She’d explored the space, lost in her memories, berating herself and contemplating the future, when a Juxtant male entered—and turned the bright chamber into the darkest of dark. No…
Her body flooded with energy and was enfolded in warmth. The memories faded. Vayne’s scent surrounded her and his deep voice crooned in her ear. “Neira. I have you. It’s fine. You’re safe.”
A part of her wanted to believe him so badly it was a sweet taste in her throat. But he was all tangled up in the reasons she’d fallen back into the past, and it made her struggle desperately to get away, only to wish to weep when he released her. She rolled up against the hull and flattened her back against the unforgiving heft of it. Vayne lifted both arms to show his hands-off stance and the other male with him busied himself packing away what looked like medical supplies.
“You experienced a fugue state, Neira. My medic administered a stimulant and a slow release relaxant now that you’ve come back to us.”
The medic took his leave, and Vayne perched on the far end of the bunk. The position allowed the lighting to throw his features into stark relief, and despite the marked difference in eye color and the existence of a pupil, she saw the similarities. She thought she could credit the relaxant for the fact that her burgeoning scream transformed into a low, anxious moan, but it escaped her nonetheless. Vayne turned his head and gave her a considered glance, and the effects of the lighting vanished, but she knew.
“You’re Juxtant.” Her comment escaped on a harsh, low whisper past her closing throat and only the drugs kept the terror under a modicum of control.
He went totally rigid, and she saw him press his lips together rather than allow his mouth to drop open in surprise. Then he closed his eyes for a moment, as if impossibly weary. She watched him from the depths of her helplessness, wishing to lose her mind and seek the oblivion of insanity.
Oddly, his quiet, measured response held her together. “No. I’m Shadalla. The Juxtant are cousins, evil animals, and a part of our race no self-respecting Shadalla would acknowledge or accept. Long since separate. Eons separate. We allied with the Home World because of the threat, if you recall.”
“Or you’ve found a way to mask who you are.” There was accusation and hatred in her voice and she made no attempt to hide them. Somehow she’d found some resolve, her mind ticking over the possibilities.
****
Vayne marveled at her strength. Neira had clearly experienced a flashback, perhaps a multitude of flashbacks of her unmentionable time as a Juxtant prisoner. She thought he was one of that evil spawn in disguise and was even now standing up to him. His desire and need to protect and possess her nearly overcame the immediate, his cock so hard and aching he felt lightheaded. He could give her such pleasure, replace those terrible memories…but it wasn’t yet time. Only his rage at what she had to have experienced as a captive of those monsters steadied his mind and kept him on track.
“We evolved and they didn’t. We could have destroyed your world and others, but we chose not to do so. We don’t commit atrocities and as you must know, offer honorable work to those looking. We don’t take slaves anymore.”
“You steal women.”
Fuck, it was back to that again. A sticking point for certain, but what else was he to do? “For very good reason. We cannot become extinct.”
She pushed harder on the sensitive subject between them. “So why not approach the Home World? Make the offer to Earth’s women just as you offer work to the men?”
“To do that would reveal our vulnerability, Neira. Think on that. Who created our issue in the first place? And if they aren’t aware of the success of their weapon, it wouldn’t be prudent to hand them the information! We are uneasy allies.”
Passing a slender hand over her eyes, she murmured, “Hell, I don’t know.” She dropped her hand and looked up at him. “Do you think they won’t figure it out if you keep relieving ships of the female passengers? All of a certain age?”
He waited patiently, and she worked it through. “Oh. That’s why you use pirates. The Home World will think the women were sold all over the quadrant. It’ll play a few times and then what?”
“Then I’ll figure something else out.”
She didn’t give him anything further, and her body language remained the same. He decided to share additional information, hoping she would offer more. He still suspected she was the reason for the Outrider search. “I’ll supply some history on the Juxtant, if you like.”
“I don’t like. In fact I’ll thank you to quit talking about them.”
“You are calm with the medication in your system, Neira. It has taken full effect.” That and she was borrowing his strength, whether she understood that or not. It was his honor to share with her. “We should use the clarity.”
“Why? So you can find a way to evade pursuit?”
“Do you believe your fellow humans’ attempt is honorable, little warrior? Do you really want them to catch up with us and take you back?”
That gave her pause. He saw her quick mind consider it.
“No. It won’t be honorable. They killed Alexi, you know. My superiors. The public weren’t aware of him, so they didn’t waste time rehabilitating him.” Her voice had taken on a pensive quality.
“Who is Petrov? And this Alexi?” he asked, modulating his voice, trying not to react to his chosen being rehabilitated. He could imagine the additional horrors she’d experienced, and at some point had to hear about them. He would take all her pain unto himself, and the sooner the better.
With a twisted smile, she answered. “One and the same. One of my troopers. The only other soldier Somar ordered transported, besides me, from Mars. To Ureses. I thought of him as Alexi—until Ureses. Then it was easier to call him by his last name. Distance us.”
