by Bevan Greer
“But Koneru, she wants to go,” Nesham said. “Besides, it’s just until we get to Fenby. Then she’ll be staying with Carinna and me.”
“No. No animals on board. You and Castor are bad enough,” the large Rovi grumbled. Then he saw Jace and his expression lightened. “Jace! Now what do you think about all this? Nesham wants to rip one of Mystique’s creatures out of her environment and take her away.”
Jace looked from Nesham to the small lavender striped cat perched upon his arm. The cat lifted her golden eyes to his dark ones, her thoughts clearly communicated as she blinked lazily.
“Sorry, Koneru. But she wants to go. But Nesham, you should know she’s expecting a litter in a month or two.”
Koneru groaned but Nesham’s eyes lit up. “Really? She didn’t tell me that.”
“She talks?” Koneru asked in surprise.
“Of course,” Jace answered. “Everything on Mystique has some sentience, Koneru. And the little Ren cat has fallen for Nesham there. Introduce her to the stalker cats on Fenby. I’m sure in a few years Fenby will have cats like no other.”
Koneru merely shook his head.
“Thanks, Jace. I know Carinna’s going to love her.”
“Yes, I will,” Carinna said as she gently pried the cat from Nesham’s arm. The cat sniffed at her curiously before meowing, then settling around Carinna’s shoulders.
“See? She likes me already.”
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” Jace asked her.
“Not just yet,” Carinna said with a smile. Nesham hugged her to him, her small frame looking just perfect against his muscular body. “I confess I’m very curious about Fenby. Nesham’s told me so much about it.”
“It’s a place of beauty and wonder, now with the new king,” Nesham said proudly. “And perhaps sometime soon Jace, you and Naria will come?”
“We will,” Naria answered for him, wrapping her hands around her mate’s waist. “I’ve a great curiosity about the worlds of the System.”
Jace groaned. “Naria, we have a bit of work to do here first, remember?”
She whispered something in his ear that made him flush and the others laughed. “Come Carinna, let’s say our good-byes privately,” she said and dragged her sister away, exclaiming over the cat.
“What did she say?” Mikhel asked slyly.
Jace cleared his throat and tried to empty his mind of Naria’s sensual promises for the coming eve. Damn but she already had him wrapped around her little finger.
“Nothing to concern any of you,” Jace answered and shifted his body uncomfortably.
“So how does it feel to have Lord Demise as a father by marriage?” Castor asked with a snicker.
“Ask Nesham,” Jace answered and watched as the big man groaned.
“All I can say is that I’m not returning to Dark World unless you and Naria go with us. That place gives me a very bad feeling,” Nesham said.
“Agreed,” Jace answered.
“Uh, Jace?” Castor asked in a somber voice that had everyone looking at him. “Can you explain just one thing to me?”
“Sure, Castor, what?”
“How did you do that thing with the wings? You know, when you were fighting Orsan? I swear I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The others watched Jace curiously for an answer. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I didn’t think about it. It just happened.”
Castor stared at him then grinned. “Maybe you’re more like the Dark Worlders than you thought. Think about it, with those wings you’re like a golden-demon. And now you’re mated to a half-demon. Just think what your kids are going to be like.”
Jace grimaced and the others laughed. “Very funny, Castor. There’s nothing dark about Naria or myself, thank you very much.” He turned to look at Naria standing so close to her sister and could feel the love blossoming inside of him.
“They sure don’t look like demons, do they?” Nesham grinned.
“No. And no matter what Demise says, I think it’s going to be a while before Naria and I can get free to visit. We’ve got a good bit of work to do here in the meantime.” Jace turned from Naria to face his crew.
“It’s been fun while it lasted,” Jace said, hating this farewell but knowing the time had come. “And anytime you want to return, you just hover near Yanvi and call to me.”
Castor shook his head. “This Psi business… Couldn’t you just give us the coordinates to the planet?”
