Commanded to Dream
Jennifer Leeland
Published 2011
ISBN 978-1-59578-873-3
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2011, Jennifer Leeland. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://LSbooks.com
Email:
[email protected]
Editor
Devin Govaere
Cover Artist
April Martinez
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Blurb
When Shasta Pasquel uses her special DNA to save Tylan Ryar, Andev Juno’s best friend and lover, she is drawn to both of them, but it is Andev in her dreams. The moment Andev touches Shasta, he knows she’s the woman he’s dreamed of for years. Unknowingly bound together since childhood in a world filled with political intrigue, terrorism, and family betrayal, Shasta and Andev find their destiny lies together. With Tylan beside them, they must conquer their past to seal their future, and Shasta discovers her fate: she’s been commanded to dream.
Dedication
To author Mima, who made this book 100 times better. To April Morelock, who supported me through the writing of this one. You rock, chica. To my editor, Devin Govaere, who had to wait a long time for the next generation, but hung in there for me. To Romance Divas, who has been there from the beginning and is still the best place on the internet.
Chapter One
“I want to see your face.” Shasta Pasquel begging? Well, he did that to her. How often had he brought her pleasure? So many times.
“When you really want to see me, you will,” he said simply. His voice was so deep and low, almost a feral growl. Stars, she loved his voice.
His lips pressed along her spine and traveled toward her shoulder. The trees shaded them, the grass soft, the light muted. She loved this place, and this was where she and her dream lover always made love.
How odd that she would call it that. Even as his tongue swept over her skin, his fingers gentle and teasing, she wondered why it was so different here. Men in her real life barely touched her soul. They gave her release, but no satisfaction. But the lover she dreamed was perfect, always passionate, never judgmental or selfish.
His hands warmed Shasta’s breasts, and his short gasp skimmed her neck. Torn between the desire to see his face and maintaining the erotic position they were in, she reached back and threaded her fingers through his hair. She’d only ever caught a blurred shadow, and it didn’t matter. He was a dream, a fantasy all her own, the only being in the universe that made her feel safe. She arched, rubbed her curves along his thighs, and reveled in the way his breath caught.
Heat flooded her system, and she shuddered when his hand slid down her belly to her clit. She squirmed, desperate to be closer. She needed this so much, pleasure to take away the strain of responsibility, the stress of being a daughter of Adonis Pasquel.
“Please, touch me,” she demanded.
“Where, bilana? Where do you want my fingers?” His lips pressed along her throat.
She didn’t know what a bilana was. He often called her that in the same dark, needy voice. She sobbed, a small sound of desperation that slipped from her lips. “You know where.” They’d dreamed together many times. He was her match, the key to her lock. No one in real life had been able to reach inside her the way this man did. And she didn’t even know his name. Maybe he didn’t have one. “Why do you torture me like this?” She thrust against his hand.
“Because I can. Because you’re a dream, something I created in my mind.”
She was going to remind him that he was her dream, but his fingers sought her erect nub and flicked it with such precision that she froze. It made her forget all the horrors in her waking life, these erotic dreams. Sweet release was only a few touches away and—
Alarms blared, and Shasta jerked awake. Shit. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was.
“Asberek Code Level Five. All available colonists report to Med Center. Asberek Code Level Five. All available colonists report to Med Center.”
Adrenaline shot through her veins. Another attack. Another group of wounded. Her feet hit the floor, and she headed out the door of her quarters. She lived a short distance from the new shuttle bay that was now the Med Center on Asberek. Several other colonists joined her on the wide boulevard that ran down the middle of the small city.
The Med Center was frantically busy when Shasta pushed through the doors. People scurried, fear thick in the air. She strode to the bay entrance where the incoming wounded were pouring in. Right at the rear of the building was a huge shuttle bay where transports were landing in large numbers to drop off wounded. Shasta had been working there now for a month. It was brutal, heart-wrenching work.
“Look out!” someone shouted just before a shuttle careened into the bay. The metal hull scraped the solid walls of the crowded bay entrance. One of the doors popped open, and a Dormrelian warrior staggered out, his face melting before Shasta’s horrified gaze. She rushed across the bay and catapulted over several dead bodies that littered the ground.
She reached the warrior just as his left leg disintegrated out from under him. When she caught his arm, his four eyes focused on her and his scales slid off his skull. Vomit rose in her throat. He tried to talk but only a choked sound escaped.
It didn’t matter that the Dormrela scared the shit out of her. It didn’t matter that they were four-armed, four-eyed aliens that had tried to kill her father, the famous Donny Pasquel. They were dying for Asberek again and again.
The warrior’s body completely fell apart and liquefied before she had a chance to do anything. She stared at what was left. Armor stained by greenish red blood. She wanted to scream. Instead, she rose to her feet and walked to a disinfectant and cleaned her hands.
When would it end? Earth Central was determined to crush Asberek. The war had only just started and thousands had died, mostly Dormrelians. The last few days, Shasta had given her blood too many times and her sister had gotten furious with her. But their blood was the only thing that could counteract the biological warfare Earth Central used to destroy the Dormrela.
