When she'd mated with Jarek the second time, again reaching a planet-shattering completion, her energy had surged. Even with her aware of it, even with her trying desperately to contain it at the peak of pleasure, she'd been unable to do so. The surge had been even wilder this time, giving Jarek several strong jolts. He claimed most of the energy had enhanced the pleasure. She wondered what the rest of it had done.
And once again, she'd linked telepathically with him. It was an eerie sensation, having another person's voice in your head; knowing that your own thoughts would be broadcast to another, no matter how private or intimate.
She didn't like it at all. Despite Jarek's reassurances that she'd develop the skills to maintain control, she was unconvinced. She had no idea what to do at this point. She didn't see how she could avoid traveling to Aldon with him, but after she proved her powers were useless, what then? She knew she couldn't stay with him forever. There were no commitments binding them together, and his people needed him too badly. Yet, for now, she intended to enjoy every moment she had with him.
She scanned the many stalls and carts with their bright displays of goods, and the hawking vendors trying to draw customers. Her attention fixed on a nearby cart that caught her interest. Herbs. Medicinal herbs, from the looks of them.
Under Rayna's tutelage, she had studied herbs for many seasons. Even though wouldn’t attempt using her powers for healing, she'd hoped she could at least be a conventional healer, like Darya. So she had studied hard and learned all she could about natural and synthesized medicines.
Wondering if the vendor might have some herbs she'd never seen before, or might be able to impart some new knowledge, Eirene stared longingly at the cart.
She turned back to the weapon transaction. "Jarek."
"That's space piracy!" he declared to the dealer. "Thirty miterons for the rifle. That's my final offer." He looked at her. "What is it?"
She pointed toward the cart. "I'd like to go look at those medicinal herbs."
He hesitated. "I'm afraid I don't have enough gold for you to purchase anything."
Guilt swept through her. She still had many of the jewels from the daggers in her satchel. She should offer them to Jarek, to help replenish his supplies and buy the equipment on Aldon. And she would, she decided, after they reached Aldon. If his gold wasn't enough for the Shens, she'd offer the jewels. At least she could give him that.
"I don't want to buy anything," she assured him. "I just want to see what the vendor has."
"Sure. Go ahead. Just stay nearby. Turlock or his men might be around. We'll get out of here as soon as I have what we need."
Eirene nodded and walked over to the cart. Moments later, she was engrossed in studying several new herbs, while the vendor enthusiastically extolled their amazing medicinal powers. Smiling to herself, she discounted most of the woman's extravagant claims.
As she reached for another container, a buzz of voices and emotions drew her attention. She felt an unusually high level of curiosity and excitement, even for Saron. Curious, she glanced toward the square's center and saw a regiment of Anteks shoving through the crowds. She'd seen Anteks a few times, when they'd come to Travan to trade on behalf of the Controllers.
They were ugly; hulky in build, but with small heads, and snouts instead of noses, and little beady eyes. Spiked bristles covered their heads and their necks, and rows of sharp teeth created their slash of a mouth. The laser rifles they carried and brandished freely ensured a wide berth as the crowds hastily moved back.
Not certain she wanted to know their purpose, Eirene returned her attention to the herbs, then froze as a unique energy assaulted her senses. The energy was strong, unusually so for the average being, and radiated incredible fright.
Trapped. Terrified. Fully aware that a horrible fate waited.
The feelings, gyrating in an unstable pattern, were overwhelming. She battled not to give in to the sense of utter panic stirring inside her. Who—or what—was broadcasting so strongly?
Giving in to the morbid pull, she turned back toward the Anteks. They yelled and shoved a few hapless beings out of the way. Then she saw him. A young man with pale skin that contrasted sharply with the midnight hair that flowed halfway down his back. Stumbling along behind the Anteks, he kept his eyes down. His hands were shackled in front of him. More Anteks closed the ranks behind him.
He was the one generating the bombardment of emotional energy, either too frightened or too inexperienced to control it. He was an Enhancer.