Jace grinned. “Sorry, Castor. It doesn’t work that way. I have to bring you in, mentally. There’s no other way to describe it. But don’t worry. Your ladies will no doubt be languishing in misery awaiting your return.”
“I know,” Castor said immodestly and grinned.
“And Koneru, have fun on Rovi. Make sure you stop by every now and then. Don’t let Castor run wild with the ship.”
“I won’t,” Koneru said, a smile on his gray face as he gripped Jace in farewell. Jace had followed tradition and given his ship to his Second, just as Dare had given Jace, her Second, the ship once she had retired from space.
“And Nesham? Make sure to give Ren and Dare that message I left with you,” Jace said as he said good-bye to Nesham.
“I will. Don’t worry, Jace. Knowing Dare, as soon as she hears you’ve been mated and reclaimed Mystique, she and Ren will be visiting very soon.”
“I hope so,” Jace said with a smile.
Later that night as he and Naria lay in bed gazing out at the dark indigo of night through their bedroom view, Jace wondered again at how things had gotten so absolutely perfect in his life.
“I love you, Naria,” he said with a contented sigh, pleased when she kissed him softly on the neck and hugged him to her.
“And I love you, Jace. I have to say, I’m very glad you landed on Dark World.”
“Much as I hate to admit it, so am I,” Jace grumbled and she laughed. Then Naria rolled over on top of him, leaning up to expose her smooth white skin to his view.
“Now what say you and I make a few little demons of our own?” Naria asked as she moved over him sensually.
Jace groaned at her choice of words but didn’t stop her movements over him. Instead he pulled her down for a deep kiss.
“Children, Naria. We’re going to have little Psi children, with pure little hearts, like their mother’s.”
“And golden wings like their father, my own golden- demon?” Naria teased. Then she said no more as Jace’s kisses took on a heated urgency. And around them Mystique glowed and pulsed with life, content that all was well as love flowed freely around her.
-Excerpt-
From Book 1 in the SpaceStalker Saga—Fenturi Fate
The Year 4022, Planet Bylar
The cries and screams of her slaughtered people made five year old Darel N’alen cover her ears, begging through tears for her mother to take her home. Shalyl, one of the rebel Fenturi, was doing her best to ensure safety for her child by killing those who would harm her. After dispatching yet another Bylaran warrior, she glanced back at her daughter and noted a puddle of blood snaking toward Dare’s bare feet. She stared in horror as she spied the source of so much red, a scream frozen in her throat.
Just beyond the puddle lay her love, her mate, his arm outstretched to their daughter as he lay gasping for breath. “Run…Dare. Run.” Another shot burrowed into his body, the blue tag of the laser creating a new hole in his torso. His gaze met hers before the light slowly faded from his eyes. “I love you,” he whispered, and passed.
Shalyl couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Emptiness consumed her, and the pain struck her mute. Poor Dare sank to her knees in the reddish mud and touched her father’s dark hair, hair that still appeared soft and springy despite the lack of life left in his body.
A strong arm yanked the girl from the ground.
“Hurry, child, to your mother.” An elderly Fenturi shoved Dare toward Shalyl, in the direction of the dark woods. Behind them, flashing lights and curling screa
ms filled the air.
Like a sleepwalker, little Dare moved slowly. Her stuffed doll slipped from her fingers and fell next to her father, another comfort lost. She walked on unsteady feet toward Shalyl, who even now grappled with a bastard warrior until he uttered a blood-curling scream. She showed him no mercy as she commanded energy that burned his eyes until they smoked in their sockets.
As Dare continued toward her, something large and furry nudged the girl from behind. The mystic feline then lifted her by the back of her smock and moved swiftly toward Shalyl.
“Mama?” Dare asked in confusion.
Shalyl wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her daughter’s bright violet eyes looked so much like her own, but without the taint of violence buried deep inside. Taking a deep breath, Shalyl forced the fierce energy within her to dissipate. Another volley of fire and light burned through the dense forest around them, so she grabbed her child from the guidecat and raced for the security of the Forgotten Fields.