She glanced across the Med Center. Kinley should be here somewhere, though she cared for the human patients. Considering that she and Shasta had been kidnapped by the Dormrela when they were children, neither of them should have had to care for the bastards. But Shasta had little memory of the momentous event, whereas Kinley apparently remembered every detail of their seventy-two hour ordeal and hated them with a passion. The only aliens she hated worse were the Ang.
One of the Asberekian soldiers gave her a curious glance when he limped by. Well, Shasta was a curiosity. Her DNA was special, a miracle agent that could heal. Of course, there had to be something left to heal.
A shuttle landed, and a Dormrelian warrior ducked when he jumped off the descending door. His gaze was frantic, determined. When his stare focused on her, she couldn’t breathe. He sprinted toward her and grabbed her arm. “You have to save him. You.”
He wasn’t wearing a Mechanical Interpreter, but spoke her language perfectly. She tried to free her arm. “Let me go.” God, she hated their arrogance, their warrior mentality. She also hated that
her height and strength made no impression on this asshole at all. There was an edge of panic to her resistance she tried to squash.
“Now. Save him,” he ground out.
He dragged her into the shuttle, and she tried to shut out the vision. Puddles of green gelatinous material coated the floor. How many had died? Ten? Twenty? Her captor led her to a warrior who was still somewhat intact. She cupped her hand behind her neck and closed her eyes for a moment, the pain in her head beginning again. At least this warrior was in better shape than the last one she’d tried to save.
She glanced around the shuttle. It was a Dormrelian transport so the med kit should be—there it was. She grabbed the kit and jerked a needle out. Without a thought, she jammed the needle deep inside her vein. Two seconds later, she took the now filled tube and placed it in another needle. Practice made it easier, but nerves made her hands tremble. Add to it that she had given too many injections and she had to focus to keep her vision clear. The throb in her head increased, and she noted her hand shook. Damn it, she had to be steady.
The Dormrela had a vessel in their neck that transported blood quickly so she inserted the needle into the warrior’s throat. Her DNA, wrapped in unique cells, was some kind of bonding agent. It contained the cellular structure from three different races, all descended from one mysterious race from millions of years ago. Nobody knew how the hell it worked. They just knew it did. Would it save this warrior? She didn’t know.
The man who’d dragged her into the shuttle spoke in Dormrela behind her. She didn’t know what he was saying, but it sounded encouraging. At least it wasn’t angry and frantic as his orders to her had been.
She watched the Dormrelian, hoping he’d live. How strange was that? Only a few weeks ago, the Dormrela had been the enemy, an alien force that interfered in Asberek’s existence. But after she’d been requested, ordered really, to care for the wounded Dormrelian warriors who fought side by side with the colonists, she’d come to respect their courage.
Damn. She fingered her throat, realizing she’d forgotten her Mechanical Interpreter again. When was she going to learn? The Dormrela were an isolated bunch, and most of them didn’t speak Standard. She glanced at him. “Can you understand me?”
He glared at her. “Of course. Haven’t I spoken to you in your language already?”
Shasta sighed. Stars, these assholes were sensitive. “I need you to carry him to a bed. Can you do that?”
He hesitated. “Will it hurt him?”
“He’s not feeling anything at the moment. If he lives, he won’t give a shit that you carried him.” He picked up the huge body with his four arms. She rose and strode toward the exit, trying to ignore the smell of death that filled the shuttle.
The bay echoed with noise and confusion, but Shasta led the Dormrelian warrior and his burden through the maze of corridors to a diagnostic room.
Though unconscious, the soldier would likely be fine now that he’d been injected with her DNA. She was a bit woozy, but it was all part of her job. Depressed, she realized she wasn’t much use for anything else. Her DNA and being Adonis Pasquel’s daughter were the only worth she had to the colony.
Before Earth Central tried to whip Asberek in line and reclaim the colony as their own, she’d been a party girl, useless, a fucking boil on the ass of society. Her sister, Sierra, had stepped up to cement the treaty that now saved the colony from destruction, not Shasta. In fact, Shasta’s words when her father had asked that one of them save the colony by mating with a Dormrelian ambassador had been…regrettable.
“In here,” she said to the tall warrior.
The Dormrelian laid his friend on the small bed and stepped back. Shasta grabbed a med kit and checked the prone alien’s vitals. Weird how different they were. Higher levels of everything and thicker linings had thrown the human med workers at first, but now it was old hat. She checked his upper eyes which were better indicators of blood flow and used a laser light to peer at the vessels behind the sclera. “He’s fine,” she said, and clicked the scanner and the laser light off. “He’ll wake up in an hour or so.”
She was pretty dizzy. She’d extracted her blood too fast and probably given the alien more than he needed. Plus, she hadn’t been a hundred percent when she arrived so she wasn’t surprised to feel nauseous.
“You’re one of the Pasquel women,” the warrior said.
