fowl, vegetable, and rockboar. Shrugging, he grabbed three of the pouches, not caring what kind. Stew was stew. He doubted there'd be any difference in the way they tasted. In the collapsible pot he found in the pack, he mixed the right amount of water in with the stew then set the pot on a hot, flat rock inside the fire circle. Soon, the mixture began to bubble, filling the air with the smell of vegetables and spices. Ariana rustled in her bedding and moaned. Chekron moved to her side.

She thrashed wildly, her head tossing back and forth. No, not feverish, her forehead felt cool under his hand. "No! Oh, Morgan." His name came out in a wail of agony. Chekron gently shook her shoulder. Her eyes flew open, and she screamed. "You killed him! You killed him!" She hit him on the face and chest with her closed fists while he struggled to hold her still without hurting her. Then Morgan was there, scooping her up into his arms. {Shhh....} He rocked her gently as she sobbed into his chest. {I'm sorry, I should have been here.} "Oh, Morgan. I thought he killed you," she sobbed. Chekron felt like he'd been stabbed in the heart. He knew she'd been caught in a dream, but it still hurt. She was the enemy here, not him. All he'd ever done was try to protect Morgan. "Thank the goddess you're safe." "Yes, I'm safe." Morgan's raspy whisper surprised them all. Wide-eyed and now completely awake, Ariana stared with wonder written all over her face. "You spoke," she said in a reverent whisper. Morgan hugged her. "Does your head still hurt?" The words came out slowly, as if he was testing his newly returned voice. "Just a little." She rubbed her cheek against his chest. A look of pure agony crossed Morgan's face, but Chekron wasn't so sure that it was because of the wound under her cheek. Chekron turned his back on them and busied himself with the stew. He didn't want to think about Morgan's feelings for Ariana. He had a hard enough time dealing with his own. He'd heard what she'd told Morgan and, for some reason, wanted to believe her. He shook his head. She's Jotnar, isn't she? They can't be trusted. Then why did he get the feeling that he knew her from another time, or another place? No, you're having second thoughts because Morgan trusts her, and you respect him. That's all it is. That's all it could be. Releasing a disgusted sigh, Chekron rose and strode out of the cave.

Chapter 19

Morgan watched Chekron go and wished he were right behind him. If not for Ariana's nightmare, he'd still be out there. Cursing himself for a coward, he hugged her tighter to his chest. She needed him now and all he could think about was running from his fears. "Morgan, you're trembling." She pulled her head back to gaze up at him. "Are you all right?" He nodded. "Your skin feels cold. Were you outside?" When he nodded again, she seemed pleased with his answer. He was thankful she didn't question him further. How could he admit that he was as frightened of this cave as a child was of the sleep-demon? Ariana's stomach grumbled loudly, bringing a blush to her cheeks and a smile to his lips. "I'll see if the food is ready." He gently set her down on the bedding. Gods, his voice sounded so rusty and foreign. He supposed he should be thankful he had one now, even if it was little more than a whisper. He bent over the pot simmering next to the fire. Some sort of stew. The aroma wafted up to his nostrils and his queasy stomach roiled in protest. Clenching his eyes shut, he took a deep breath and vowed that he wouldn't embarrass himself in front of her. Another deep breath, and he was able to open his eyes. He dished her up a small helping of the stew, grabbed an eating utensil and a bottle of water, and went back to her. "Are you sure you're all right?" She stared up at him, a worried frown on her face. He pressed the dish into her hand, urging her to eat. She tried valiantly to keep herself and the plate upright, coming very close to sloshing stew all over herself. He took the dish from her, setting it on the floor, then sat back against the cool stone wall and pulled her between his spread legs. Once her back rested against his chest, he lifted the dish and set it on her lap. She sighed. "Thank you." Not having to hold herself up, she was able to eat with little trouble. Once she emptied her plate and had a few sips of water, she lay her head back against his shoulder. "You're so warm." Her voice sounded like a contented purr. Over-warm, he thought as she snuggled into a more comfortable position. With her hot little body scorching him wherever she touched, Morgan felt near to boiling. He shifted his position on the floor, knowing

the action would do little good. She couldn't help but notice his throbbing erection pressing into her back. He prayed she would ignore it. Her answering desire washed over him with the rush of an incoming tide. It swirled around him, tugged at him, threatened to pull him under. When her palm pressed against his thigh, the jolt that passed through him stole his breath. The need to kiss her was stronger than his need for air. He fought against it, clenching his fists to keep from touching her. This wasn't the time or place. But when she lifted her face and he stared into her dark passion-filled eyes, he was lost. With a low groan that started deep in his chest, Morgan lowered his mouth to hers. A loud throat-clearing yanked him violently from his passion. He pulled his lips away from Ariana's, wrenching a moan of protest from her. Struggling to slow his erratic breathing, Morgan set her away from him and stood, facing Chekron's angry glare. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat. Then the walls seemed to close in on him, urging him to leave. He strode toward the exit without a second thought. "Morgan?" "I'm sorry," he whispered, then turned away from her. He didn't stop walking until he was enveloped by the night, the harsh wind cooling his ardor. He had no business kissing her, no business wanting her, not now. Not when he knew that Chekron would return. Not when he knew that he couldn't have stopped once her passion had flamed out of control. He couldn't have left her in that kind of pain. With a sigh of self-disgust, Morgan ignored the wind's biting chill and set himself to the task of gathering more wood for the fire. They'd need it if it got any colder, and he needed something to occupy his mind besides a chestnut-haired beauty with fiery green eyes and lips soft as rose petals. He scowled at the fallen branch at his feet. He had to get a hold of himself. Gods, if being in love meant that he couldn't concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes without his mind wandering, he wasn't so sure he wanted it. Like you have a choice, he snorted, and stooped to pick up the branch. The gray bark was rough against his palms as he snapped the smaller twigs off the thicker core of the branch. His mind strayed once again to Ariana. He was no longer mute, but the possibility that he was sterile still

remained. How long would it be before she resented him for not giving her children? Regardless of what she said, he didn't know a woman who didn't dream of having a family. Was he doing her a disservice by expecting her to marry him? The bond was his problem, not hers. Maybe, once he was sure she'd be safe, he should let her go. The branch snapped between his fisted hands. The noise jolted his thoughts back to what he was supposed to be doing. For the next two hours, Morgan did nothing more than scavenge the side of the mountain for more fuel. Not even a raging storm could get him to go into that cave a moment before he had to. Ariana tossed a tiny twig on the fire then glanced back at the mouth of the cave where Chekron sat in stony silence with his back to her. She sighed, tossed another twig and watched as the golden flames consumed it. Men were so blasted moody! All she'd done was complain that his timing left something to be desired and then asked him to go after Morgan. He'd told her that Morgan could see better than a cat and could look after himself, then had promptly turned away from her. Where was Morgan anyway? How long had he been gone now? She glanced at the small chronometer pinned above her left breast. Almost two and a half hours, and the rain had started over an hour ago. What was he doing that took so long? Had he found shelter to wait out the storm? Then a thought hit her, making her sick inside. Had he met up with one of the many prides of razorcats that roamed this area of the planet? Goddess protect him, they'd tear him apart! Ariana leapt to her feet. Chekron would go out and search whether he wanted to or not. As she opened her mouth to speak, lightning flashed, outlining Morgan in the mouth of the cave. Her relief at seeing him safe was so overwhelming, she nearly launched herself into his arms to welcome him back with a hundred kisses. He barely looked in her direction, moving past her on the opposite side of the fire. Without even glancing at her, he added a few logs to the fire then stood, heading back to the entrance. Was it her imagination or had his hands trembled when he fed the logs into the fire? "Morgan, you're not going back out?" How could he even consider it? He was drenched and shivering with cold. He stiffened at the mouth of the cave, but didn't turn around. The only answer she received was the slight shake of his head before he dropped

down on the ground and sat facing the night, his back to the warmth of the cave. What was wrong with him? Surely that kiss hadn't upset him, not after the intimacy they'd shared? Was he embarrassed to face Chekron after he'd interrupted them? Somehow, she didn't think so. So then what was wrong? Whatever the reason, she wasn't about to about to let him sit there and freeze. Ariana crossed to him, determined to get him back to the warmth of the fire. The closer she came, the colder she became. A shiver ran down her spine, rising chill bumps all over her body. She hugged herself tight, wishing she'd worn something more substantial than her uniform or at least had thought to bring a jacket. "Morgan, you should come warm yourself by the fire." "I'm not cold," he whispered. At least, that's what she thought he said. She barely heard him. Men! Her breath left her in a huff. How could they be so stubborn? She could see the tremors wracking his large body. He had to be freezing. How could he deny being cold? "Morgan, please." Ariana touched his shoulder and immediately recoiled. How could someone who'd just spent more than two hours in a frigid rainstorm, without the benefit of a coat, be so warm to the touch? His clothing and skin should be chilled through, yet he was warm, too warm. His wet clothing felt like it had been dipped in hot water. "Are you all right?" Sighing, Morgan turned and leaned back against the cave wall with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath before answering. "I don't care much for caves," he whispered. "Because of the dreams?" she asked softly, remembering the scene at the plant. His lids flew up, his gaze snaring hers. He stared at her long and hard before he finally shrugged. She waited, hoping he'd tell her what happened but he said nothing. A shrug was better than no answer at all, she supposed. "Come with me." She held out her hand. "You need to dry out your clothes before you become ill." He stared at her outstretched hand for so long that she finally dropped it back to her side. "Chekron, tell him." She turned toward him, hoping for aid in her

argument. Chekron glanced from her to Morgan, then shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to the storm. Ariana stomped back into the heart of the cave and dug through one of the supply packs until she found one of the thin thermal blankets. All the while, she grumbled about stubborn men and how maybe the old govern collars weren't such a bad thing. She sat back on her heels with the blanket in hand and sighed. She didn't really mean what she'd just thought. Stubborn or not, at least he was himself. The govern collars had formed the men into whatever their women wanted them to be. Usually, they wanted them helpless. Morgan glanced up at her approach and caught the small folded bundle she tossed at him. "You want to sit here and shiver, go ahead, but give me those wet coveralls so I can dry them by the fire." She stood there, hands on hips, and waited. With a weary sigh, he yanked off his boots. They landed on the floor beside him with a soft thud. He handed her the blanket then stood and started opening the fasteners down the front of his coveralls. Ariana's throat went dry. Her heart skipped a beat each time a fastener popped and revealed another few tantalizing inches of warm, golden skin. His hand stilled at his waist, and she licked her dry lips in anticipation. Goddess above, this man was definitely a gift from the heavens. Several moments went by, yet he still didn't move. She raised her eyes and met his smoldering gaze. His eyes were nearly black. With what? Passion? His eyebrow raised. "Do you wish more from me than my clothes?" Ariana turned abruptly, her face flooding with heat. By the goddess! She was staring at him like a starved gorthon that had cornered its pray. Still, she couldn't help the rebellious thought that entered her mind. {You know I do.} He chuckled softly, and she couldn't help smiling. It was just so good to hear any kind of sound from him, even if it was at her expense. Chekron scowled at her and looked away again. Ariana's grin faded. What could she do to fix things between them? She hated to be at odds with him when he meant so much to Morgan. Damp forest-green coveralls flopped over her right shoulder, startling her. She handed the blanket over her left shoulder. Once he took it from her, she walked to the fire and draped his wet clothing over a large rock. She stared at the rips in the right shoulder, and wondered how he'd torn

it. Not that it really mattered. The fabric dried quickly. That's what was important, getting him dry and warm again. When she glanced back, she saw Morgan seated once again with his legs drawn up inside the folds of the thin silver blanket, his toes peaking out from beneath the hem. His hair was ruffled, no longer plastered to his head and dripping wet. He must have toweled it with his coveralls before he'd handed them to her. He looked cold, uncomfortable, and completely sexy. She sighed, pushing her wayward thoughts aside. This wasn't the time or the place. She should be worried about how they were going to get to safety, not thinking about what she wanted to do to him when she got there. Morgan and Chekron talked quietly, but tempting as it was to participate in the conversation, she couldn't sit there and pretend the weather didn't affect her. Instead, she slipped into her bedding by the fire and watched them. Since there was little else to occupy her mind, she mentally catalogued their differences. Both men were tall and strong, but she knew Morgan the stronger of the two. Bellarissians were rumored to be exceedingly strong, a rumor she'd seen demonstrated once in a surveillance tape when a Jotnar commander had the audacity to tell Morgan's friend Drake exactly what he thought of him. She shuddered, remembering the sound of bones cracking as Drake lifted the man off his feet by his throat and slammed him against the wall. Drake hadn't killed him, but not long after the incident, the commander had disappeared. Chekron stood, drawing her attention back to the present. He nodded once at Morgan, then strode toward where she lay. She looked up at him as he knelt before her. "Truce? For Morgan's sake?" she whispered, hoping he wouldn't refuse her. Chekron stared at her a long moment, then nodded. "For Morgan's sake. Tomorrow, we'll try to find a more open place to look around and get our bearings. We shouldn't be too far from the settlement." Ariana nodded, rolling onto her back. "The sooner the better." She stretched her aching body. "I've had enough of sleeping on the ground." Chekron agreed. Saying good sleep, he added a few more logs to the fire, then settled down across from her for the night. Ariana wondered about Morgan. When did he plan to sleep? She