Eirene knew that with intuitive certainty. The energy felt too strong and too familiar for there to be any other explanation. Her own undisciplined energies must have been broadcasting, allowing him to sense her presence. He lifted his head and looked directly at her.
Another Enhancer. He was another Enhancer.
Unable to look away, she left the cart and walked closer to the progression of Anteks and their prisoner. Drawing abreast, she moved sideways with them, staring at the young man. He watched her, turning his head to keep her in sight as she dropped behind, hampered by the crowd.
She could see his eyes now, a deep blue, much like her own. Despair and resignation, an incredible sadness, all swirled in the depths of those eyes. She tried to get closer, and he shook his head in warning.
An Antek shoved him from behind, and he stumbled forward. Falling back even farther, Eirene scrambled to keep up and see where the soldiers were taking him. Her mind reeled with shock. Where had this man come from? How many other Enhancers were out there in this vast quadrant? And, more crucial right now, where was he being taken?
She got her answer moments later, when she shoved through the crowd just in time to see the young man being led into a large, iridescent-stoned building on the east side of the square. Moving closer, Eirene read the view board, which videovised an upcoming auction of an extremely rare item. The message didn't state specifically what the item might be, but she knew.
With nausea roiling in her stomach, and a heavy heart, she knew. This was the auction of an Enhancer to the highest bidder. Of their own accord, her legs carried her up the shimmering, multihued steps to the huge Variana marble doors. She didn't know what she'd do when she got inside, only that she must see the man.
Two Anteks flanking the massive entry pointed their rifles at her. "Where's your pass, lady?" one snorted, drool hanging from his mouth.
He smelled awful. She struggled not to gag. "My pass?"
"This is a private transaction. Not open to public. Get going before I shoot."
Eirene stepped back, the full impact of the situation hitting her. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do to help that young man inside. At least ten Anteks lined the front of the building, and she'd seen more than that go in with their prize.
Sick to her soul, she turned away and slowly descended the steps. Here it was, clearly laid out before her—the horrific fate befalling any Enhancer who was discovered. And yet…
As much as the thought of being found out terrified her, the growing need to do whatever she could to help Jarek—to help the entire Shielder race—overrode her fear. All her life, she’d been taught it was her duty to help those in need. If she thought only of herself, then she dishonored Rayna and those of her race. She was ready to risk her own life for a far greater cause.
Except for one problem: she had no real control over her powers. The times she’d tried to use them, she’d caused more harm—great harm, in one instance—than good. Even her determination to help couldn’t change that fact.
At this point, all she could offer Jarek were her support on the journey to Aldon and the jewels in her daggers. It was very little in the face of the Shielders’ struggle for survival, but all she could give. Resolved, she started back to find him.
A powerful arm snaked around her chest with stunning swiftness, and she was yanked backward against a large body. Just as quickly, she was spun around and her hood jerked off. For a millisecond, all she could see was a stocky chest.
"Well, well, niece," came a chillingly familiar voice above her head. "I thought you were long gone from Saron. What a surprise.
"Shock evaporated rational thought. Slowly, she tilted her head to face her uncle.
Chapter Twelve
A sneer slashed across Vaden's cruel face. "You've led me on quite a chase, girl. You probably thought I had given up." He dug his fingers painfully into her upper arms. Wincing, she bit her lips together. She wouldn't cry out, no matter what.
"But I never give up—especially when I've been cheated," he hissed.
He jerked his head, and four men stepped out from behind him, weapons gleaming in their hands. The cold fist of fear squeezed Eirene's heart, as she recognized them as Turlock's men—the ones she had stunned. She had never wished for death, but right now, it might be preferable to the alternative. Her chest heaving, she battled to stay calm.
"You made me look like a fool, niece," her uncle growled. "And you ruined an important trade deal. Traitorous bitch. You'll pay, I promise."
He grasped her chin, turning her bruised face into the light and inspecting it. "Looks like someone already got tired of your treachery. But what I have in mind will be far more painful than this was."