She easily outdistanced the men pursuing her, her Fenturi blood raging, urging her to release control and surrender to the primitive need to run and hunt.
“I love you, baby,” she whispered and cradled her daughter’s precious head to her breast. As the shots pierced her legs and her back, Shalyl released a small beam of starfire around her daughter to protect her from harm. The heat of the Bylaran rifles melded easily into the blue energy as Dare sobbed, unharmed, against Shalyl’s body.
Unable to keep the blood loss and pain from affecting her, Shalyl lurched to her left into a clump of trees. Though tired and wounded, she still thanked the Goddess she’d made it out of harm’s way and into relative safety at the edge of the forest.
“Please, M’chre,” she said to the silent feline that had paced her thus far. “Take Dare to the vessel.” Doing her best not to cry, Shalyl pried Dare’s dirty arms from around her neck and groaned as the pain she’d been suppressing finally enveloped her weary body.
“Mama?”
“You have to go with M’chre.” Shalyl felt her heart slow and her lungs begin to collapse. The energy within her stuttered, telling her she had little time left. “I love you, Dare, with all my heart. I’ll always watch over you.” She could no longer keep her tears back. She gave her daughter one last kiss good-bye and watched as M’chre dragged her unwilling child through the brush.
Shalyl tried but couldn’t close her ears to the wailing of her terrified child. The blood drained from her body into the thick, dark black soil of the Fentra woods while her daughter’s cries added to the nightmare around her. So much needless death and destruction. And all for what? A power-hungry king?
A single shot pierced her skull, and she saw her mate, Radilen, float before her, his hand outstretched, his dark blue eyes thick with sadness. As she reached for him, they watched together as the small glint of light that was their world blinked out of sight into the darkness of space.
“Come, love.” Radilen cupped her cheek. “Our time is past. Hers is just beginning.”
“We will watch over her.”
“We will. With love.” He nodded, and they continued on their path into eternity.
***
“Isn’t that a sight to behold, boy?” King Zedrax boomed with enthusiasm, the scene of his finest victory sweeping before him, a majestic vision of his absolute control. He frowned down at the quiet child. Garen stood as still as stone, unresponsive. They stood in a large open tent with a clear view at the battlefield down the hill from their vantage. The blood and chaos of battle always filled him with a fire that stirred his blood. Nothing had ever come close to making him feel alive.
Except for the boy’s mother, he thought, his mood darkening.
Zedrax cuffed the boy solidly on the ear, pleased to see a small flinch. “Come now,” he said in a loud voice, causing those in the command post around them to look away. None of them liked being the center of his attention, and their fear pleased him. “You’re old enough to appreciate this. War is powerful. Something to glory in, to revel in Bylaran might. It is our due as victors.” He smiled, gratified by the blare of victory horns echoing across the battlefield.
The boy continued to stare at the carnage in silence. Garen had recently passed the tenth anniversary of his birth. Though he had come of an age to join the Legions as a trainee, Zedrax feared the little bastard had not the stomach for what he now saw.
Tears of weakness streamed down his face as the Bylaran warriors slaughtered what was left of the animal rebels—men, women, and children alike. None were to be spared, their base presence offensive in the extreme.
As offensive as Garen’s apparent fondness for the hated breed. The Fenturi. Beasts, every last one of them. Zedrax knew more than most how beguiling their coarse natures could be. How they could seduce and weaken that which made a man strong.
He grabbed the boy by the shoulder and hauled him into a private corner of the tent where they would not be overheard.
“Tears are weakness. How many times must I tell you this?” He backslapped Garen soundly across the mouth, drawing blood.
But as Garen recovered, Zedrax looked into features too similar to his own to deny the boy’s paternity. Only Garen’s skin tone—a more golden brown than cream—and the exotic slant of his eyes had come from his mother. By the grace of the stars, his eyes turned a deep green shortly after his birth. Now the boy only appeared to be a Bylaran royal by-blow. An indiscretion, but one that could be overlooked in time.