watched him while he sat there so stoically, gazing out into the night. Every so often, a tremor passed through his body. If not for that tremor, he could have easily passed for a marble sculpture. She sighed, then noticed the noise outside had lessened and that the wind no longer ruffled his hair. The storm had passed. Without the harsh wind buffeting him, maybe he would warm up enough to stop trembling. She rubbed her itchy eyes, wishing the cave were larger so the smoke from the fire wouldn't grow so thick. Intending only to rest for a moment, she closed her eyes. The next time she opened them, it was morning. A heavenly aroma teased Ariana awake. It smelled so good that her stomach voiced a loud request to be filled. She sat up, groaning. Cave floors were not meant for sleeping. There wasn't a muscle in her body that didn't ache. "Good morning," Chekron said. She looked over to where he crouched near the fire, briskly stirring something in a pot, and returned the greeting. "Your breakfast will be ready in just a moment." "It smells wonderful." Her stomach growled an agreement, making them both laugh. She glanced around the cave, disappointed not to see Morgan. After pulling on her boots, she folded up her bedding and tucked it back into her supply pack, then joined Chekron at the fire. She peered into the pot and gasped. Eggs! But not just eggs. There were wild onions, mushrooms and fresh herbs scrambled into the mixture as well. Her mouth watered with anticipation, knowing it would taste as wonderful as it smelled. "Where did you find all this?" "Morgan found it. He's been scouting the area since dawn." He lifted the pot and scraped the contents onto plates then looked up at her. "He found something else I think you'll like." "Not unless it's a rescue shuttle." She grinned at him then fixed her gaze on the plates. Only two. "Isn't Morgan joining us?" Chekron frowned. "He said he wasn't hungry." "But you don't believe him." "No, it's not that. I just have a feeling something's... wrong." He visibly shook himself and glanced down at his plate. "We'd better eat before this gets cold." Ariana put the first bite of egg in her mouth and moaned in pleasure.

Fresh food. Goddess above, it was heavenly. When Chekron echoed her sound, she smiled. Replicated food simply did not compare to the real thing. If and when she ever gained a seat with more authority, she would definitely have to insist they revert some land back to agriculture. Right now, all their food was imported in replicated, dehydrated or preserved forms. Nothing fresh. Ariana cleared her plate of every last morsel then sat fidgeting while she waited for Chekron to finish his meal. She hoped this surprise of his included a discreet bush. The call of nature couldn't be ignored much longer. When Chekron finished his meal and meticulously began gathering the dirty dishes into a mesh sack, she decided to be direct. "How far is the nearest bush?" His puzzled gaze snapped up, then his tanned cheeks reddened. "Sorry, I'll show you a private place." Grabbing the mesh sack and one of their packs, he stood then held out his hand. Ariana stared at his outstretched hand for a moment and couldn't help marveling at his change of heart. He was really taking this truce thing seriously. Before he could take offense at her hesitation, she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, then followed him outside. Tilting her face toward the sun, she let its warmth seep into her and chase away the chill of the cave. Thank the goddess the storm had passed. She didn't think she could bear another day cooped up in that cave. She focused her attention on her surroundings as they picked their way up the trail. The first thing she noticed was how well-used the trail appeared. Why? It was too far from any populated area to be of use to anyone, and it certainly didn't look like any animal trail she'd ever seen. It was too wide. Along the trail grew an abundance of dirkwood trees and only a smattering of the gray-barked, red-leafed dryash trees. Dirkwoods made lousy firewood. The black hardwood was almost impossible to burn. The dryash, however, made perfect firewood. Glancing up, Ariana saw only a dot of red here and there amongst the green foliage of the leafy canopy. No wonder it had taken Morgan so long to gather firewood. How had he known which wood to gather? They walked several more minutes. With her wayward thoughts on Morgan, wondering where he was and what he was doing, she almost forgot her need to empty her bladder. Then, she heard the trickle of water.

"Chekron, I need to stop. Now." Not waiting for a reply, she headed straight for the trees. A few minutes later, she was again following him. The path led them directly to that trickle of water, a tiny brook. Well, more like a steady stream of water that sluiced between the rocks and crevices on its journey down the mountain. "I hope this isn't the surprise." Chekron smiled and shook his head. "This way." He pointed up. The path turned sharply into a steep climb following the direction the water traveled. Thus far, it had been a gradual climb, the kind that would wind its way around the mountain on its way to the top. "This had better be good," she grumbled and began picking her way around the rocks and bushes along the little brook. She just wasn't the outdoor type. She preferred her experiences with nature to come visually, from her window, not from a hands-on approach. Her grumbling turned into a gasp of pleasure. Above her, just coming into view, was a waterfall. Not a large one, but beautiful none the less. Sparkling drops caught the light like a shower of jewels in a rainbow of colors. As she climbed higher, her gaze followed the descent of the water to where it formed a pool in a large stone basin. The basin's overflow appeared to be the source of her little brook. A movement out the corner of her eye caught her attention. There, on the left side of the basin was Morgan, bared to the waist, splashing water onto his face and chest. He seemed oblivious to their presence. That alone told her something was wrong. His ability to know when she was watching him had always disturbed her, its absence worried her. She must have made some sound, because Morgan spun around to face them, and swayed.

Chapter 20 "Morgan!" Ariana cried. Chekron leapt, grabbing Morgan and yanking him back before he toppled into the pool. Chekron helped him to sit as Ariana rushed to his side. "Oh, goddess." She knelt in front of him. Four angry red slashes marred his right shoulder, slicing several inches down his chest. "When did this happen?"

"Night before last, when we camped out in the forest." Chekron swore the vilest oath she'd ever heard. She understood why. Morgan's eyes had a glazed, feverish look to them, and his body was so hot that his skin radiated heat. "I must not have gotten all the toxins out before I sealed the wounds." Chekron jerked his hand through his shaggy black hair. "Gods, Morgan. Why didn't you say something?" Morgan shrugged. "The poison's already in my blood. What could you do for me?" "I could give you something to get that fever down before you end up delirious." He yanked his pack from his shoulder and dug until he found what he was looking for, the portable med-kit. "Goddess above, Morgan, you really should have said something." Deciding she'd rather help than observe, Ariana took the pack from Chekron and searched for the cleansing kit. A cool, wet cloth would probably feel wonderful against his burning skin. When Chekron saw the kit in her hands, he frowned. "I did bring you here for a bath, but I don't think now is the best time." "It's for him, not me." She pulled out the cloth, then set the kit at the edge of the basin. She wasn't sure if she should laugh at his misconception or be angry that he would think her so shallow. When she to gestured toward the water with the cloth, Chekron's face flushed. He mumbled an apology then pulled out a temperature gauge. When he removed the gauge from Morgan's ear a moment later, his hand shook. "What is it?" Chekron swore and started yanking off Morgan's boots. "Chekron, what?" She grabbed his arm. "We've got to get his temperature down, now." He shoved the gauge into her hands. "If it gets any higher, we're going to have to worry about convulsions." "You're doing it again." Morgan's rusty whisper drew their gazes to his face. "You're talking about me, not to me." Ariana's face flooded with heat. "I'm sorry." She dipped the cloth she held into the basin, squeezed some of the cool water out, then lifted it to his face.

Morgan grasped her wrist, stopping her just an inch from his face. "I'd rather you didn't touch me." Her arm trembled in his grip. "Why?" "My control is barely hanging on by a thread. I don't want to lose it now." "Don't worry, Morgan. We'll get that fever down." Chekron tossed Morgan's boots aside, then dug into the med-kit again. As Morgan released her, his heated gaze told her what he said had to do with more than just the fever. Desire spread through her body like a wildfire and reached out. Morgan's eyes widened, his nostrils flared, then he tore his gaze away. "This medication will lower your fever." Chekron raised a hypo to Morgan's neck. Morgan shook his head. "I don't want to get sleepy." "You won't. There's no narcotic in this," Chekron insisted and pressed the hypo against Morgan's jugular, just above Ariana's mark. Morgan didn't even wince. Seeing that mark, that stamp of possession burned into his skin, Ariana's conscience flooded with guilt. He'd suffered so much, and she had only added to his pain. Shaking her head, she whispered a silent apology. "Let's get you into that water," Chekron said, spurring Ariana into motion. He's going to cool off whether he wants to or not. She reached for the fastener at his waist. Morgan pushed her hand away, saying he could do it. Ariana shrugged and peered into the basin while he stripped out of his coveralls. How deep was it? Would he be able to keep himself afloat? A quiet splash told her she'd soon find out. "If you'll keep an eye on him, I'll go pack up our gear." "We can't leave now," she protested. "He needs to rest. We should wait until morning." She glanced at Morgan, submerged up to his neck in the cool clear water. He looked exhausted. "I'll only get worse. Waiting would be pointless." "Stubborn man, I don't think you realize how dangerous your situation is." She stared down at him, her hands on her hips. Morgan slipped down under the surface of the water. "Morgan!" She rushed to the edge of the basin. "Chekron, help him!"

she cried, but when she looked back, she saw that he'd gone. Goddess above! Ariana yanked off her boots and dove into the pool. When she surfaced a scant moment later, she nearly touched noses with him. "Decided you wanted that bath after all, did you?" His husky whisper started a tingling low in her belly, but the amusement in his eyes had a more volatile effect. "You rat!" She splashed him. "I thought you were in trouble." The teasing light faded from his eyes. They became cold and distant. "I don't need your help." He ducked under again, this time resurfacing on the other side of the pool. Ariana sighed and swam to the lip of the basin. So maybe rat wasn't the best choice of words, considering the source of his nightmares. Still, he shouldn't have scared her like that. She peered over her shoulder just in time to see his head break the surface. He seemed to be enjoying the coolness of the water. She, on the other hand, found it a bit too chilly. Her wet clothing offered little warmth. She shivered and reached out for the cleansing kit. Since she was already wet, she'd wash her hair, then sit in the sun while it and her clothes dried. Washing her long hair turned out to be a very difficult thing to do while treading water. Every time she raised her arms to her head, she sunk. When she lowered her arms, the soap ran down her face. "Oh, drat!" Her eyes stung so badly, she couldn't open them. "Here, let me help you." Morgan's words whispered in her ear, startling her. Her arm jerked, catching him on the chin. He grunted. "I'm sorry." The words came out sounding like a sob. She berated herself for being so childish. It was only soap, for the goddess's sake! "It's all right." Morgan grasped her shoulders. His touch was much cooler than before. Good, the medication must be helping. That, and the repeated dunking. But how long would it be before he became too tired to come up for air? "Go under. Tip your head back when you come up." With him pressing down on her shoulders, Ariana had little choice. She went down, rubbing vigorously across her eyes with her fists. When she came back up, her hair streamed down her back, not in her face. She smiled. She was about to ask him how he'd known what to do when she remembered that he normally wore his hair long. And they had cut it.