It almost sounded like an insult. She tipped her chin up and met his gaze. “Yes. That’s why your friend is still alive.” Take that, bastard. She glared at him.
His nostrils flared. “Which one?”
“What difference does it make?” she said wearily. “The results are the same.” She started to leave the room and noticed that the man had a huge gash in his belly. The material of his uniform had been ripped away, and the scales were sliced open. “You’re wounded. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Don’t touch—” he started, but she’d already put her hand on his stomach, determined to discover how deep the wound was.
The room spun.
The gelatinous figure loomed over him. “Leave me alone,” he said. He was a little child, too small to fight them. “Go away.”
“Give us your arm. You won’t be harmed.”
“No!” He shouted and kicked. The figure had tentacles, long arms that gripped him and squeezed him tightly. “Mommy!” he shouted, but the still form of his mother lay motionless, her four eyes open wide and unseeing. “You killed my mommy. Let me go!”
The door burst open, and a small Dormrelian child pointed. “There! Stop them, Daddy!” A huge Dormrelian male aimed a weapon at the shivering form that gripped him.
“Let the boy go, you fucking pile of shit!” the male Dormrelian yelled.
The figure released him, and he collapsed beside his dead, bleeding mother. He shook her. He knew it wasn’t any use, but he couldn’t believe she was dead. “Mommy.”
His friend was there, trying to pull him away. “She’s gone, Andev. Come away.”
The adult Dormrelian was on the com. “Another Ang attack. They killed the females and tried to take the children.”
“Get the fuck out of my head,” the Dormrelian warrior snapped.
Shasta snatched her hand away and reeled back. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to—”
He glared at her. “You’re an Ang.”
“No! I’m not,” she protested, her hands raised to protect herself from him. The violence in him was potent and strong. She flinched when he lifted a hand. “I don’t know what happened.”
She hadn’t realized she’d fallen to the floor until another med tech rushed to her. “Shasta!” It was her sister, Kinley. “Are you okay? Stars, you’re white. Did you give another DNA injection? Damn it. I told you to use the synthesizer.”
Her sister lifted her by the arm. The Dormrelian warrior had retreated to the corner, his dark eyes narrowed. Shasta shook her sister off. “I’m fine, Kinley.”
But she wasn’t. What the fuck had happened? She’d touched that man and had seen his past from when he was a child. She knew it was him, and she knew the friend who had rescued him, who pulled him away from his dead mother was now lying on the bed. She met his stare.
The room closed in, and she wanted out. It was too much, too overwhelming. She whirled around and practically ran from the room. Her sister called after her, but she didn’t turn around. She needed to get away from him and ignore the feeling that something irrevocable had just happened.
*
It couldn’t be her. Andev watched her leave the room and gritted his teeth. Shasta Pasquel, party girl, little DNA miracle, was the woman he’d dreamed about, the woman who haunted him past and present.
The other woman glared at him, but he didn’t say a word. If Shasta Pasquel could get into his head like that then so could her sister. The last thing he needed was these two women in his brain. Secrets were hard enough to keep.
“Your entire ship was gassed. You and your friend are the only ones who liv
ed,” the woman stated.
He didn’t move a muscle. “I know that,” he said. Hell, he’d watched them all die, helpless to stop it. And when Tylan was dying, all he could think was to find someone to save his friend.
Shasta Pasquel had saved him. Damn her. Andev had known the minute she touched his mind who she was and what she was. She was the woman he’d dreamed about, the woman he’d made love to but never seen before today. She was the woman he’d known was like him. Human.
His cysuit gave him the appearance of a Dormrelian warrior, but had been damaged, opened at below his ribs. When she had touched him, her fingers brushed his real skin, and she’d rampaged through his thoughts like a geffer, like an Ang. He clenched his fists.
The other woman, what was her name? Kinley. Kinley Pasquel. She stepped closer to him. “How is that possible?” Those sharp blue eyes narrowed on his face.
“I was lucky. They were not.” And they hadn’t been wearing what he was wearing. If Andev hadn’t covered Tylan with his body, his friend would be a pile of liquid fluid on the floor of that fucking shuttle.
“What did you do to my sister?” The woman was persistent. He curled his lip in a sneer. These women had it so soft, their DNA protecting them from everything and their father standing behind them. What had they suffered? Nothing. From what Andev had heard, only the youngest daughter had been willing to be a Dormrelian’s mate. Yet, these humans were willing to let Dormrelian lives be spent for their pathetic colony.
“I did nothing to your sister. She did it to herself.” He stood beside his friend’s bedside. Tylan’s color seemed better, and the warrior’s scales were intact again. A long sigh of relief escaped Andev’s lips.
“I don’t believe you,” Kinley Pasquel snapped.
Andev stared at the woman. “We’re dying by the thousands, Miss Pasquel. I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not.”
She flinched, a flash of pain crossing her face. “I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve never seen Shasta rattled like that.” The woman’s gaze held his. “Our colony is in your debt.”
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