He brought his face within millimeters of hers. His breath was foul, reeking of strong liquor. "Tell me, girl, are you still a virgin? Or have you lain with san Ranul and half the male population of the quadrant, like some cheap slut? Turlock's men here—" he paused and gestured to the ugly brutes behind him, "—claim you were acting like a bitch in heat, but swear they never had you."
He tightened his cruel grip and shook her. "The truth. Tell me!"
The adrenaline and utter panic surging through Eirene made it difficult for her to think clearly. She knew she had to calm herself, to focus on what she could do to get out of this. She reached for rational thought.
Don't tell him you're no longer a virgin, an inner voice warned. Her uncle might not harm her as long as he thought he could still trade her to the Leors. At least it might buy her some time.
For what? Escape would be virtually impossible. Using her powers, as unstable as they were, could put her in an even worse situation. If her uncle realized she was an Enhancer, her fate would be worse than death, as she had just witnessed. Better to die than spend a life in slavery.
Yet instinct warned her not to take that final step, to tell her uncle the truth about her virginity, and die, slowly, painfully. "Why would I want to lie with any man?" she shot back.
Vaden raised his arm to backhand her, thought better of it. "No, that will mark you further. I'll have to use an electrolyzer rod on you instead." He pivoted toward Turlock's lackeys. "Webb! Go to my ship. Have Stane contact Gunnar and tell him we found his bride, and to meet us on Saron. Stane also needs to contact Turlock and find out what's holding him up. Then get back here. I might need you."
Webb nodded and strode off.
"What are we going to do with her now?" Balen asked, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Eirene's breasts. It took all her self-control to quell her churning stomach.
"Nothing, until I find out whether or not she's still a virgin," Vaden answered.
She closed her eyes, battling despair and panic. Spirit, I need a miracle.
"I'm sure the Leor bastard will insist on his own healer checking her over. He won't trust anything I say," Vaden growled. He yanked her arm viciously and dragged her toward the marketplace. "Gunnar will be here soon enough. But I intend to find out the truth for myself. Right now."
* * *
"So is all of Dukkair desert?" Lani asked, fascinated by Gunnar's account of his home planet.
"Much of it is," he replied. "It is very wild, but very beautiful. I have not been there for many cycles."
The longing in his eyes surprised her. Except for his irritation with her, or anger over situations she instigated, Gunnar rarely showed emotion. His black-as-sin eyes were usually inscrutable, which she found quite intriguing.
Even when they debated highly controversial topics, his expression rarely gave away his true feelings. And they discussed something every cycle, usually meeting in his council chamber after the midshift meal. Lani adored their discussions; Gunnar tolerated them.
She suspected he humored her to avoid a repeat performance of what had happened when he tried to put her in the brig. Thinking about it, she smiled to herself. She normally disapproved of females crying to get their way, although she was quite adept at producing tears at a millisecond's notice. But she had decided being imprisoned in a brig constituted extenuating circumstances and had opened the floodgates.
Apparently Leors didn't produce tears, had never seen them. Gunnar had panicked, convinced something must be seriously wrong. The threat of the brig had been withdrawn, the temperature settings turned down, the ship cleaned for the second time in one cycle. And Gunnar had promised, very ungraciously, to visit with her every day. Of course, he didn't call it a visit. It was a briefing, to learn more about her culture.
Ah, it had been wonderful. Lani wished she had a holocording of Gunnar's reaction. Oh, well. It had achieved the desired effect. "If Dukkair is mainly desert, it must be quite hot," she commented.
"Oh yes, very hot." Gunnar leaned back, his solid legs splayed. "There is a great deal of natural sunlight, which is the best source of heat for us."
Her eyes were drawn to his loincloth. Until now, she hadn't been a big fan of hot climates. But there could be advantages, she decided, if the amount of clothing was reduced. "What do the women of your race wear?" she asked.
"The same as thing as the males."