"Monsters," she mumbled beneath her breath. A small shift of the wind sent a light breeze blowing over them. She shivered. "Come on," Morgan whispered, grabbing the soap. "Let's get that beautiful hair of yours washed, so you can get out and warm up." He thinks my hair is beautiful! She couldn't get the thought out of her mind, even as he grasped her hand and towed her over to his side of the pool. "There's a small ledge you can stand on here, while I wash your hair." He pulled her until her feet touched the ledge, then turned her so her back was to him. Her heart beat erratically as she anticipated his first touch on her scalp. When it came, she felt jolted clear down to her toes. She tipped her head back farther and sighed with pleasure. His strong fingers massaged her scalp, lathered her hair, slipped gently through the strands, working out the tangles. It all felt so good. She shivered again, but this time it had nothing to do with the cool water and everything to do with the naked man behind her. By the goddess, she wanted him. She wanted to slide her hands over his muscled body, to run her lips along each and every one of those scars and kiss away the memories of pain, and she wanted most of all to feel him within her. She'd never wanted anything more in her life. Behind her, Morgan's breath came out in a strangled gasp. The knowledge that her desire could affect him so strongly filled her with a feeling of power, sensual power. She had to remind herself that Chekron could return at any moment. If being caught kissing had bothered Morgan, he certainly wouldn't want Chekron finding them with their bodies entwined. Morgan cleared his throat. "Turn around," he whispered. "I'll hold you steady while you lean back and rinse the soap from your hair." "All right." Did her voice really sound that husky? His hands moved to gently clasp her waist. She turned in his grasp. By all appearances, he looked cool and controlled, until she peered into eyes turned dark with desire. Her gaze traveled down to his mouth, to the firm masterful lips she longed to feel on her own. She licked her top lip, unconsciously mimicking what she wanted from him. His grip tightened on her waist. His mouth opened to speak, but no sound emerged. He frowned then closed his eyes and took a deep breath,

tried again. "Lean back." His whisper was quieter than before. She'd rendered him speechless--what a heady feeling. Ariana bit back a wicked grin and leaned back. She gasped. He groaned. With her back arched the way it was, her pelvis pressed intimately against his erection and her chest rose above the surface of the water, molding the wet fabric of her white jacket to her breasts. She glanced at him through half-lidded eyes and saw him staring at the beaded peaks showing through the fabric. She raised her arms over her head so she could swish the soap out of her hair, making her breasts jut up farther. Morgan groaned again and clenched his eyes shut. Only a second passed before his gaze was again locked onto her breasts. She prayed that he would do more than look. She needed him to touch her, so badly that she ached. He yanked her up into his embrace. Water streamed down her face but she didn't care. And, when his lips closed over hers with a hunger that matched her own, awareness of everything except the warm, wet man in her arms faded away. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, molding his body to hers. Grinding her hips against him, she delighted in the hot vibration his hard flesh evoked. When he moaned, she slipped her tongue between his parted lips. His tongue darted out to touch hers, its silky wet texture stole her breath and sent shivers down her spine. Oh, goddess, she loved this man! Startled that the thought had come so easily, Ariana broke the kiss, but Morgan didn't seem to notice her withdrawal. His lips slid across her cheek to her neck, kissing, licking, suckling. Her eyes fluttered shut as she was drawn once more into the throws of passion. Her fingers slid into his hair, clutching him to her, not wanting to let him go--ever. "Gods, lady, what are you doing to me?" His husky words were breathed against her throat. Making you love me, she thought, unable to find her voice. Despite her wishes, her heart yearned for things that her mind knew she'd never have--a life with Morgan on his beautiful Bellariss. Morgan released her so abruptly that, without his support, she went under. She came up sputtering and gasping for breath. Swiping hair and

water out of her eyes, she found him on the other side of the pool. Why had he done that? Surely he hadn't heard her thoughts? She opened her mouth to demand a reason, only to see him slip under again. When he surfaced again, she heard Chekron shout Morgan's name. Was that why he swam away? He'd heard Chekron coming? "What is it?" Chekron dropped down onto the ground near her, his chest heaving. "The cave." He gasped for breath. "Our gear is gone." Morgan pulled himself out of the water. The action took a lot more effort than it appeared. He sprawled on the ground and grabbed his coveralls to drape across his lap while he let the sun dry the moisture from his body. "Who could have taken our things? There shouldn't be anyone out here." Ariana reached her hand up, and Chekron helped her out of the pool. "Probably the owners of the campfires I saw this morning," Morgan replied, unable to take his eyes off her. Her wet clothing clung to her like a second skin, leaving very little of her luscious body to the imagination. It was absolutely ridiculous to feel jealousy toward a piece of fabric, yet he did. He wanted to be so close to her that he couldn't tell where he stopped and she began. "What fires? Where?" She looked at him, and Morgan tore his gaze away from hers before his body betrayed his thoughts with an embarrassing rise in his lap. Chekron held the thin silver blanket up around her while she stripped out of her wet things. Morgan clenched his eyes shut, trying not to remember what it felt like to peel that clothing away himself, revealing inch by glorious inch of her soft, silky flesh. He jerked his thoughts back to her questions. "Out there." He pointed North. From their place on the mountain, they could see over the top of the forest. "The strange thing was that the fires appeared up in the canopy. I don't think I could have seen them had they been on the ground." "Do you think it's the settlement?" Ariana's movements were jerky as she wrapped the blanked around her and tucked the free end between her breasts. "Why didn't you say anything?" Morgan simply shrugged. If it wasn't the settlement, but instead a refuge for other Cantaran slaves, he'd be doing more harm by exposing them. Not that he didn't trust Ariana. He did, but her mother did hold the seat of High Counsel.

She scowled at him, but Chekron nodded. A light breeze drifted across his damp skin, raising chill bumps, and sent a shiver through his body. Chills continued to shake his body uncontrollably. Gods, he didn't know which was worse, being hot or cold. Right now, shivering so badly his teeth chattered, he'd have to say cold was worse. Damp or not, he was getting dressed. Grabbing his coveralls from his lap, he shook them out, slid his legs in and stood, pulling them up to his waist. He was so cold that he could barely think of anything other than to get warm. He felt her gaze on him, felt her desire washing over him and enveloping him like a warm blanket. He paused, gripping the edges of the gaping garment in his fisted hands. Meeting her gaze, he knew that, buried deep inside her with her soft, warm body wrapped around him, he'd never be cold again. Ariana gasped. Chekron coughed uncomfortably. Morgan dragged his gaze away, slipping his arms into the sleeves. He had to get himself together. He couldn't keep losing his head over this woman. His hands trembled too badly for him to work the fasteners up the front of his coveralls. He swore softly. "Here, let me help you." Ariana brushed his hands away. Morgan flinched. He hadn't heard her move. That was bad. This infection was really messing up his senses. He thanked her when she finished, then watched as she strode away to sit on a large rock and bask in the sunshine, her clothing drying beside her. The thin material should dry quickly. He sat, pressing his back against the sun-warmed rock behind him. But it wasn't enough to chase away the chill. He struggled to keep his shivers at bay. Chekron dug into their remaining pack and removed the temperature gauge. He nodded with satisfaction when it showed that Morgan's fever had come down, if only a little. Funny, Morgan didn't feel any better. He'd simply gone from one extreme to the other. "We've got to be close. They've got to have better meds than I have here. We'll get you fixed up," Chekron said. Morgan shivered. If I make it that far.

Chekron squeezed Morgan's shoulder gently. "You'll be all right." He really tried to offer hope, but Morgan could see that he wasn't too sure he believed his own words. The skin on the back of Morgan's neck prickled. He stiffened, glancing past Chekron. "What is it?" Chekron asked. "Get her dressed." His tone was quiet, but Chekron heard the urgency in his words and moved quickly to help her into her clothing. They were about to have company. "What's the rush?" Ariana asked, slipping her legs into her still-damp underpants. She shuddered at the cold, clammy feel of the wet material against her sensitive flesh. "Just hurry." Chekron grabbed up her camisole and pulled it over her head then jabbed her arms into the armholes as if she were a child who had yet to learn how to dress herself. When he grabbed up her pants, she'd had enough. "Chekron, stop!" "Yeah, it'd be a shame to cover up that pretty bum." Ariana gasped, clutching her pants to her breasts even as she looked for the source of the rude voice. Morgan and Chekron moved in closer to her, taking a protective stance in front and behind her. There he was, up on a ledge above them, his arms casually draped across the leg that dangled over the ledge. He was human, she could tell that much, but as for the rest of him... She'd never seen someone so dirty. His hair fell around his face in long, greasy clumps, and his skin--she couldn't tell what shade it was supposed to be. She could only guess that his tattered clothing was the remains of a pair of Jotnar coveralls like Morgan and Chekron wore. The man's leering, yellow-toothed grin made her shudder in distaste. "Finish dressing," Morgan hissed in her ear. "He's not alone." Her hands trembled so badly, she could hardly hold onto her pants long enough to draw them up her legs. How could Morgan look so calm when she was terrified out of her mind? Finally, she managed her pants, only to struggle with her jacket. One by one, the others Morgan spoke of came out of hiding, surrounding them. How long had they been there? Her face flamed as she wondered how much they'd seen. A snicker from the man above her

confirmed her fear. They had been observed. There were at least a half dozen of them, all as filthy as the man on the ledge, and they were armed. Some carried old, battered blasters and laz-rifles. Others carried knives carved from black dirkwood. She knew the dirkwood knives would be every bit as deadly as a metal knife. Morgan swore quietly. {I think it's safe to say that these aren't the Magician's men,} he whispered into their minds. "What do they want?" Under their leering stares, Ariana shuddered. The man on the ledge leapt down from his perch, landing in front of them. "Greetings! I'm Riordan, second-in-command of the Rebels for Freedom." "Riordan?" Ariana whispered in shock. She ignored his scowl and peered closer at his face. Yes, it was him. He belonged to her mother. She'd told everyone that she'd tired of him and sold him off. What was this "rebel" business? She had never heard of a Cantaran rebellion. "You are free to join us, or continue on your way," Riordan said. "Whatever your decision, the woman stays with us."

Chapter 21 The trek down the mountain and through the north woods seemed to take forever. Ariana was tired, very tired. She'd stumbled so many times that Morgan's arm, supporting her around the waist, now seemed like a permanent part of her body. Thank the goddess for Morgan--and Chekron. She had never been more frightened than when Riordan had told them that they could go on without her. She'd been afraid that Chekron would use the opportunity to be rid of her. He could have, easily, by simply telling Riordan who she was. He hadn't. He'd merely glanced at Morgan. Then Morgan had looked Riordan in the eye and said in his soft voice, "Lead the way." She glanced up at Morgan. He still looked so calm and unafraid. He seemed intent on their surroundings, taking in every detail. If not for the slight trembling of his fingers at her waist, she would never have guessed how seriously ill he was. She knew it was the illness, not fear, that made him tremble. She could sense nothing from him but wariness and curiosity. Knowing that he wasn't afraid made her feel better. She just

wished she knew why these rebels wanted her. Did they know who she was? Were they hoping to use her as a hostage in their negotiations with the council? Riordan called the group to a halt. With a sigh of relief, Ariana sank onto a fallen log to rest. Morgan and Chekron stood near her as she glanced around. She didn't see anything special about this place. Why were they stopping here? She whispered her question to Morgan. Morgan glanced down at her briefly before pointing up. The trees in this forest were centuries old. The lowest branches spread out at least a hundred meters above them. She tilted her head back, but saw nothing unusual. Wait, she did see something, movement, way up there. Riordan let loose a shrill whistle. Moments later, a wood platform began to descend. It took nearly an hour for the platform to be lowered then raised back up. When she finally saw the rebel's camp, Ariana gasped in amazement. It was a small village. The limbs of these old trees were wide enough for two to three people to walk side-by-side and provided a natural walkway. Small plank bridges joined the gaps between limbs. Some of the trunks had been hollowed out like caves, while others had wooden structures built around them. Tree houses, who would have thought? Looking up, Ariana noticed that the canopy was still thick enough to hide this little village from skycars overhead. She wondered what they did in winter when the leaves fell, taking away their camouflage. "Seen enough?" Riordan's voice jolted her gaze to him, but he wasn't talking to her, his gaze was fixed on Morgan. Why would he assume Morgan was in charge? She looked Morgan up then down and decided that he did exude an air of authority. "It's really amazing, isn't it?" Riordan's posture and voice took on an air of pride, causing Ariana to wonder how much he'd had to do with the planning and construction of this place. Morgan continued his perusal of the camp. When it appeared he was ready, and not a moment before, he turned his gaze to Riordan and nodded. Riordan scowled, obviously not appreciating being ignored. "Come this way. Praxis will want to see you." He spun on his heel, leading the way across the maze of tree branches and bridges to the back of the camp,

stopping in front of the widest tree Ariana had ever seen. His chest puffed out with self-importance as he told them gruffly to "wait here" then disappeared inside the tree house. Ariana sensed Morgan's amusement and had a hard time restraining her smile. She jabbed him with her elbow, sending him a warning look. They really shouldn't make these people angry. Morgan grinned at her briefly, then turned his curious gaze back to the large house. It appeared to cover only the front side of the tree, but it was very tall, as if it had more than one floor. It also had a wrap-around porch on the lowest level. She was impressed with the ingenuity of these people. How in the world had this rag-tag group of rebels managed all this? Someone had to have helped them, brought in machinery, or something. But who? Chekron moved closer to her, and with Morgan on her other side, Ariana felt dwarfed between the tall men. She didn't like that feeling. She moved to take a step forward, to get out from between them, but Morgan's strong hand clamped down on her shoulder, stopping her. "Stay close to us." Morgan's husky whisper sent a delightful shiver down her spine, one she didn't entirely appreciate, considering their circumstances. She opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of his orders, then saw the reason for his warning. There were men everywhere. Perched on branches above and below them, leaning in doorways, hanging out open windows, they seemed to surround their small group. Every single one of the filthy, disgusting creatures looked starved, and not for food. She moved closer to Morgan. His strong, warm hand closed over hers, reminding her that she wasn't alone in all this. "Let's get out of here." "We will," he whispered, just as the door of the tree house opened. ~ * ~ This could only be Praxis, Morgan thought, eyeing the man who strode out the door. Wearing a red military uniform of some sort, covered in medals and gold, the man perched his fisted hands on his hips and surveyed his kingdom. It was several long minutes before Praxis turned his attention on his guests. A false smile graced his face, flawless except for the small scar across his left eyebrow, as he approached with arms out-stretched. "Greetings, friends." Praxis gripped Morgan's hand in both his own, but his hungry gaze turned on Ariana.