“Somar.” Vayne could taste the other man’s foul stench as if he were in the room. Somar the Procurer. It was surely inappropriate to feel relief that this Petrov who figured so often was but one of her troopers. Now deceased. Although she clearly still felt responsible for him, part of her quality of command.
“Do you know Somar?” Suspicion laced her tone again.
“I do. Personally and by reputation. He pretends to be a great warrior, when in truth he procures things—and people—for his master. Ba—”
Her sudden lunge nearly caught him off guard, but he didn’t have to defend against the press of her fingers against his mouth. “Shh. Don’t say his name. He’ll hear you.”
His chosen’s eyes were filled with terrible fear and madness. The pupils were so wide the surrounding gold of the iris was but a thin outline, shimmering eerily against the black. Vayne wrapped her quivering body up, tucking her head under his chin to hold her against him, blessing the drug the medic had administered. He had no doubt Neira had been triggered and broken down into her past and only the medication held her together. He felt her lapse once again into unconsciousness, but this time it was controlled and healing as he poured his certitude and care past all her desperate, crumbling defenses.
For now he knew. She’d been procured for Baraith, the Monarch of the Juxtants, snatched from the field of battle and, instead of being killed, was transported with all the other spoils of that war into the clutches of the worst Juxtant in their long history. Vayne didn’t believe in coincidence, but fate was a different matter entirely. Once again the skeins had been spun to bind all the loose ends together. For surely Neira’s connection with Baraith was but another step toward apprehending that monster.
Baraith, who was no longer on Ureses but holed up somewhere else, stripped of his wealth and power. He had only a few followers, most of them scattered throughout the quadrant. Vayne’s own hunters were systematically tracking them down and disposing of them, but no one knew where Baraith was, or they weren’t telling. The source of the precise marks on the back of Neira’s body was now explained, and he wondered that the rest of her was unblemished. Not that it mattered. It had been her spirit and determ
ination that drew him, and her austere beauty, her body virtually invisible beneath the shapeless, black clothing she’d worn at the time.
Meantime, he fervently hoped once her trauma was purged, that spirit would again present itself and refused to think that it wouldn’t. But you want her for your own, for her to join with you and lose herself once again. How does that make you any different? He was different, he assured himself. He had chosen Neira because of his reaction to her, beyond physical attraction. Chosen her according to Shadalla ancient proclamations and hadn’t had her procured for him, or assigned politically with genetic manipulation. Perhaps he’d procured her himself, but if she hadn’t been his chosen she would have become his concubine, or be sequestered with the others, awaiting further opportunities on Nibiru.
Even the thought of another male choosing her, sharing a holding period with her, enraged him. Her body responded to his strong emotion with a faint shudder. Immediately, he calmed himself and applied his formidable intellect and logic to their situation. They were now into the Falls and shielded from any pursuit as effectively as if they’d thrown up a shadow field. But at some point they would have to cross open space to his planet and if the Outriders had reason to believe the Shadalla were involved in the looting of the Astris, they could be waiting. It had been a mistake for the pirate captain not to destroy that pod.
Carefully placing Neira on the bunk, he covered her again and lay beside her, relishing the position. As sovereign he never had to deny himself a woman’s body, especially during his travels unless it was of his own choosing, but this feeling of protecting her, nourishing her with his presence, was entirely satisfying. Well, perhaps not entirely. He needed to join with her, to sink deep into her welcoming, slick heat and give her his seed. She would beg for it, as he’d told her, for there was no other choice, but perhaps she might not shutter her mind against him. The thought of Neira being unable to deny her physical will yet refusing him her heart was a lance to his own. At some point in their brief time together, past the brain chemistry that proclaimed her as chosen, this woman had vanquished him, and no position, no bloodline, was defense against her.
After considering any number of variables and considerations, supplemented by additional information Leric compiled and sent to him, Vayne came up with the most likely explanation. When Neira awoke and partook of a meal, he would discuss it with her. She would receive additional medication, offered of course, but administered regardless, in her best interest. It was imperative that she be helped to address whatever Baraith had done to her. The holding period was also irrevocably counting down. No quarter was given for any kind of circumstances, which included absolutely no time extensions. As sovereign, he expected to face enormous challenges and to shoulder huge burdens, but once again he wondered about his capabilities when it came to this female.
Chapter Six
It seemed all she did was sleep and eat on this cursed ship. The Tomodr was much smaller than the Astris, of course, but surely there was more to do than be confined to the cabin, sleep and eat. Aside from that one sparring match and the meal with the others she hadn’t left these quarters. Neira preferred not to think about the reasons she’d been sleeping and avoided at all costs the thought of certain other things she might be doing with her time. Vayne was still feeding her, the intimacy of the act infiltrating her senses, chipping away at her will.