"Just a loincloth?" she asked, somewhat surprised, although many cultures embraced partial or total nudity.
"Yes. Why should they dress any differently than the males?"
Because the Leors, for all their warlike fierceness, appeared to be prudes. Lani had expected the women to cover up any body parts that signified temptation.
Curious, she asked, "Then Leor men don't consider female breasts sexually alluring?"
Gunnar's attention dropped to her breasts, as it frequently did, especially since she now wore her lightest fabrics in deference to the ship's hot climate. He quickly looked away. "Unmated Leors do not allow themselves to have sexual thoughts. All focus is on training and battle."
Oh, the man had sexual thoughts, all right. Lani was beginning to have some of her own. He was an incredible specimen of malehood, and she'd been away from her job a little too long. "The women don't have any hair, either?" she asked.
"No, they do not." Gunnar stared at her hair, which she'd worn down today. He was obviously fascinated with it, and generally divided his staring time between her breasts and her hair.
She slid her hand beneath her long tresses and lifted them toward him. "Would you like to touch it?"
He looked startled at the thought. "What?"
"My hair. Would you like to touch it and see what it feels like?"
The expression on his face was fascinating, an odd blend of longing and curiosity. Hesitantly, he reached toward her. "For the sake of learning more about your culture," he said gruffly.
"Here." Lani leaned forward, deliberately brushing her hair against his arm. Spirit, his biceps were bulging, especially tensed as they were right now. Good. She wanted him to react to her. To her way of thinking, men of stone were basically useless. "Go ahead," she urged. "Touch it."
He ran his rough fingers along a length of hair, the breath hissing from his lungs. "It is so… so soft," he rumbled. "And so blue."
Most men found the color fascinating, and many wanted to know whether it was natural or not. Lani never told. Charmed by Gunnar's fascination, she giggled. "Yes, sweetness, it's blue."
He looked back up at her. "You have other…hair?"
Oh, this was fun. "You mean pubic hair?"
"Pubic hair?" He looked confused, so he must not know the term.
"That's hair around the sexual organs," she explained. She didn't bel
ieve in orbiting the moon on sensitive topics.
"Oh." His skin darkened a few shades. This fierce warrior was actually embarrassed.
"Do Leors have hair in those places?" Lani prodded.
"No," he answered quickly. "No hair…anywhere, male or female." He paused, his hand still stroking her blue tresses. She wondered if he was even aware of his action. "But you have other hair?" he persisted.
"Oh, yes," she answered breezily. "Most humanoids do."
"Ah," he said, lapsing into silence.
"Any other questions?" she asked, thoroughly enjoying herself.
"Yes," he rumbled, adorable in his utter seriousness. "Is that other hair blue, too?"
Lani could imagine how it would feel to have him stroke that other hair. She wondered just how difficult it would be to sway him from his celibacy. She leaned back, thrusting her breasts forward, again drawing his attention there. Crossing her legs, she slowly slid her tunic upward, exposing a generous amount of shapely thigh. She was well aware she had his full, undivided attention.
"Tell you what, big guy," she offered silkily. "I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours."
* * *
Eirene had run from him.
Either that, or Turlock or one of his men might have gotten her. But Jarek didn’t believe that, since one moment, she’d been at the herb cart, and the next moment, she’d been gone. He’d been keeping watch on her, and he’d have known if she was taken right under his nose. Besides, Turlock would have come after him as well.
By the Fires! He couldn't believe she’d left him. He'd been so sure of himself, so sure of her. His instincts were usually unerringly accurate. She'd saved him from Turlock's men. Surrendered sweetly in his arms.
He'd been blinded by lust, pure and simple. How could he have been so stupid?
He wouldn’t make the mistake of trusting her again. He’d have to track her down, and quickly. Although he needed to take his purchases to the ship, he was reluctant to give her more of a head start. He stopped long enough to purchase a large pack to hold the guns and supplies he’d purchased. He slung the pack over one shoulder and picked up the rifle.
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