Morgan scowled, pulling his hand away. If these men wanted sex, they should have stayed with their mistresses. He heard a gasp and glanced over Praxis' shoulder. That man was Bellarissian, eastern continent, he'd bet his life on it. And if the shocked look on the man's face was any indication, Morgan would say that he'd been recognized. "Your Highness!" The man fisted his hand, laying it across his chest, as he bowed his head and went down on his knee. "It's about time you showed up." Morgan recognized Gar's voice before he'd even turned around to see the grinning fool striding toward him. That meant two things. They were in the Guild settlement, and he didn't have the slightest notion what the hell was going on. He clasped Gar's forearm in greeting, careful to keep his grip firm and steady. "Your being here means things went well?" Gar's eyes widened briefly, likely from hearing Morgan's scratchy whisper. "Not exactly. I managed to get the last of the yard slaves out, but the new ones panicked when the first of them disappeared. I had to leave or get shot." Gar's expression plainly showed that he felt guilty about leaving them behind. Morgan squeezed his shoulder. "You did your best." Praxis forced his way between them. "You know these people?" "You can quit that ‘lord of the manner' act right now, Praxis." Gar scowled at him. "You've got the Bellarissian crown prince in front of you. The man who's leading our galaxy to freedom." A stunned murmur went through the crowd, and then one by one, each man went down on his knee until only Morgan's group and Praxis remained standing. Praxis stared at him for a long moment before he, too, went down on his knees. "We are at your service, Your Highness." Ariana nudged Morgan. When he looked down at her, she whispered, "Food." He smiled and turned back to Praxis, finding the man's hungry gaze roaming Ariana's body. Gar nudged Praxis, jerking his attention back to Morgan. "We've had a rough day, and my lady is tired and hungry." Morgan bounced his gaze off of Riordan. The man had the good grace to flush guiltily. "Say no more," Praxis said, rising to his feet. His action spurred the others to stand as well. "Connor will escort you to the guest quarters." Morgan should have told them to rise earlier, rather than letting Praxis

take the initiative, but after the farce they'd just suffered through--with all that rebel nonsense--he wasn't feeling very charitable. "We'll speak more once you've had ample time to rest." Praxis turned and walked back inside his house. Morgan stared at the closed door, knowing that Praxis wouldn't let it go with that. He wanted Ariana and resented Morgan's authority. Morgan just hoped that when Praxis made his move he'd be strong enough to withstand it. The Bellarissian stepped forward. "Please, this way, Sire." He dipped his head, turning to lead the way. Morgan looked at Gar. "I want some answers." Gar nodded. "Me too. I'll come by once you've had time to rest. You look like hell." He grinned, then threw them a little salute and walked away. I feel like hell, Morgan thought, and motioned Chekron to follow Connor. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep up this pretense of strength. His rubbery legs felt ready to collapse under him. Ariana looked up at him with a worried frown. He flashed her an encouraging smile then took her hand and followed Chekron. The guest quarters were in a hollowed-out tree, not far from Praxis' dwelling. The inside was surprisingly spacious. The elegant furniture drew Morgan's attention most. He glanced at Connor, who was showing Ariana around the little house with pride, and knew with a sudden clarity how Kendra had gotten her Bellarissian furnishings. Morgan pulled his gaze away from Ariana and looked at Chekron. "You don't seem surprised by all this." Chekron shook his head. "I heard rumors that this place was something else." "See to her while I talk to Connor." Chekron nodded, and Connor, hearing his name, approached immediately. Morgan felt Ariana watching him as he turned and led Connor outside. He ignored the urge to look back at her and closed the door between them. A four-foot wide planked walk had been built around the tree. Morgan led Connor away from the door and windows carved out of the ancient tree, and stood where he hoped they could speak without being overheard. "It was you, wasn't it? You're the one who turned Kendra Zoltan's

apartment into a copy of the palace." Connor paled, going down on his knees. "I beg forgiveness, Sire. I had to. She recognized me for Bellarissian and threatened to turn me over to the interrogators if I didn't do as she asked." "How did she know what you were?" "Sire, I swear I don't know. Somehow, she knew I was a craftsman." Connor's whole being seemed to plead for understanding. The natives of the eastern continent, like Connor and Ariana's father Shay, were much shorter than the average Bellarissian, and with their lighter coloring, usually had no trouble blending in with other humans. Morgan's height and coloring were a declaration of his being native of Bellariss' central continent. Because Bellariss' diplomatic core came from that continent, most of the Federation assumed that all Bellarissians looked like him. But not Kendra Zoltan. She'd known that Bellarissians came in all shapes, sizes and colors, had recognized Shay for what he was. She must have seen the similarities of her former slave in Connor and deduced that he came from the same place. But how did she know that their continents were divided by trade? Only Kendra could answer that question, and Morgan had no intention of asking her. Settling himself on the board-walk, he sighed and leaned back against the rough bark of the tree. He motioned for Connor to join him. Connor looked at him, opening and closing his mouth several times, while he worked up the courage to ask whatever it was on his mind. Morgan smiled. "One question, then I have some for you." "How in the name of the gods did you end up with Administrator Zoltan?" Connor's expression echoed the distaste his tone implied. Morgan clenched his fists. "She's a good woman, and I won't hear a word against her." "But--" Morgan narrowed his eyes, effectively cutting off Connor's protest. "I want to know how you came to be in this place." "My mentor, Master Arkin, sent me to Tellari for the purple marble he needed for her majesty's jewel chest." Connor's expression reflected his pride. Morgan didn't blame him. Arkin was the royal carpenter. Connor had obviously learned his lessons well. The craftsmanship he'd seen here was

every bit as good as the furniture at home. "We'd just left orbit when we were attacked by a Jotnar raiding party. They were worse than any space pirates could have been. Looting. Killing." A tremor ran through him. "Those few who were still whole, only six of us, were taken as slaves. The injured were in the ship with the dead when they destroyed it." Connor's eyes shimmered. Morgan's fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. Was that what had happened to Galen? Had he been injured and left aboard when they'd destroyed the ship? They'll pay, he swore. When he got off this rock, he'd see the Jotnar pay for every injustice suffered at their hands. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Connor's shoulder. Connor sniffed and took a deep, shaky breath. "When the Jotnar assumed we were simple traders from Tellari, we didn't tell them otherwise. They split us up and sent me here." "You were at the base?" "Briefly. They put me up for auction. A councilwoman bought me. Gods, it was horrible. She collared me." A tremor ran through him, then his eyes widened, and Morgan knew he saw the mark on his neck. Morgan looked away, rubbing the raised patch of skin. She could have done worse, he told himself. "Was Kendra the councilwoman who bought you?" he asked, turning the conversation back to where it should be. Connor shook his head. "Her name was Honoria. High-Counsel Zoltan attended a gathering she'd hosted. While attending to Honoria's needs, I attracted her attention." Seeing the furious blush on Connor's face, Morgan had no need to ask how. His imagination supplied quite enough. "She demanded use of me and, her being High Counsel, Honoria had no choice but to agree." Connor met Morgan's gaze, his embarrassment evident. "I don't know what she used on me, but I couldn't refuse her. Worse, I couldn't lie. She asked if I'd ever been in the palace. I had. She asked if I could duplicate the furniture in certain rooms. I told her that I had not created the pieces in question, but I could come close." "From what I saw, you did much better than come close." And Morgan knew damn well what she'd used on Connor, since she'd subjected him to it as well. He shuddered and shoved those unpleasant thoughts aside. "She kept me locked in a warehouse under guard. Even with the finest laser-chisels she could buy, it took me months to complete all the pieces she wanted. I found the opportunity to escape while they were

transporting the furniture. Praxis found me and brought me here." Connor ended his story with a shrug. Morgan looked Connor over, noticing that while his clothing was worn in spots, his appearance was tidy. Most of the men he'd seen were filthy and dressed in tattered remnants of clothing. Connor seemed to be treated better than the rest. "You owe Praxis much, it seems." Connor nodded. "Your loyalties, I assume, lie with him?" Connor's mouth dropped open. "Never!" He scrambled to his knees, his fist crossed his chest to rest over his heart with a thump. "My life is yours to command, Sire. Say the word and I'll follow you into Hell." "You just might." ~*~ "You really love him, don't you?" Chekron asked, drawing Ariana's attention away from Morgan. She'd been watching him through the window while he spoke with Connor. "Yes, I do." She turned to look at Chekron. He had loosened his leg braces, and sat rubbing his thighs. Goddess how they must be hurting him after all the walking they'd been doing the last few days. And it was her fault. "I'm sorry about your legs," she whispered. His gaze jerked up to stare at her. "I didn't know Grader did that to you, but I'm no less responsible. If I hadn't used this against you...." She held up her braceleted hand. "I truly thought that what I was doing was for the greater good." Unable to face him any longer, she turned back toward the window, not really seeing what lay beyond the glass. "When we've seen him safely home, I will submit to whatever revenge you wish to impose on me." His hand on her shoulder startled her. "I don't think Morgan would be too happy about that." "It doesn't matter. He'll be gone." She deserved whatever he chose. Morgan had suffered because of her, and Chekron had suffered. How many others? Her father would be ashamed of her. Morgan and Connor stood. The men shook hands and parted, Connor going left along the boardwalk, Morgan walking towards their door. Ariana scrambled away from the window and sat at the table, grabbing a piece of fruit. If he didn't look too closely at her flaming cheeks, he shouldn't guess that she'd been watching him.

He always knows when you're watching him, her rebellious conscience reminded her. The door opened then shut behind Morgan. Barely a moment later, he collapsed into the padded chair next to the door. Ariana dropped her fruit back into the bowl and rushed to his side. By the goddess, that man hid his condition too well. Outside, he'd appeared fine. Now, he looked ready to fall into a coma. "Foolish man." She pressed her hand to his brow. It was hot and damp. "You need some rest." Even as he trembled with chills, his eyelids barely open, Morgan stubbornly shook his head. "I don't think I'd be able to get back up." "Chekron," she called, but he was already there, with his med-kit in hand, waiting for her to step aside. She rose to her feet and fetched a glass of water, giving Chekron the room he needed to work. Chekron's loud curse sent her running back to them. She gasped in horror. The slashes had turned a nasty yellow-green, the skin surrounding them angry red with bright streaks that ran across his chest and over his shoulder. The whole area had swelled horribly. "Oh, Morgan." Ariana blinked rapidly against the sting of tears. "It's not so bad." Morgan looked up at her with glazed eyes and held out his hand. Ariana blinked a few times, not comprehending, then glanced down. Idiot! The water wasn't going to do him a bit of good clutched to her chest in a death grip. She pressed the glass into his hand. "It is bad." Chekron sat back on his heels and swore, rubbing his hand over his face. "The wounds are festering and, because I sealed them off, the puss can't get out." Chekron's look was so agonized, Ariana couldn't help but put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm going to have to drain them." Morgan nodded. "It's going to hurt. Do you want that painkiller now?" Chekron gripped the hypo tightly in his hand. When Morgan shook his head, Chekron dropped the hypo and picked up a sharp, deadly-looking stiletto. Ariana gasped. "Morgan, you can't--" Morgan shook his head again, cutting her off. His eyes drifted shut, his chest expanding with a deep breath. The breath slowly whistled through