He’d also helped her cleanse, if help was the proper way to describe it. Sure, she had been weak and uncertain on her feet after her stupid breakdown, and probably because of the drugs that medic, Stenlor, had administered, but she still thought she could have looked after herself. And the sovereign conveniently ignored her order about not touching her. She couldn’t fault the almost impersonal way he’d washed her body, although the feel of his strong fingers against her scalp nearly made her moan. There was no one else to care for her, as he said, and she pretended not to hear his comment that it was his privilege.
All of her high-minded intentions had seemed to fall by the wayside, and she’d become a new poster child: Miss Pushover. Lurking behind her muddled thinking, a bogeyman with razor sharp teeth and curved claws waited to spring, but it was held at bay in Vayne’s presence, her lack of control somehow less of a concern. It made no sense, because it was the sovereign’s insertion into her life that initially chiseled away at her walls… She wasn’t tracking well at the moment. They were still in his quarters, and Vayne was watching her pretend to get more comfortably seated.
“We need to have a discussion, little warrior.” He wasn’t giving her a choice. Oh, his tone was gentle, even compassionate, but implacable. Those strong, handsome features, that level stare, made her want to tell him everything. And lately she felt like his little warrior.
“Why were you banned from the Home World?” Where had that come from? Maybe the drugs were unlocking some of those elusive memories associated with Vayne and the Shadalla.
A sparkle of amusement shone in his turquoise eyes and a corner of that sensuous mouth quirked up. “So you knew of that.”
“Just remembered.” Like she now recalled more about why the troops called him His Lordship with something like awe and a hint of reverence. It had been before her time, which made this alien considerably older than her, but the war stories tended to live on through the generations. His troops literally laid their lives down for him and he never squandered them. Never. So unlike her superiors.
Vayne reached out and ran a fingertip down her cheek. Neira didn’t flinch away. She barely managed not to press into his touch and suppressed a shiver of longing.
“It was during the treaty negotiations. I overstepped my…boundaries.”
She waited, insatiably curious, yet not wanting to show it. She could feel the heat of his body. It rolled from him in waves despite the barrier of his uniform, and she well knew how warm and protected he made her feel when he divested himself of his garments. Protected! What the hell was going on? He took her, kidnapped her and wasn’t going to let her go. She struggled to put her situation back into perspective and resist whatever impact he was having on her.
Lifting a shoulder, he smiled fully. “There was an ambassador’s daughter.”
The rush of emotion enveloping her insides and cooling her skin was unmistakable, if not terribly familiar. It was insane to feel such intense jealousy. He meant nothing to her that way, and they both had pasts. The convoluted thinking didn’t escape her, and Neira swallowed any words that came boiling up her throat, contenting herself with a raised eyebrow and set lips. Something else niggled but was quashed by her jealous response.
“It was a long time ago, Neira. I was arrogant and held the belief that all women were my right. And it served a political purpose. I was compiling information.”
Had he recognized her reaction for what it was? Neira gritted her teeth, noting he’d called her by name, trying to ignore what felt like a bridge to heal her furious rejection of him. Confusion and annoyance surfaced and she managed to address him. “I don’t see how anything has changed.”
A burst of startled laughter escaped him before he clearly shut it down and narrowed his eyes. “I find myself torn between appreciating your feistiness and the need to remind you of the issue of respect.”
“Perhaps the truth stings, Sovereign.”
Another laugh, and she badly wanted to smile back. “Like many Shadalla who fought in the wars, I availed myself of the females. Not by force, ever, and there were no offspring from those unions because we were at war. I wouldn’t leave any innocents to face that. I can’t change what happened then, but I assure you, little warrior, you are my last woman. And if that sounds arrogant, I still stand by it.”
“And I told you—”
“I know what you told me. I well remember. I can’t say that I’ve ever been rejected before, and to be rejected by one’s lifemate…”
She studied him, drawn by both his physique and good looks, and appreciating, despite herself, how he’d opened up and
shown some vulnerability. Did she actually have an effect on him? The little hint of power tasted fine, and it wasn’t one she wanted to twist to use against him. Her heart kick-started at the thought and she sucked in a deep breath to calm it. Where was her earlier resolve? She should be taking any opportunity to talk him into releasing her from this ridiculous pursuit. She needed to gain her freedom.
“You feel it, Neira. Just as I do, though it’s understandable you’ll take somewhat longer to come to terms with it. I was anticipating finding you and it came to pass.”
“You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical. How long would you have looked?”
“Until I found someone compatible. A chosen. But I am blessed that I didn’t have to look past the Astris.”
This time bitter disappointment flooded over her, washing away all those softer feelings. Someone. Not a fairy tale, then. Not one in a million, a billion, chances. She shook her head against the fanciful thought. Stupid. Even as a girl she’d scoffed at fate and true love and all. So allowing even a hint of fancy to impact her was insane and moronic. Vayne could have easily spied someone compatible amongst the rest of the women. He still could. And that fine, flowery assurance of her being the last woman would be just another broken promise in her life.
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