"Tell me what to do for you."
"I will let you do nothing!" he rasped, the words more snarl than speech.
Bridget began to unbutton the cuff of her blouse and roll up the sleeve.
A low growl of denial came from the Reaper as he realized what she intended to do. He felt as though he were being eaten alive— as his victims always were— yet the relief that was only three feet away, he refused to take. He knew he would rather die than feed on Bridget's blood. It took the very last bit of the human ability to speak left in him to form the single word:
"No!"
"I am not going to argue with you." She crawled to him and put her wrist against his lips. "You don't have any choice. I'm not giving you one!" He tried to move his head away. "Reaper! You have to!"
Cree was horror-stricken to find he had no control over the beast within him. The monster flicked out a tongue to taste the warm skin. The salty flavor overwhelmed it and its strong jaws clamped around Bridget's wrist, but with the first touch of fang to soft flesh, the humanoid still struggling to maintain control of the Dearg-Dul's body, froze.
"Do it," Bridget demanded, seeing his hesitation.
A helpless groan came from Kamerone Cree. His tongue slavered over her flesh, but even though he held her fragile wrist in his mouth, he would not sink his fangs into her flesh.
"Do it, Kam. Do it now!"
The thought of feeding on the mate he loved was repellent even to the beast in him. He should protect her; not cause her pain. She was the dam who would birth his whelp. He must not let anything harm her. With a hiss of fury, he thrust away her arm, shook his head wildly, then scrambled to his feet to bolt out into the raging storm.
"Kam!" Bridget screamed, running after him.
Once outside the cave, he loped across the crest of the hill by the stream. The rain lashed at him as he ran; the wind whipped through his pelt. Now and again he stopped, sniffed the air for possible prey to ease the burgeoning hunger in his belly, then threw back his head and howl for the only blood he smelled was his mate's.
"Kam!?"
Bridget leaned into the onslaught of the hard rain and harsh wind. Her face was soon numb from the cold that tore at her hair and whipped it to a froth about her head. She called out to him, but her words were flung back at her, lost in the thunderous rumble and sizzle of the storm. With grim determination, she headed toward the eerie baying she knew came from the Reaper.
He stopped, hunkered down and turned his head from side to side, his chatoyant eyes seeking out any trace of warmth from which he could feed. There was nothing.
"Kam!"
He hung his head between his paws. The temptation of her warm blood was becoming too much for him. His strength was ebbing and the parasites inside him were whispering vile demands he could no longer ignore.
Bridget almost stumbled over him as she came around a tall pine. He was squatting there, making strange sounds that were part growl and part groan.
"Kam, let me help you."
He resolutely shook his head, his tangled mane spraying droplets of water.
She knelt beside him, her heart thudding as she heard his low, menacing growl. "I love you," she said. "No matter what you are, no matter what you have to do in order to survive, I love you."
In the last embers of humanity alive in his brain, he knew he must not allow her to help him. He had to atone one day for the sin of his very existence— this abomination of nature that was his life— and here and now, in her presence, was just as good a time as any. He turned his head toward the river that overflowed its banks.
Bridget saw where he was looking and took one final tack; made one last-ditch effort to make him see reason.
"Have you given any thought to what will become of me if you die, Reaper?"
He turned his head away from the river and looked up at her. His gaze locked on hers.
"I will go back to Konnor Rhye."
Fierce, savage possession filled his eyes and a low, warning growl came from his throat.
"Is that what you want?" He shook his head violently.
"Then drink!" she insisted, holding out her arm to him.
Still he resisted. As furious as she knew him to be at the thought of another male infringing on his territory, he was still trying to protect her.
"Either drink or let me go back to Koni!" she flung at him. "Which is it going to be?"
Which was worse, he wondered as he fixed his brutal attention on her flesh: To leap into the moving water and drown or live and endure the shame of what she wanted him to do? He would be damned— and her along with him— if he did this, but the thought of another male leaving his mark on her brought out a bloodlust like none he had ever known. As he hunkered there, he thought of the Keeper touching his mate, thrusting into her, seeding her with his litters, and he howled with despair.