his teeth. "Do it." "Morgan--" Her words stopped with a gasp when the sharp point of the stiletto pierced his flesh. The sight of the thick yellow puss oozing out of the puncture sent her running for the sanitary. Her stomach heaved and heaved, until there was nothing left. She pulled herself to her feet and stumbled over to the basin. After rinsing out her mouth and washing her face, Ariana sank weakly to the floor, leaning her head back against the warm wood wall. Poor Morgan. What fine help she was! If not for Chekron, he'd have no help at all. She didn't understand it. She'd never been squeamish. Never. So, why had the sight of a little puss sent her running from the room? Because it was Morgan. He had to be the reason for the change in her. He hadn't so much as flinched when the sharp point punctured the wound. She shuddered as the fresh image appeared in her mind, and her stomach clenched painfully. Taking a deep breath, Ariana forced herself to think about something else. "Are you all right?" Chekron stood watching her in the doorway. Ariana nodded. "How is he?" Chekron sighed, stepping into the small room. He closed the door curtain, separating them from Morgan in the other room. Sitting down on the closed lid of the sanitary, he rubbed his hand over his face then turned his head to look at her, his expression grave. "I gave him the last of the fever reducer and antibiotic. If we don't get him to a doctor soon...." He yanked his gaze away, studying his hands clasped in front of him. Ariana shuddered. No, she didn't want to think about that. He would be all right. Chekron's image swam in front of her as tears filled, then spilled from her eyes. Chekron drew her into his embrace, gently rubbing her back. "We'll go to Praxis. We'll ask him for help." "No." Morgan stood unsteadily in the doorway. "Morgan!" They reached him just as his legs collapsed. "Foolish man, you should have stayed in the chair." Ariana grabbed his arm, draping it over her shoulder. Between the two of them, they managed to drag him over to the nearest piece of furniture--the bed. They laid him down as gently as they could, ignoring his protests that he didn't want to sleep. Ariana covered him with

a warm blanket, hoping to still his tremors. "You can't trust him." Morgan gripped Chekron's arm. "He wants her. If he has to kill us to get her, he will." His arm dropped heavily to the mattress. Ariana sat on the corner of the bed, near his head, and rubbed her hand gently over his hair. "Shhh . . . get some rest." He trembled violently beneath the blankets, fighting to stay awake. She felt the change in him when he finally gave up to exhaustion and his eyes drifted shut. She sat there for what seemed like forever rubbing his hair and watching him shiver. "He needs another blanket." "He needs you." Chekron's voice sounded choked. She glanced up at him, but his eyes were on Morgan. "Share your body heat with him." Well, she was a lot warmer than a blanket. Lifting the edge of the blanket, she crawled into the bed and lay up against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Goddess above, he was hot. She didn't know how long she'd be able to keep herself pressed so close to him. His violent trembling told her to stop thinking about herself. He needed her. Ariana hugged his waist and held on. It was very slow in coming, but his temperature came down, thanks to the fever reducer, and his trembling slowed then finally stopped. She rubbed her cheek against the smooth warm fabric covering Morgan's shoulder and opened her eyes. Chekron sat at the table watching her, a pained expression on his face. When he saw that she watched him, he smiled then strode to the window, keeping his back to her. Ariana sighed. Life was full of far too many problems for one woman to deal with. Refusing to think about anything remotely resembling a problem, she snuggled into Morgan, letting her eyes close, and fell asleep.

Chapter 22 Morgan woke to the feel of a warm leg rubbing provocatively against his groin. He sighed, enjoying the feel of it until he realized they weren't alone in the room and that the lady in bed with him was fast asleep. She sighed, pressing herself against his hip. He bit back a groan. That must be one hell of a dream. She mumbled

his name, her hand creeping up his chest. When her wandering fingers grazed his injured flesh, he winced and gently grabbed her hand. After draping her arm across her waist, he carefully eased himself out from under her. Ariana grumbled a protest then rolled onto her side away from him. Morgan smiled, pleased that she'd grown so accustomed to him that she sought him out in her sleep. As he turned his stiff body and strode into the sanitary, his smile changed into a grimace. He gripped the edge of the basin, staring hard into the mirror, and concentrated on pushing the unbearable pain away. He'd learned the trick on Chula, but for some reason, it wasn't working as well as it once did. Finally, the pain eased a bit, barely enough to note, but at least he felt in control again. After using the facilities, Morgan washed his hands and face, rinsed out his cottony mouth, then left the small room. Stopping at the bed, he stared at Ariana's soft sleeping form for a long minute. Was he wrong in wanting her to come home with him? He released a heavy sigh and turned to find Chekron watching him from the chair next to the door, his expression envious. Striding to the door, Morgan stepped onto the boardwalk and leaned against the rail. Dusk rapidly approached. Several of the tree dwellings already bore soft glow-lamps to light the walkways. The only movement he could detect was far below him, on the ground. He heard the door close softly behind him then the quiet thud of boots on the boardwalk. Chekron hooked his arms over the railing and stared out at the camp. "How long did I sleep?" "About three hours." Chekron's tone was just as quiet as Morgan's. "I never did thank you," he said, and Chekron turned his head to look at him. "For helping me, and for helping her. I owe you my life. I haven't forgotten that, but I couldn't let you hurt her. I love her." "I know you do." Chekron looked away. "That's why I let her live." But it hurt him that Morgan had sided against him. It had shown in his eyes. "Where is everyone?" "Down below, just coming back from their weekly baths." "Weekly?" Morgan nodded. "Their supply shuttle is due in tonight and it appears that supplies aren't the only thing they bring in. If they don't want to spend the night alone, they wash."

Chekron grinned. As Morgan looked at him, Chekron's image faded in and out of focus. He blinked several times then rubbed his eyes. He was tired, that's all. He hadn't slept much in the last few days. He forced his eyes to focus on Chekron's face. "Something's going on here." "What?" Morgan shook his head. "I don't know. If this is the Guild settlement, then what was all that nonsense this morning about? And why are these people in such bad shape? Look at this place. By the looks of it, they should want for nothing, yet they're all dressed in rags." "All except for Praxis," Chekron growled. Morgan nodded, making his head swim. He rubbed his forehead absently. "I think it's been a very long time since Rico actually paid a visit here." Chekron nodded. "Maybe Gar's been able to learn something. So what are we going to do?" "We're going to watch our backs, and pray that help comes before I'm completely useless. I don't know how much good I'll be in a fight right now. If they decide to wait us out...." Morgan shrugged. Chekron's grave look told Morgan that he understood. "What will happen if they wait us out?" Morgan turned his head toward Ariana's voice, saw her step onto the boardwalk. He took in the view of her sleep-tousled hair and wrinkled dirt-stained uniform and thought that she couldn't have looked sexier. His mouth went dry as she walked toward him, her hips swaying gently. Her troubled eyes gazed up at him. "Tell me, Morgan. What will happen?" "The infection will kill me before Praxis can." "What did you say?" Ariana had to have heard wrong. She could tell by the look in his eyes that Morgan believed what he said, and a quick glance told her Chekron believed it as well. Oh goddess, if Morgan admitted he's ill, then he's worse off than she'd thought. "You don't have to worry about Praxis," Gar said, joining them on the boardwalk. "These are the Magician's men, not his. They know who you are and won't raise a hand against you unless the Magician orders it." Ariana looked at Chekron. "What about what you said on the ship?

About the Magician wanting him dead?" Chekron shrugged. "I lied." She smiled. "I can believe it. Something else puzzles me though. If this is the Guild settlement we were searching for, then why did they try to take me and send you two on your way?" "That's what I'd like to know." Morgan's tone was low and ominous. "It was a ruse," a voice called from behind them. Ariana gasped. Cleaned up and in new clothing, Riordan looked like a different person. "What was?" "The rebellion nonsense, the filth. We never know who we'll find out there. So, until we could be sure of you...." He shrugged. They pretended to be a rag tag bunch of runaways on a hopeless crusade. Ingenious, but it still didn't answer her original question. "Why me?" "I saw you two together in the pool. I knew he wouldn't leave without you." He turned toward Morgan. "I also saw your wound. I don't know what we can do to help." Ariana grabbed Morgan's hand. "It starts tomorrow. Surely Drake told them about this place. They'll come for you. They will!" Her last words came out in a sob. Morgan wrapped his arms around her and pressed her face against his chest. "Shhh...it doesn't matter," he whispered, knowing tomorrow might be too late. Each beat of his heart sent the poison pulsing through his veins, doing more damage to his weakening system. The tremors and chills had been shoved aside by an overwhelming lethargy. And his vision was getting worse. Each of the men facing him had become fuzzy and outlined in a white aura. He turned his gaze to Gar. It took a moment for the man's streaking image to come to a standstill. "What happened when we left? Why didn't Grader send a ship up after us?" Gar snorted. "He didn't even try. I guess he had a homing beacon somewhere on the ship. He figured he'd just wait for you to land, then he'd go pick you up. Went nuts when he lost the signal--especially when Jojev showed up wanting to know where you were." Ariana gasped, stiffening in Morgan's embrace. "Captain Jojev is here? Goddess above, Grader convinced him of my treason." Her face paled. "I'm as good as dead." "No." Morgan tilted her head back to meet his gaze. "Soon the alliance

will be no more. You'll be safe, and free." And alone, his traitorous mind added. The boardwalk bounced beneath their feet, announcing the arrival of yet another visitor. They turned to see Connor running toward them. "Praxis sent me to fetch you. He wants you to join him for dinner," Connor gasped out, his chest heaving. Morgan glanced down at Ariana. "Shall we go see what the 'lord of the manner' wishes of us?" He offered her his elbow. "Keep your guard up," Chekron warned. "I still don't trust him." "Neither do I." {Stay close,} Morgan whispered into Chekron and Gar's minds, {I can't see very well and I want her protected.} Gar paused to look at him. Chekron stumbled. Somehow, neither of them aroused Ariana's suspicion. She appeared too wrapped in her own worries to notice their odd behavior. "This way, Your Highness." Connor turned to lead the way. With Chekron in front and Gar bringing up the rear, their small group followed Connor back to Praxis's tree house. Connor ushered them inside. "The dining room is to the right." "Lead on." Morgan wondered what besides diner Praxis had in mind. Throaty feminine laughter reached their ears before they reached the dining room door. "Who is it?" Ariana asked. Morgan shook his head. "I don't know." He heard Connor announce them from the doorway, then the way was clear for them to enter. He waved Chekron in first, then he followed Ariana inside. The sight of the woman seated beside Praxis brought him to a halt. Ariana gasped. "Vita!" Morgan glanced at Gar. {What's she still doing here?} Gar shrugged. "Morgan!" Vita leapt from her chair and ran toward him. Her body hit him with such force, the blinding pain nearly knocked him off his feet. He swayed, struggling to remain standing and keep the contents of his stomach where it belonged. Chekron grabbed his arm, steadying him. "You all right?"

Morgan had to blink three times before Chekron's face came into focus. Releasing the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, he nodded. "Did I hurt you?" Vita looked up at him. "I injured my shoulder a few days ago." "I'm so sorry," she cooed. "Let me make it better." Morgan opened his mouth to refuse just as Vita pressed her lips to his. Her tongue darted into his mouth. He jerked back, putting several inches of space between them. Ah, gods, he didn't dare look at Ariana. No doubt she was ready to kill them both. "I never did get a chance to thank you for saving my life." Vita ran her hands up his chest. "I believe you just did." Ariana glared at her. "You're welcome," Morgan said, removing her hands from him. "But I hope you haven't escaped one bad situation only to enter into another." He glanced at Praxis. "Now, see here!" The man surged to his feet. "Shut up," Gar ordered. Praxis stammered and sat back down. Morgan turned to stare at him. "Do you want to tell me why you sent for us? It obviously wasn't for dinner." He cast a meaningful look at the bare table. Praxis's chest puffed up. "I tried to verify your identity but, unfortunately, the computers are down all over the planet." Morgan's heart skipped a beat. "It's started," he whispered. "What's started?" Vita asked. Her eyes widened and then she screamed. Reaching for his blaster, Morgan whirled around and found Grader in the doorway, his hazy image looking like the living dead, his blaster aimed at Ariana's head. "That would not be wise," Grader said. As Morgan slowly raised his hands above his head, he swore at himself. How in the hell had Grader made it in here without anyone hearing? Gar and Chekron had been taken by surprise as well, and stood with their hands on their heads. "How did you find us?" Ariana asked. "My friend, here, was kind enough to show us the way." Grader nodded