Yet as Zedrax stared into his watery eyes, he saw in them the entreating gaze of Garel, his beautiful Fenturi lover.
Don’t leave me, my love. He could almost hear her crying out to him, the way she did in his dreams, tormenting his ravaged heart. A witch, too beautiful for her own good. She’d trapped him with her looks and her love, and earned nothing but tragedy in the end.
He jerked the boy until the lad showed a stirring of fear. “Aye, be afraid.” Zedrax scowled. “You’re more than that whore who spawned you. You’ve got my blood in you, boy. But no one’s going to know it because I’m not going to see you. I don’t see weakness, I burn it out. You want to keep tearing up over those savages?” He nodded his head toward the window, where Morux, his trusted man, stood guard.
Not twenty feet from the command tent stood a group of tattered Fenturi prisoners too proud to beg for release. “Being strong means you feel no pain. No tears, no show of emotion over what we must do in war.” Zedrax wiped blood off the boy’s mouth with a gentle hand.
Looking puzzled by the contradiction in manner, Garen stared at the older man warily.
Zedrax had from a distance overseen the boy’s upbringing and knew his raw potential. If only he could subdue the child’s natural instincts. The existence of the damn Fenturi made it difficult for his son to grow into the leader he could be.
“Give Morux the command to kill one of them,” Zedrax ordered. He noted a young boy Garen’s age in the group, saw the boy make eye-contact with Garen. “If you don’t give them the order, I will give it to kill them all.”
Still Garen said nothing. After a pause, Zedrax said, “Morux, kill—”
“One of them,” Garen shouted, his defiance plain even if he had finally complied. “Only one. Let the rest go.”
Zedrax met Garen’s gaze. “So be it. Morux, the young one.”
Morux aimed and shot, an easy squeeze of the trigger. The young Fenturi fell, polluting good Bylaran soil with his blood. Garen didn’t turn to watch, focused on Zedrax, his gaze surprisingly inscrutable.
“You see? That wasn’t so hard, was it? You think I enjoy this, but I do not.” He waved a hand at the guard and watched Garen shudder as the rest of the Fenturi thudded to the ground amidst screams and gunfire. “This is war. If we do not do this, the Fenturi will continue to spawn and one day overtake the planet. They will not hesitate to kill anything Bylaran. You, me…Zebram.”
Ah, there. Garen tried and failed to suppress more tears. Compassion for his younger brother, a weak
ness. Yet Zedrax couldn’t have been more pleased. The boy would be loyal, if for no other reason than he loved Zebram.
“Do you really want the royal prince to die of a Fenturi claw across his throat? I think not.” Zedrax willed the lad to understand. Normally he didn’t call attention to the relation between royal prince and bastard brother. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
“No, you don’t want that. You love Zebram, don’t you?” At Garen’s nod, Zedrax eased up on him. “As do I, Garen, as do I. This work we do here is ugly but necessary. One day you will understand these rough lessons I teach you.” The same lessons taught to him by his father, another casualty of the hated Fenturi.
Garen stared back at him, and Zedrax watched with fascination as a hot flash of hatred burned deep in those forest green eyes. Raw, wild, untamed. A strength inborn, though the child warred with the wrong side. Then he blinked, and those same green eyes dulled. Garen was once again a scared child, obediently chastised.
“May I go now, my king?” Garen asked in a low voice and bowed his head.
Zedrax nodded, a bit uneasy at his surrender. Then he shrugged off his disquiet, disturbed to have been worried about a mere child. He’d made his point today, better than he might have hoped.
The future protector of Bylar left the battle tent—calmly, as if Garen had not just witnessed the execution of his youngest cousin and last living Fenturi relative.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Blurb
Copyright
Table of Contents
-Prologue-
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