Bridget extended her arm to his lips once more, her free hand to the back of his head and pressed him toward her wrist. "Drink, Kamerone. Drink so we can be together."
He closed his eyes in surrender and sank his teeth into her willing flesh. He felt her flinch, heard her slight gasp of pain, and worked his mouth over her flesh, his tongue swirling around the punctures, easing the discomfort.
Bridget stroked his wet fur, pushing the matted strands from his jaw. She leaned her chilled body into the fierce heat of his, accustomed now to the rank smell. "There is an old Scottish blood vow," she said, wincing as he became a bit overzealous in feeding. She eased his head back a little to let him know he was hurting her and saw him look up through his bushy brow. She smiled for his eyes were once more brown, not glowing red, and his ears were back to normal.
"It says: `Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, til our Life shall be done.'"
She heard him growl his agreement to the words and ran her hands through the dark wet curls that were once more sleek and human.
"You are heart of my heart, Kamerone Cree," she whispered. "There is nothing I have that I will not share with you."
As he drank, she became lightheaded and when he sensed it, he withdrew his teeth. He put his thumb over the puncture wounds and pressed firmly to stanch the flow of blood. Before she could say anything to him, he was lithely on his feet, lifting her high against his warm chest and carrying her back to the cave.
"I am sleepy."
"Aye," he answered. "You must rest now."
The last thing she saw before she drifted into a deep, healing sleep, was his worried face— so handsome yet so infinitely sad— peering down at her as he lowered her to the cave floor.
"I love you," she whispered.
Cree lay down beside her, gathered her to him, and drew her head to his shoulder.
"I love you, too, Bridget," she could have sworn she heard him say.
Chapter 19
CREE STOOD rigidly at attention as Admiral Tylan Kahn reviewed the papers that had been sent to him from the desk of the OIC of the Reaper Unit that morning. There was a deep frown on Kahn's face and that usually boded ill for whoever had caused it. He grunted once, snorted twice, and then let out a long exhalation of breath to indicate his irritation. Looking up with his infamous scowl in place, the Admiral tossed the papers aside then sat back into the comfort of his thickly padded chair to glare at the Reaper.
"I am not pleased with you, Commander," the Admiral said. "Not pleased at all. At ease!"
Cree shifted to parade rest, his attention locked just over the Admiral's head. His jaw worked.
"You have something to say, Commander?" Kahn snapped.
"I beg the Admiral's pardon, but I am a Captain."
"Not anymore you aren't," Kahn grated, daring the Reaper to contradict him. He watched a momentarily spark of fury shoot through Cree's dark orbs as they lowered to his. He held that murderous stare for a moment before Cree snapped his attention back to the wall. "Aye, Sir!" Admiral Kahn drew in a long, cleansing breath then reached out to t
ap the papers he had been sent. "And I am not the only one experiencing displeasure at your recent conduct," he stated. "Captain Kullen has signed a formal complaint against you concerning the reprimand you gave his Keeper. The Captain, who, by the way outranks you as of this morning, is understandably upset that you did not come to him with the matter since it is his responsibility, not yours, to punish his crew."
Cree blinked, his rage barely held in check. It was bad enough to be reduced in rank, but something else entirely to have an imbecile like Symthian Kullen outrank him. He did not dare look at the Admiral for fear the man would see the murderous intent forming.
"I want an explanation from you, Mister!" Kahn hissed. "Why the hell did you not go to Kullen with this matter concerning Konnor Rhye?"
At the mention of Konnor Rhye's hated name, Cree's jaw tightened and a muscle jumped in his lean cheek. "Sir, I could not find Captain Kullen when I was forced to reprimand Commander..." He nearly choked on the name. "Rhye."
The Admiral's left brow cocked upward. "Really? And just where exactly did you try looking for him, Cree?"
Cree's forehead creased. "I didn't exactly go looking for him since there wasn't time— "
"And then there is the other reason for Kullen's displeasure," the Admiral informed him
The Reaper lowered his attention from the wall. "I do not follow, sir."