at Chekron. Morgan heard Ariana's shocked gasp as he jerked his gaze to Chekron. Chekron had gone pale, his face expressing his own shock. Grader laughed. "You don't think I butchered your legs just for the fun of it, do you? The transmitters fit rather nicely into the gap I left when I cut the tendons away from your knees." Pulling the blaster away from Ariana's head, he pointed it at Morgan. "Outside, now," he ordered, then something caught his attention. Morgan realized what, or rather who, just as Grader jerked the blaster away from him and fired it. "No!" Praxis cried. Vita's scream died in her throat a mere second before her body thudded on the floor. "Vita!" Praxis dropped to his knees and gathered her lifeless body in his arms. Bastard! Morgan took one step toward Grader and found himself facing a half-dozen laz-rifles. "That's one loose end tied up. Only two to go." Grader stuck his blaster in his holster and brushed his hands against his pants. "Shall we?" The muzzel of a laz-rifle nudged Morgan forward. His vision faded in and out, making it difficult to see in front of him. Ariana--Where's Ariana? There she was, just ahead him, struggling against the hold of the two guards that had her by the arms. {I'm sorry,} he whispered into her mind, while he struggled to keep his feet moving. He prayed that they couldn't tell just how weak he really was. Ariana glanced back at him over her shoulder, her eyes full of panic. Then they shoved her outside. Morgan heard her pray for strength. Then he saw why. Out on the boardwalk stood a tall brown-haired man wearing the white and black uniform of Jotnar Command. "Administrator." The man nodded at her. "I can't tell you how disappointed I am to find you here." "Captain Jojev, I can explain." Ariana yanked herself free of the guards who held her. Jojev shook his head. "You're the last conscript I ever thought would

dare desertion." "I didn't desert. I never intended to leave the planet." Ariana's declaration tore through Morgan's heart like a blaster bolt. And she knew it too. Her apologetic gaze told him so. Ah, gods, had it all been a trick? Had he imagined that she loved him as much he loved her? He hadn't thought so, but"Well then, this puts an entirely new perspective on things." Jojev stepped toward her. "Captain Ariana Zoltan, Administrator of Base Cantara, I find you guilty of treason. Sentence to be carried out immediately." He raised his blaster to Ariana's forehead. "No!" Morgan shouted. His unexpected voice startled the Jotnar just enough for him to force himself between Jojev and Ariana, and yank her behind him. "Let her go." Jojev's gaze jerked to Grader's startled face, then back to Morgan's. His stare moved to the thin scar across Morgan's throat--the scar left behind by Grader's whip. "When did you regain your ability to speak?" "Yesterday. Release her, and I'll tell you everything your people wanted to know." "Morgan, no!" Ariana cried. "Oh, no. It won't be that easy," Grader growled. "Not after all the trouble you two have caused me. Oh, no." He shook his head. "I'm going to remove your fingers knuckle by knuckle. I'm going to peel away your skin, inch by inch. And, when I've finished, you'll talk or I'll start on her." "Do you really think that wise, Commander?" a quiet voice asked from above. "The Magician!" The name whispered from the mouths of the Guild men on their knees, their fingers laced behind their heads, and the Jotnar who stood over them. The sheer size of the man sprawled on the limb above them made him an imposing figure. Dressed all in black and draped in a flowing cloak that disguised his features, he seemed larger than life, inspiring fear and respect in Jotnar and Guild alike. Ariana gasped, gripping Morgan's sides, her head tilted back to see above them. "That's--" Morgan nodded. It's Drake. And not a moment too soon. "What are you doing here?" Grader snarled.

"You look like hell, Commander. Nightmares do wear a body down, don't they." {Nightmares?} Morgan sent the whispered thought to Drake alone. On the branch above him, Drake stiffened then turned his hooded gaze toward Morgan and nodded. Grader paled. "How did you--" "It has to be difficult to relive the tortures you've inflicted, night after night." Drake's low voice sounded thunderous above the silent crowd. "It's a wonder you haven't gone completely mad." "No, it can't be." Grader's face turned deathly white as he backed away. "I've done nothing to you." "I don't normally allow my marks to suffer. In your case, I made an exception." Drake flipped back his hood, sending another round of astonished gasps through the crowd. "Did you really think I'd allow you to go unpunished after what you did to him?" As all eyes turned to Morgan, he finally understood what Drake was trying to do. The game they'd played as children. Drake would tell the story, and Morgan would supply the images. He locked his gaze on Grader and sent image after image into Grader's mind, the pit, the screech rats, the shock chair, the whip, and all the other tortures he'd suffered the last few months. Grader screamed, his hands fisting in his hair. He stumbled back. Then, all of a sudden, he turned and ran. "No!" Morgan made a grab for him and missed, falling heavily to his knees. Grader crashed through the boardwalk rail and plummeted over the edge. His last scream faded into nothing. Morgan swayed on his knees, trying to stand, but his rubbery legs wouldn't obey. His mental trick had stolen the last of his reserved strength. Ariana's fuzzy image swam before his eyes. He thought he saw her lips move, but he couldn't hear her. For some reason, the entire world had gone deathly quiet. White flashes pricked the back of his eyes, and then suddenly, everything faded to black. "Morgan!" Ariana struggled to keep him from falling flat on his face, but he was too heavy for her. "Oh, goddess, Chekron help me!" Chekron grabbed him and eased him to the floor. Ariana cushioned Morgan's head on her lap and pressed her palm to his stubbled cheek. "Blessed Sheena! He's burning up with fever again." She

remembered the last time he'd succumbed to his injuries and couldn't stop the fear that overwhelmed her. Stay with me, Morgan, please. Stay with me. "A very nice performance." Jojev glared down at her. "But it changes nothing." "Oh, but it does." Drake landed on the boardwalk in front of him. "It's over." The words had hardly left his mouth when a series of white flashes appeared all around them. When the spots finally cleared from Ariana's eyes, she saw that an army of tall, muscular men and women dressed in black uniforms had disarmed the Jotnar. Morgan's people had arrived. One of them, a brown-haired man, crouched in front of her, his expression concerned as he gently pulled Morgan from her lap. "It's not over yet, Magician," Jojev growled just as Ariana's crystal sent a shock through her hand. She looked up and saw Jojev raising a knife toward Drake's exposed back. "Drake, look out!" Drake whirled around in a spinning kick. His foot struck Jojev in the head with such force that it broke his neck. Ariana barely had time to accept Drake's nod of thanks before her crystal sent her another warning. "Get your hands off my brother!" Before Ariana had time to react, a hand sent her sprawling on her back. She leapt to her feet and whirled, assuming a defensive stance, and found herself facing a female version of Morgan. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, the full fury of Sabina's cinnamon brown gaze was directed at Ariana. But only for a moment. "Put her with the other Jotnar." She knelt beside her brother, as the man looked him over. "No." Chekron moved protectively in front of Ariana. "She isn't one of them." Ariana gasped. "Chekron, you don't know what you're saying." How could he even think about defending her after what she'd done to him? "You can't banish her to Chula with the others," Drake said, grabbing everyone's attention. "Why?" Sabina asked

"Morgan bonded with her." "Ah, gods, Morgan." She sighed, cupping her unconscious brother's cheek with her palm. "I knew you'd done something foolish." "Sabina, we don't have time for this. Morgan's in a bad way," the man kneeling beside her said. "We'll bring her with us and let him decide what to do with her when he's well enough." "Go, I'll take care of her," a new voice said. Before Ariana could see who approached, another white flash blinded her. In that instant, she knew they'd taken Morgan, and that he'd be well cared for. She heard Chekron swear and reached for him, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes. When the spots finally faded, she saw Chekron's shocked gaze staring over her shoulder. Ariana turned and gasped. The man's long dark hair was peppered with gray, and he had a few more lines at the corners of his eyes and around his mouth, but it was still the face she remembered in her dreams. "Daddy," she whispered, and felt Chekron stiffen beside her. Tears streaked down her father's face as he stared at them. "Alrik, Ariana, thank the gods you've found each other." Alrik? That was her brother's name. Ariana saw the light of understanding enter Chekron's eyes the same moment the full import of her father's words came to her. "Goddess above, it is you," she whispered, seeing in Chekron the five-year-old boy she'd loved so much. "Mother told me you were dead."

Chapter 23 Morgan watched with grim satisfaction as the Della Novan base commander was bound and led away. This first assault had gone easier than he'd hoped. It would also be his only assault if the Bellarissian Council had anything to say about it. They didn't want to risk losing their future king so soon after getting him back. The only reason they'd agreed to allow him to lead this assault was the death-bed oath he'd given Kerok. Drake walked toward him talking into his head-gear. He nodded and came to a stop before Morgan. "The other strike teams just reported in. The bases on Tholis III and Sumar have been secured." "Injuries?" Thus far, they'd been lucky. With the Jotnar communications net down, Morgan's people still had the element of

surprise working to their advantage. "Minimal. There were a few Jotnar casualties." That couldn't be avoided. "What about Thelidon?" Knowing how close Drake was to Mayori, he'd been surprised when Drake had refused the opportunity to lead the strike himself. "The base has been secured. I'm waiting for Mayori to report whether or not their leaders are in the Guild settlement. We don't know how many of them were taken off-planet for pets." Drake nearly spat that last word. "Do you want to go?" Morgan wondered just how deep his feelings went for the woman. "No." Drake sighed. "Any sign of Kerok's family?" Morgan shook his head. "Maybe they're at the settlement. I'll get the Jotnar on their way back to Chula, and we'll head out." Morgan nodded and watched Drake walk away. It was amazing how quickly Drake had gotten back into the thick of it. There had been a tense moment or two when he'd presented Hastin to the queen for punishment. Drake hadn't batted an eye when she banished his father to Chula, nor when Hastin had tried to barter for his life by betraying his son once again. After that mess had been dealt with, Drake had been accepted back into the fold, and things went on as if he'd never left. In fact, he'd gone right to work, helping Bellariss' technicians make improvements to some of their technology--like the transport system they were using now. Each Jotnar prisoner was fitted with a small invisible disk similar to the ones used to transport the slaves off the Cantaran base. As Morgan watched, Drake pointed his activator at the prisoners. Their screams of fear were cut off abruptly with a blinding white flash, then they were gone--transported through the relays into a pattern buffer just outside of Chula. A technician then opened a small window in the protective force field installed around the planet and transported them onto the surface. As soon as they re-materialized, the disk dissolved, leaving them stranded on their own world. Drake's modifications were incredibly fast. The man was a technological genius. But then Morgan had always known that. He just couldn't seem to convince Drake of his worth. When Drake returned to Morgan's side, they gathered a group of

soldiers to take with them. The others would stay to round up any Jotnar they missed and help to re-establish the cat-people's society. Morgan touched his headset and was immediately connected with Boyan, his brother-in-law. "How did it go? Are you all right?" "Fine, and we're fine." Morgan laughed. "Transport us to the next location." "Will do. Stand by." A shimmer of white fogged Morgan's vision. When it faded, he found himself in the heart of a cave. "Gods!" he whispered, struggling to fight his instant panic. He forced himself to see that it wasn't dark, that the cave was well lit and furnished like a home. The realization instantly calmed him. "Morgan, you all right?" He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he met Drake's concerned stare. "I'm fine. The cave surprised me." It shouldn't have. He knew the cat-men lived in dens like other feline species. He guessed that he'd expected a settlement like the one on Cantara. Drake swore, muttering something about Jotnar and skinning, then turned to face the curious group of feline and human faces that slowly approached. Several of the people seemed to know Drake, but they stared at Morgan in a mixture of curiosity and distrust. Morgan cleared his throat. "I'm looking for the Mehtar clan. Are any of them here in the settlement?" "Who wishes to know this?" A low, gravely growl came from the back of the large cave. The group parted for an aged cat-man, his thick mane streaked with silver. The resemblance to Kerok was astounding. "My name is--" "Morgan!" Morgan spun toward the familiar shout. No, it couldn't be. Gods, it was! Shoving through the gradually growing crowd was his brother. A dainty, female version of Kerok followed close behind him. "Gods above," Morgan whispered. When Galen finally broke free, he practically launched himself into his brother's arms. Morgan hugged him, afraid to let go, afraid that if he did it would all have been a dream.

Galen pulled back and spotted Drake. He greeted him with wide grin and an enthusiastic slap on the back. "What are you guys doing here?" "Stirring up trouble." Morgan grinned. "Gods, Galen, I thought you were dead." He squeezed his brother's arms, assuring himself that he was real. "What kind of trouble are you stirring?" The throaty feminine purr pulled Morgan's attention to a beautiful feline with short golden fur. Her luminous green eyes painfully reminded him of Ariana's. "I apologize for my lapse in manners," Morgan said, taking a step toward her and the older cat-man. Her fur bristled, stopping him in his tracks. "I'm Galen's brother, Morgan." He held out his hand to her. She hesitantly reached out and grasped his hand, glancing down at it. She hissed, gripping his hand tighter as she inspected the puncture scars on his palm, the scars Kerok had left when he died. His hand was one of the three areas he'd refused to allow the doctor to repair. The punctures he kept to remember the friend he'd lost. His old scar and Ariana's mark he kept for more personal reasons. "How came you by these?" she asked. The older cat-man leaned forward sniffing. His eyes widened. "Are you Rasia?" Morgan wondered if this could be Kerok's wife. She hissed, stepping back. "How do you know?" "Is there somewhere we can speak in private?" "Leave us!" the older cat-man ordered. The room began to clear immediately. Drake leaned in to speak low in Morgan's ear. "I'll take the men outside. We'll get them started on packing." Morgan nodded, keeping his eyes on the trio of cat-people in front of him, who stared at him as if he were some kind of deadly viper. Galen stayed as well, but Morgan had no idea how he was linked with this family. "You wanted Mehtar clan, now you have it. I am Olorun," the old cat-man said. "This is Rasia, my daughter-in-law, and this kitten is my granddaughter Kisa. My son is away." Rasia took his hand again, her green-eyed gaze catching his as she rubbed the velvety pad of her thumb over his scars. "You have something to tell us, don't you?" Her expression was sorrowful, as if she already knew.

Morgan swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and looked away. How could he tell her? "I'm sorry," he whispered. She screeched her protest, her claws piercing the flesh of his hand deep enough to draw blood. Olorun grabbed her, pulling her into his tight embrace. He stared at Morgan through eyes glossed with tears while he tried to comfort his daughter-in-law. Kisa cried into Galen's shoulder. "His last thoughts were of you," Morgan whispered then turned and strode out of the cave, leaving them to grieve in private. As he stepped outside, he squinted against the bright sunlight and took in the flurry of activity around him. Families piled their belongings onto portable transporter pads, then happily waved goodbye to their friends and disappeared in a flash of white. Family, something he'd never have. Not without children. Not without Ariana. Blast your pitiful hide! he swore at himself. You kept saying over and over that it wasn't fair to expect her to commit to you. Well, she's agreed with you, and now all you can do is feel sorry for yourself. She has the family she's always dreamed about now. You should be happy for her. He was happy for her. He just wished he were a part of that family. He rubbed the pain in his chest, absently watching more families disappear. Drake saw him and approached, his expression showing that, once again, he was all too perceptive. "What are you going to do about her?" "I'm not going to do anything." Dropping his hand, Morgan met Drake's stare. "You heard her say that she never had any intention of leaving with me. She decided, so I'll let it go." "I also heard you tell the Jotnar that you'd tell them everything they wanted to know if they released her. You would have betrayed our people for her." Morgan shook his head. "I lied." Drake's eyes widened. "You lied for her? You've never told a lie in your life. Damn, Morgan, how can you just walk away from this? What about your bond?" "It's not my decision to make anymore, so drop it, all right?" Frustrated, Morgan dragged his fingers stiffly through his hair. Drake stared at him for a long moment, then finally shrugged and glanced back at the cave. "Did you tell them?" "Not in so many words," Morgan replied, grateful that Drake had finally changed the subject.

"Where's Galen?" "In there with them. Gods! I can't believe he's alive. Thinking they'd killed him was all that kept me alive in the beginning. I wanted revenge. Now, I find out that they didn't." "No," Drake said, gripping Morgan's shoulder. "They made him a slave. Killing would have been kinder in some cases, don't you think?" Morgan couldn't argue that. He'd wished for death too many times to count during his stay with the Jotnar, wished that they'd just put an end to his misery. "It needed to be done," Drake said. "What needed to be done? And where are you sending these people?" They turned to find Olorun striding toward them. "The Jotnar have been removed from your planet. Your people are going home." Kisa gasped. "Home?" She looked questioningly at Galen. "It's started?" Galen asked. "Yes, brother mine." Morgan grinned. "With a lot of help from friends," he glanced at Drake, "we're sending the Jotnar back to that hell-hole they came from." "Excuse me." Rasia pushed between them. "Who are you?" "I'm Morgan Lysandros Fontinara." He bowed regally. "From the Royal house of Bellariss." Kisa grabbed Galen's arm. "You're a prince?" Galen blinked several times before turning to face her. Morgan could almost hear him agonizing over what to say. "I'm sorry. I couldn't tell anyone who I was. I would have made a valuable hostage for the Jotnar." Olorun turned to Morgan. "I believe that there is much you still have to tell us." Facing all these expectant stares, Morgan took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He had a feeling that they wouldn't be satisfied with anything but a complete explanation. "Let's go back inside, and I'll start my tale from the beginning." "Why are you whispering?" Galen asked, his tone a bit annoyed. Morgan sighed, thinking that this explanation might just take all afternoon. Sweeping his toward the cave he said, "Shall we?" and entered

without a second thought. When the white faded from his eyes, Morgan saw his family waiting for him at the foot of the transporter pad. This isn't right, his aching heart cried out. Someone very important was missing. It reminded him of a few nights ago, when he woke in the hospital and found them all gathered around him--even Drake--but Ariana hadn't been there. Her absence had been a blow to his already battered soul. Morgan's gaze had sought out his sister, his twin, searching for the comfort that he knew she could give. His breath caught when he found her. There, nestled in her arms was a sleeping babe. "Thank the gods," Morgan had whispered as his family rushed in. Everyone talked at once, asking questions, demanding answers from him and Drake. Morgan had felt Sabina gently probe his mind and turned to find her staring up at him with tears in her eyes. He mentally pushed her out and shook his head. "You already know more than I ever wanted you to." He turned his gaze to the baby. "Is the babe all right? Did I hurt--" Morgan stopped, unable to say more as he remembered the unbearable pain he'd caused them. "He's fine." She bent to touch his cheek. "Morgan, he's fine." Then she'd placed the babe in his arms. She'd named him after Galen. The soft beeping from Drake's wrist communicator brought Morgan back to the present. He shook the memories from his head and grinned. Wait until they heard that Galen was still alive and married. He wasn't quite sure how his mother would react to that news. "Excuse me for a moment." Drake turned and strode out the door. "So how did it go?" Morgan's father, Tremaine, grasped his shoulder in an affectionate squeeze. "It was almost too easy." Morgan grinned. The Jotnar, in their arrogance, never expected that they themselves might be invaded. Cutting off all communications and computer access hadn't hurt either, he thought. "I found something very interesting while I was there." He reached out to stroke his nephew's golden head. The babe smiled at him. "What did you find?" his mother, Queen Ramana, asked impatiently. "Galen." "Gods be praised," She cried, hugging Tremaine. "Where is he? Why isn't he with you?" Sabina watched him curiously, knowing that he was nervous. She raised a brow, her lips curving into a smile that dared him to speak. Morgan took a deep breath and slowly let it

out. "He stayed behind to help his wife's family get settled back into their home." His mother gasped. "Wife?" "Mother, there's something I think you should know--" "She's leaving," Drake announced from the doorway. "What?" Morgan's heart skipped a beat. "Ariana's leaving you, you dumb bastard. She just asked me to take her back to Cantara." "Gods!" Morgan leapt off the transporter pad and strode out of the room without another word. She couldn't do this. She couldn't just leave and hurt Shay like that, not after he'd only just found her. Morgan stomped down the corridor, heading for Ariana's chambers. And Chekron, seeing his father again had brought back all the memories he'd suppressed. He'd remembered the little sister he'd been torn away from, remembered being sold to the slavers. Being first born, he'd stood in the way of Ariana's potential for greatness. Kendra wanted that power, the power of the Jotnar, for her daughter, not the useless male spawn of a slave. In her quest for power, she'd destroyed their lives. How could Ariana hurt them like this? How could she leave them to go back to the viper who'd torn their family apart? He wouldn't let her do it. He wouldn't let her act so selfishly. What will her leaving do to you? It doesn't matter, he thought, shoving his unwanted conscience aside. His happiness wasn't the issue here. {What are you going to do?} Sabina's voice flitted through his mind, as he stopped in front of Ariana's door. {Butt out,} he told her and pounded on the door. "Open up, Ariana." "Go away, Morgan. I don't want to see you." Her voice sounded muffled through the thick wood. "This door is centuries old. It would be a shame to have to destroy it," he growled, knowing she stood just on the other side. "Stubborn man," he heard her mutter. The lock clicked, then the door swung open, admitting him into the room. She was in the midst of packing, but she obviously didn't intend to take anything from him. The clothing he'd purchased for her over the last few days, still wrapped in the paper they'd been delivered in, lay scattered about the richly upholstered furniture. "Did you lie to me?" He turned to face her. Gods, she was beautiful. The mere sight of her made him ache with longing.

"What?" His question startled her enough that she forgot to close the door. "All that business about how much you loved your father and brother, about how much you missed them, was that all a lie?" "No! How could you say such a thing?" "How can you leave them?" He glared at her. "I'm not leaving them. I'm leaving you." Ariana folded her arms beneath her breasts and turned away from him. "As much as I love them, I can't bear to be near you, knowing you don't want me now that you're home." "Not want--" Morgan grabbed her shoulders. "You didn't want me, remember?" {I never intended to leave the planet.} He sent the words to her the way he remembered them, in her own sweet heartbreaking voice. "Sound familiar?" "I didn't want you to have to choose between me and your people." Ariana shrugged him off. "I told you that they wouldn't accept me, and I was right. I know they've been hounding you to make a decision about me, and that you've been putting them off. I didn't want this for you." "Gods, Ariana. I thought you understood." Morgan dragged his hand through his hair, releasing a frustrated sigh. "I don't intend to take the crown. Not now. Not ever. I'm no longer suitable for the task." "What utter nonsense," Queen Ramana said from the open doorway. Sabina stood right beside her. "Of course you'll take the crown. It's your right." "No," Morgan croaked, his throat too tight to swallow. He shook his head and turned away from their gazes, too ashamed to face them as the painful memories of the last few months came flooding into his mind. "I can't. You don't know what happened." "I know." Sabina laid her soft palm on his shoulder. "I told them, Morgan." "You what!" He whirled around to face her. "How could you do that?" He'd dealt with what had happened to him, accepted it, but that didn't mean he'd wanted everyone to know. "It's all right. They understand and won't even consider letting you back out now, not after all you've suffered on their behalf." "No." Morgan headed for the door. "I can't do it." Not without Ariana

by my side. "Are you going to run away now?" Ariana's voice halted him just a few feet from the door. "What would you have me do, Ariana?" he whispered. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, keeping his back to her. Gods, she of all people knew how hard this was for him. He couldn't do it alone. He was a fool to ever think he could. "What happened to you didn't make you any less of a man, any less of a leader. It made you stronger. You've proved yourself over and over during the last few weeks, only you're too afraid to see it." Her soft words eased his torment, yet seemed to compound the pain in his heart, the part of him that mourned her loss already. How would he live without her? "Do what you were destined to do, Morgan. You and your people deserve no less." Pressing his forehead to the doorframe, Morgan closed his eyes and sighed. Without her, he was only half a man. His people deserved better, but it was clear that his opinion wasn't being taken into consideration. "There, that's settled," Ramana announced, her tone thick with emotion. "What about Ariana?" Morgan whispered. The council still hadn't made its decision about her. But, he had to admit, he hadn't helped them much. He'd been too afraid they'd send her away. "That's your decision." Morgan turned slowly to face Ariana, his gaze absorbing everything--the way her vibrant emerald eyes sparked with emotion, the way her lush chestnut hair cascaded down her back, the way she worried her lip with her teeth--knowing that this may be the last time he saw her. He shook his head. "It's her decision." "There's nothing to decide," Ariana whispered, and saw Morgan's expression crumple into weary acceptance. "You've already eliminated every reason I had for leaving." Morgan tensed. His eyes brightened then just as quickly dimmed. "All save one." Ariana's stomach clenched. She'd heard that the love could fade if the bond had been formed with the wrong woman. Was that it? He didn't love her anymore? She asked him.