"The female," the Admiral snorted with disgust. "If what Kullen tells me is true— and I have no reason to doubt his word since he has never lied to me— both you and Rhye are after the same woman."
"She is mine," Cree ground out. He raised his chin. "I purchased her legally."
The Admiral smiled nastily. "Aye, right out from under Rhye's nose, too, didn't you, Cree?" When the Reaper did not respond, the Admiral shot up from his chair, his eyes furious. "Didn't you, Cree?"
"Aye, Sir!" the Reaper shouted back.
Kahn said nothing for a long time, then he put his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "To knowingly commandeer another warrior's intended simply because you outrank him is a serious breach of military ethics. I am appalled that you were allowed to do it."
For the first time, Cree felt a shaft of wariness lodge against his spine. Kahn was known for his strict adherence to military protocol and any warrior who did not abide by those strict regulations and mandates, often found himself billeted aboard a mining station in the middle of hell.
"Despite the fact that he is your biological father, I can not understand why Drae Cree saw fit to allow you to take another man's bride-to-be away from him." A hateful look settled on Kahn's face. "At least, Konnor Rhye had honorable intentions in regard to the Terran female. What were your intentions, Commander?"
Once more Cree's eyes met the Admiral. "I purchased her as a domestic. To see to— "
"You had sexual relations with her," the Admiral cut in.
Cree's chin came up. "It was not my intention to take her as a concubine when I purchased her. It was only later that— "
"If I had been on duty that day, I can assure you, I would have denied your request and censured you for making it!" It was on the tip of Cree's unruly tongue to say it was a gods-be-damned good thing Kahn had not been OIC that day for there would have been serious trouble had the request been turned down. Serious trouble and one dead Keeper!
The Admiral straightened, reading Cree's mind easily. "And you would have hanged for it, Mister."
Cautioning himself to control his wayward thoughts around this psychic warrior, Cree resumed his scrutiny of the wall above the Admiral's head.
Kahn folded his arms over his chest. "You not only had sexual relations with this female without obtaining permission from my office, you did so without authorization from the Ministry of Public Health." He grunted irritably. "Is there no end to your insubordination, Cree?"
The Reaper knew better than to attempt to answer that charge unless he wanted to end up flat on his back on Dr. Dean's torture table again. He clenched his jaw and strove hard to think about anything other than his dislike of Kahn and the very real possibly that if the Admiral attempted to return Bridget to Konnor Rhye, there was going to be a murder.
"Oh, I think not," Kahn grated, watching Cree flinch. "Computer!"
"Yes, Admiral Kahn?"
"Send my orderly to bring Commander Cree's concubine to my office."
Cree's gaze flew to the Admiral. "Why?" he asked and could have bitten off his tongue when he saw the glitter of satisfaction flit through Kahn's frigid brown glower.
"Do you dare to question me, Lieutenant?"
Shock puckered Cree's face. He squeezed his eyes shut with helplessness, wincing at the further reduction in rank. If he didn't mind his tongue and his wayward thoughts, he was going to wind up—
"On a garbage scowl in the Epsilon Quadrant," Kahn finished the thought for him.
Cree opened his eyes, letting out a sigh of defeat. "Why are you doing this to me?"
Kahn smiled brutally, and then sat down at his desk. "You have brought all of this upon yourself, Cree," he stated. He leaned back, threaded his fingers together and put them behind his head to brace his neck. Stretching out in his chair, he observed the unease and the hopelessness settling in on Kamerone Cree. "You have no one to blame for your predicament, but you. I find it interesting that you do not realize that, Kamerone."
Once more the muscle bunched in Cree's cheek. Khan was six years Cree's senior and had risen quickly through the ranks with a brutal agenda of his own. Those who had dared to oppose Tylan Kahn, did so either from a lack of understanding of the man's lethal nature, or else they had nothing to lose by pitting themselves against him. It was said that when Tylan Kahn found something `interesting' while disciplining one of his men, that man suffered the ignominy of a crushing defeat.
So what was there to lose?