His eyes widened. "Of course I love you!" He took two large steps, then enfolded her in his embrace. "Gods, Ariana. The thought of going on without you is tearing me apart." {But I can't give you children.} His mental barrier dropped, flooding her with his pain and anguish. Ariana hugged him, tears filling her eyes. "Oh, Morgan, you already have." He stiffened in her arms. "What did you say?" "I'm pregnant," she whispered, pulling back to look into his eyes. While Morgan's mother and sister voiced their joy at the news, Ariana watched Morgan. His expression went from stunned, to exultant, to furious. "You would have left without telling me," he accused in his quiet voice. His mother and sister suddenly went silent. "When was I supposed to tell you, Morgan? While you were attending strategy meetings? While you were inspecting the moon base? While you were visiting your shipping company on the other side of the planet? While you were off leading raids? You've been avoiding me for days." A guilty flush rose to his cheeks. "I'm sorry." He hugged her to his chest. "I was afraid to face you. Afraid you'd tell me you wanted to leave, or worse, that you were staying, but wanted no part of me." And still he worried. She felt it radiating from him in waves. "Foolish man," Ariana whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Marry me." Morgan's breath caught, for only a second. "Yes." One little word, with enough emotion behind it to bring tears to both their eyes. Ariana heard a sniff, but when she pulled her gaze away from Morgan's, she found that they were alone. She looked up at him, a question on her lips. Placing a finger on her mouth, Morgan gave her a teary-eyed smile. "They've gone to start the wedding arrangements." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Sabina gave me strict orders to keep my big mouth shut and not mess things up." Ariana smiled, thinking that she was going to like having a telepathic sister-in-law to help her keep her stubborn husband in line. {It'll be my pleasure,} a lilting feminine voice whispered into her mind, startling her so badly she flinched. Morgan laughed. "I told you Sabina wasn't shy about finding out what she wants to know."

The crystal pulsed against her hand, drawing her gaze. She watched the rainbow float across its shiny surface. She'd had such great plans for this little bit of quartz. "What am I going to do with you?" Morgan took her hand and raised it to his lips, drawing her gaze with it. "The Federation will have to be more careful about accepting new planets. I think you and your crystal could help prevent another mistake like the Jotnar." Ariana's heartbeat quickened. "Do you really think so?" Morgan nodded. Her gaze turned back to the crystal. "What about you? Do you think we can do it?" The crystal pulsed in agreement, the rainbow entity within bursting against its surface in a riot of color.

Chapter 24 "Let's invite in the witnesses and get this marriage off to a wonderful start." Queen Ramana nodded her regal blonde head toward the doors. Morgan and Ariana turned as the doors slid open. He introduced her to each member of his family as they approached to give their marriage wishes: His distinguished, black-haired father Tremaine--the queen's royal advisor, his wise-cracking brother-in-law Boyan, adorable baby Galen, and, of course, Sabina. After all the hugs and kisses, the small group moved to stand with Ramana. They'd accepted her, welcomed her into the family, and the realization left Ariana's throat tight with emotion. Morgan winked at her then turned his gaze to the young black-haired man who'd stopped in front of them. "This scamp is my brother, Galen." Ariana gasped, grabbing Morgan's arm. "You found him!" Alive and apparently very well, she thought, looking him over. "Thank the goddess." Galen grinned, clasping forearms with Morgan. "Kisa's family is still in the midst of their mourning ritual, but sends their regards. I told them you'd understand." Morgan nodded, his eyes clouding with sadness. Galen took Ariana's hands in his. "Morgan's told me all about you, Administrator." "He has?" Her welcoming smile froze.

"Yes, Lady Rescuer. I can't thank you enough for keeping him safe. We need him." Tears shimmered in Galen's eyes as he grabbed her in a fierce hug. He released her just as suddenly and strode to his family. Ariana stared after him a long moment then turned her attention back to the doors. "Nikita!" Nikita let go of Drake's arm and ran forward to hug her. "Goddess, Ariana! I was so worried about you. And now, here you are getting married to this rascal." "I'm so glad you're here." Ariana hugged her. "Goddess, Nikita, I am so sorry for--" "Me too. Let's just forget it." Nikita pressed a kiss to her cheek then moved to Morgan, while Ariana turned to welcome Drake with a smile. Nikita's delighted squeal drew her gaze back to Morgan, to find him having one of his silent conversations with her. What was that all about? {She's been invited to study Bellarissian medicine,} Morgan whispered into her mind. {That is, if you don't mind her being here.} "Oh, Morgan," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I know how much you mean to each other." He reached for her hand. "I couldn't let your friendship be destroyed because of me." "I love you," she whispered, holding his gaze for a long moment, then forced her attention to the man standing in front of her. Drake waited patiently for her to regain her composure, a soft smile gracing his mouth. "I never thought I'd ever say this, but I'm happy to see you." Drake laughed. "The feeling's mutual." He bent and kissed her cheek. "I wish you well." "And I you. Why do I get the feeling that this is goodbye?" Drake nodded. "You're very perceptive. I'm leaving after the ceremony." "You can't go," Morgan protested. "You don't need me anymore. Besides, after all the trouble you've caused, you've put me right out of business. I need to get my people together and decide on another vocation. Maybe we'll round up the strays." Drake grinned and squeezed Morgan's shoulder. Taking Nikita's arm, he led her off to the other witnesses. Ariana held Morgan's hand, trying to comfort the sorrow he felt over

Drake's leaving, and saw her father and brother approaching. The sight of her brother walking under his own power brought a smile to her lips. Thank the goddess for Bellarissian medicine. Shay, his face streaked with tears, hugged her tight. "Welcome to the family, boy." He shook hands with Morgan then whispered something into his ear, bringing a smile back to his face. "It's about time you two came to your senses." Her brother pulled her into his embrace. "Be happy." He kissed her cheek, clasped forearms with Morgan, then walked away with their father. When Morgan took her hands in his and grinned down at her, she asked, "What is it? No wait, let me guess. It's a surprise, right?" He'd been saying that to her all day. Morgan's eyes sparkled with amusement, but he didn't deny it. {You'll see.} "That's all right. I have a surprise of my own." A surprise she hadn't been able to share in the midst of the chaos their wedding preparations had caused. "Later then," Morgan whispered back, and glanced at his mother. Receiving her regal nod, the elderly councilman officiating the ceremony stepped forward and gestured for them to begin. Morgan faced Ariana, gently squeezing her fingers with his strong hands. The warm, loving look in his eyes set her heart pounding wildly in her chest, stealing her breath away. "Before the gods, before our families, before our people, I take you for my wife. My love, and all that I have, is yours." The councilman nodded in approval then turned his expectant gaze to Ariana. "Before the gods, before our families, before our people, I accept your gift of love, and take you for my husband. My love, and all that I am, is yours." Her reply came from the heart. Hearing the murmurs of approval, she knew she'd chosen the right words. Drake and Nikita came forward, each carrying a ribbon. Drake tied his purple ribbon around Morgan's wrist. Nikita took Ariana's wrist and tied it with a pink ribbon. The elderly councilman approached and grasped their be-ribboned hands. "This Council accepts our prince's choice of wife and welcomes her into our hearts and into our homes. We wish them much joy in their life

together." He tied the ribbons together, then lifted their bound hands up high. The ribbons shimmered, turning gold, then glowed brightly, proclaiming to all the deepness of their bond, their commitment, their love for each other. A deafening roar of applause broke out in the hall, then Ariana found herself swept up into Morgan's arms. "I love you," he whispered against her lips, then devoured her with a soul-searing kiss. "You don't have to go," Morgan said to Drake. Ariana backed away from the transporter, wanting to give them some privacy for their farewells. When Morgan's father, Tremaine, walked up to stand between the two men, she couldn't help but admire what a handsome trio they were. All tall, well-built, golden-skinned. All three had the same shaped jaw and brows. Morgan had his father's nose, while Drake had the same black shade of hair. His vibrant turquoise eyes wereGoddess above, what was she doing? She was comparing them as if they were all . . . were they related? Morgan and Drake bore little resemblance to each other, but they both resembled Tremaine. Could he be--? "They make quite a sight, don't they?" Ramana wore a warm look of affection as she moved to stand next to Ariana. Ariana nodded, turning gaze back to her husband and Drake. Maybe she was overreacting. The men on this continent did tend to have similar coloring and build. Maybe she was just wishing for something that wasn't there, because she knew how much they meant to each other. "Drake has always been a wonderful son, a son who very much wanted to be more than a fostered child." Ramana's tear-sparkled gaze met Ariana's. "He's not mine, but he could have been." Ramana's pain touched Ariana deeply, instantly bringing tears to her eyes. When she would have offered comfort, her father-in-law stepped away from the two younger men. Ramana reached out to him and let him lead her away, leaving Ariana with the feeling that there was more to her pain than just Drake's departure. Ariana turned and met Morgan's smiling gaze. She wiped a tear from her cheek and saw his smile fade. He reached out, wrapping his arms around her. "What's wrong?" "It's his fault." She turned to Drake. "The emotions in this room are very strong. No one wants you to leave." And it was true. She knew that if she opened herself up to them, the sorrow in this room would overwhelm her, and she'd be sobbing on the floor like a

baby. Looking very uncomfortable, Drake stretched out his hand to Morgan. "I'll say goodbye now." Morgan grasped his forearm. "You don't have to go." "Yes, I do. You know where to find me. If you need me, call and I'll come." Drake hugged him, slapping him on the back, then turned and embraced Ariana. "Come home soon, Drake." Ariana kissed him softly on the lips. "May the goddess protect you." "Thanks, I need all the help I can get." Wearing a wicked grin, Drake stepped up onto the transporter pad and disappeared in a white flash. Morgan led her away from the empty pad, toward the door. "What was that all about? With my mother?" "It was just a feeling, nothing to worry about." When he opened his mouth to say more, she placed a gentle finger across his lips, silencing him. He parted his lips, drawing her finger inside his mouth. His warm tongue teased her fingertip, igniting a fire in her belly. When he sucked in a breath, his cinnamon brown eyes darkening with passion, she knew he'd felt it too. {Later. We'll discuss it later,} he growled into her mind, then swept her off her feet and strode boldly out of the transporter room. Ariana wrapped her arms around Morgan's neck and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried her swiftly into their suite. He strode right to the bed, and suddenly let go. She squealed in protest as she bounced on the large mattress. Morgan grinned at her, his laughing gaze moving to the very large, very familiar, black box that lay beside her. "Morgan, you didn't!" "Open it." Ariana's hands shook as she lifted the box's lid. "Oh, Morgan." She turned her teary smile on him then reached an almost reverent hand to touch the cape he'd bought her. "Put it on," he said in his soft tone. She gently lifted it out of the box and held it carefully to her chest, careful not to crush any of the tiny wings. The cape drew in the room's light, and reflected it out in a rainbow of colors. "This is what you and my father were plotting." Morgan nodded, his gaze never leaving her as she rose from the bed. Ariana lifted the cape to slide it around her shoulders, but he stopped her. "Take your clothes off first." As she pulled off her gown, Ariana blushed clear to her toes. She could already imagine the softness of the tiny wings sliding down her skin. And later, when she removed the cape, her skin would literally glow from the

phosphorus residue the wings would leave behind. The silky softness of the cape, as it glided down her skin, sent a delicious tremor through her body. She looked up to meet Morgan's heated gaze and found him already naked and ready for her. She gasped, moving around him in wonder. "Your scars--they're gone." His chest, his back, his arms and legs, they were all blemish free--well, nearly blemish free. He still had the crescent-shaped scar on his back and her brand on his neck. "I had them removed." He grabbed the hand she slid up his chest, and she saw the tiny puncture scars still on his palm. "I have my memories. I don't need the physical reminders." Not all of them, anyway, she thought, kissing one of the tiny marks, then raised up on her tiptoes to press her lips to the brand. She slipped her tongue out and licked across it, sending a shiver through him. He reached beneath the cape, grabbing her waist, and pulled her roughly against him. His hips thrust against her, pressing his throbbing member against her belly, making her legs tremble in anticipation. "Why did you keep this?" She stroked her tongue across the brand again. "Removing it would have been like giving you up. I couldn't do it." Morgan's breath whispered against her lips as his hands slid up her ribs, across the sensitive peaks of her breasts, to the fastener on the cape. He slid it gently from her shoulders. She couldn't take her gaze off his hands, those marvelously talented hands, as he turned and placed the cape back in its box, adjusting the folds with reverent care. As she watched him, all she could think about were those hands trailing over her body with that kind of reverence. The desire within her welled up and overflowed, washing over him like an incoming tide. Morgan growled deep in his throat, sending a shiver down her spine, as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Barely a moment after he'd set her down, he covered her body with his own. His hands and lips worshipped her body until she practically begged him for release. When he finally abandoned his sensual torture and slid inside her, he stilled, gasping. She felt his shock. "What's wrong?" "Twins...we're having twins." He stared at her, wonder reflected in his eyes as he reached down to place a gentle hand on her belly. "I can feel them."

"You discovered my surprise." Ariana smiled up at him. She should have guessed that there'd be a link between the babies and their father. Twins were special. "I'd say our family is starting off nicely." Morgan's warm, brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I love you, Ariana." "Are you sure?" she asked gazing deeply into his eyes, into his soul. It wasn't just the bond that held him to her. She was sure of that now. "You've held my heart captive from the first moment I saw you." He lowered his head until his lips were just a breath from hers. "You are my heart, Ariana."

~ The End ~