"Dr. Dunne and I have formed a relationship, Admiral," Cree heard himself explain. He stared right into the other man's face. "One such as I have heard you enjoy with a certain Chrystallusian noblewoman."
The Admiral's smile faded. "Do you dare compare your situation with mine, Cree?"
Cree shook his head. "Not at all, Sir. I am merely making an observation."
Before the Admiral could reprimand Cree for his blatant lack of respect, the Vid-Com interrupted, announcing Bridget's arrival.
"Send her in!"
Cree heard the door shush open behind him and the soft swish of footsteps on the Admiral's thick carpeting. He did not dare look at Bridget as she came to stand beside him although he was more than aware of her body heat and the pleasant scent of her perfume. The hands clasped behind his back tensed, wanting to grab her and run before their lives could be torn apart by Tylan Kahn.
"Dr. Dunne," Kahn said, rising. He extended his hand to her in the time-honored Terran fashion. "Please, sit." He indicated a chair to the right of his desk.
Bridget glanced at Cree before graciously declining the offer. "Have I caused a problem for Captain Cree, Sir?" she asked and wondered why Cree flinched at her question.
"Let me assure you, dear lady," the Admiral smiled. "Any problems he has, Cree has created all on his own." He came around the desk and held the chair. "Now, please. I insist you sit."
Bridget knew she had no choice and took a seat. She cast another concerned look to Cree, but he was staring at the wall, his body as rigid as stone. There was a white line along his jaw and she knew he was grinding his teeth. Something had happened and she heard alarm bells going off in her head. Be careful of this man, she reminded herself; Kahn is dangerous.
"There is no reason to be afraid of me, Bridie," the Admiral said gently, drawing both Bridget's and Cree's attentions immediately to him. "I am told you are from the Midwest. Iowa, is it?"
Bridget nodded slowly, hesitantly. "Yes, Sir."
"Ah, the Heartland," he sighed. "Isn't that what they call it on Terra?"
"Ah, yes. Yes, it is," she replied, glancing up at Cree, but he had yet to look at her.
&n
bsp; "I would like to visit your world one day." He spread his hands. "Unfortunately, I have to leave such conquests of space to my men for the time being. Perhaps when I retire?" He walked behind his desk and sat, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "I am told you are a biochemist."
"Yes, Sir."
"Fascinating work," Kahn remarked. "Had I not been destined for the military, I would have liked to have worked in that field, but, it was not to be since males are not allowed in the scientific fields now."
"I wonder why?" Cree mumbled, causing Bridget to glance warily at his tone.
"You may go, Lieutenant."
Bridget looked around, but there was no one else in the room except for the three of them. She frowned, then when the significance of what she'd heard registered, she gasped, her head snapping toward Cree, her lips parting in shock.
"Aye," Kahn sighed. "I am afraid his little outing yesterday has caused Cree a bit of a problem."
"Sir," Bridget said, standing. "We were caught in the storm without means of communications. Captain Cree tried to raise engineering, but— "
"Did I not tell you that you were dismissed, Lieutenant?" Kahn interrupted, swinging a brittle look at Cree.
Sensing more than just Cree's fury building in the room, Bridget put a calming hand on her lover's arm. "It's all right. I'll explain everything to him."
For the first time, he looked at her. "You cannot." He searched her face.
"Get the hell out of here, Cree!" the Admiral bellowed. When the Reaper looked at him, and the Admiral saw sheer malice staring at him from murderous brown orbs, he stood up slowly, his voice as soft as down. "Or do you want to spend another two weeks on Dr. Dean's torture table?"
"Go!" Bridget was quick to say, pushing Cree. "Now, Kam. Go!"
Cree swallowed the bitter retort he had been about to make, snapped off a crisp salute, then spun on his heel and marched to the door, barely breaking stride as it shushed open then shut behind him.
The room was utterly still, as silent as the tomb, then Kahn let out a long, tired breath. "That sonofabitch is one very stubborn man." When Bridget looked uneasily at him, he smiled. "Come, Bridie. Sit down. We must talk."
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