BloodWind

by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

  "Excuse me, Admiral?" the Vid-Com clicked on.

  "Aye?"

  "Doctors Dean and Sejm are here as requested, Sir."

  Bridget turned to stare at the Admiral. At his nod and pleasant smile, she felt her heart thump hard against her ribcage. "Why are they here?" she asked.

  "Be patient, Bridget," he advised. When the older women entered, he ushered them to the small conversation area off to one side of his desk and sat down with them, Bridget seated beside him on the sofa.

  "Have you told her?" Sejm inquired.

  Bridget looked around. "Told me what?" She looked from one to the other. "What are you doing to him, now?"

  "Nothing that isn't absolutely necessary," Sejm reported.

  "I don't believe that!" She turned her anger on Kahn. "Tell me!"

  "I am going to take you away from him."

  Bridget's eyes widened. "You can't do that!"

  "My adopted son outranks Cree," Dr. Hael Sejm snorted. "He can do whatever he feels like doing."

  If she was surprised at the connection between the Empire's most influential warrior and the Chalean chemist sitting across the way from her, Bridget hid it well. She turned toward Dr. Dean. "This isn't necessary. He knows I'm part of the Resistance."

  "He would have to be the imbecile he thinks Kullen is if he did not know by now." Kahn chuckled.

  Bridget looked at him. "Give me a few more days. I can— " She stopped for Kahn was shaking his head.

  "He took you away from Konnor Rhye; I am taking you away from him," Kahn informed her. "That should be the final push to send him straight into the arms of the Resistance."

  "He has to be made to understand that he is nothing more than a pawn controlled at the whim of the Empire. He no longer has any rank or privilege with them now that he has been demoted. He has to see himself, and you, as being expendable, at the mercy of men who have no regard for love or happiness or morality. I know how that feels; now Cree will know, too!"

  "I will return you to him when the war is over. Have no fear of that."

  "And what if we don't win?" asked Bridget.

  "We will," Kahn said emphatically. "There are more of us than you can imagine, Bridie. We need Cree only because where he goes, the other Reapers will go. Especially now that I have humiliated him and they learn that one they think of as invincible can tumble off his pedestal. They won't like it."

  "And where the other Reapers go, so go the Shepherds and Keepers," Dr. Dean put in.

  "Once we have taken over the Empire, there will no longer be a need for such men," Dr. Sejm declared.

  "Then what happens to Cree?" Bridget demanded.

  "When this is over, the two of you can do whatever you like," Kahn replied.

  "What if he is arrested by the Tribunal before all this comes to a happy end?" Bridget sneered. "Then what?" Her eyes grew wide. "What if he is killed during the takeover?"

  "That is not going to happen and there is no need for you to be worrying that it will!" Kahn stated. "He is the most powerful warrior our worlds have even known. He's not about to allow himself to be caught, Bridget."

  "I know we've asked a lot of you before now," Dr. Dean said, coming to kneel in front of Bridget. She put a comforting hand on Bridget's knee. "And you have risked so much to help us. We understand your hesitation; but we can't finish this without your help."

  "You have come this far, Bridie," Kahn told her. "Can't you go a few steps further? Don't worry about Cree. I'll do everything in my power to keep him out of harm's way."

  "Tylan has considerable authority with the Empire, Bridget," bragged Sejm. "And there are other considerations you do not need to know about at the moment that will insure Cree is alive and in good health when the war is over."

  Dr. Dean glanced at Hael, but didn't question her odd statement. Instead, she patted Bridget's knee. "Do you think I would allow Drae's son to be harmed, Bridget?"

  "You will have a few more months in which to decide," Sejm put forth, standing. "He leaves the first thing tomorrow morning."

  Bridget swung her head toward Kahn. "What is she talking about?"

  "I am sending him to Terra on a Retrieval team," Kahn replied. "As a lowly Shepherd."

  "He'll kill you," Bridget whispered.

  Tylan Kahn chuckled. "He can try, Bridie. He can try."

  HE LOOKED up as she came into his quarters and sighed deeply with relief. Before she could speak, he shot to her and grabbed her in his arms, crushing her to him. "By the gods, Bridget, I thought he was going to take you away from me!" His mouth crushed hers in a bruising kiss that took away her breath. She clung to him as he swept her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. Neither spoke as they tore at the other's clothing until they were naked and entwined.

  "Hold me!" she begged. "Kamerone, please hold me!"

  "Always!" he swore and thrust his claim of her to the hilt.

  Their lovemaking— and he wasn't even sure he could call what they did by so gentle a name— was frenzied, animalistic and he was left with long bloody scratches down his back where she had raked him with her nails. The Reaper tattoo on his chest had a double row of teeth marks through its center. Their bodies were soon slick with perspiration as they strained against one another. The deep growls that rumbled from the back of his throat only underscored the soft whimpers coming from hers. Together, they reached the summit of their lust, then fell gasping back to sanity, their bodies pressed so tightly along one another it was hard to tell where one left off and the other began.

  "Lieutenant?"

  Cree ignored the Vid-Com's smug voice. His hands flexed around Bridget's body.

  "Lieutenant, you are wanted at the door to your quarters."

  Cree let out a vulgar curse then eased his arms from around Bridget. He swung his legs off the bed and snatched up his uniform trousers. He wasn't aware of Bridget's tenseness or the tears falling onto his pillow as he stepped into the leather pants and stomped to the door.

  "Aye?" he snapped, slapping at the control panel. "Who is it?"

  "Yeoman Dants, Sir," the voice on the other side of the Vid-Com screen announced. "I have your orders, Lieutenant."

  "Orders?" Cree questioned. He pushed the button to open the door and before the yeoman had time to step back, Cree slammed his fist against the wall. "These are transport orders!" He swept his angry glower from the black-edged papers to the messenger. "What the gods-be-damned hell are they trying to do to me?"

  A little yelp of terror was the only answer the messenger was capable of giving. The last Cree saw of him, he was fleeing down the corridor, his hands in the air.

  With another vulgar curse, Cree slammed his fist against the control panel, shutting the door, then stalked back into his bedsuite. "The bastard is sending me to Terra tomorrow!" he raged.

  Slowly, Bridget turned over in his bed and looked up at him. "I am so sorry," she said and her shoulders began to tremble. She buried her face in her hands and the sobs came in waves.

  "Ah, Bridget, don't!" he pleaded, coming to sit on the bed and take her in his arms.

  "I am the cause of this."

  "No, you are not," he denied, unnerved by the tears that wetted his bare chest. "Don't cry, Sweeting."

  "I love you!" He was lost in her misery, unmanned by it, and for the first time in his life, felt another person's pain. That it was his mate's made it worse for him and he gathered her to him, lifted her onto his lap.

  "Make love to me," she insisted, her voice full of an emotion he'd never heard before. "Now, Kamerone. Make love to me now!"

  She didn't give him time to either agree or disagree. Her hands tore at him, jerked him to her trembling body. He had no notion what had set her off, but whatever it was, it turned her into a mindless she-beast in heat. When her climax came, she stunned him by throwing back her head and screaming with the release.

  "My god!" he breathed, shaken to his very core by her reaction.

  Almost as soon as the scream died away, she was asleep
, lying exhausted in his arms, her sweat-drenched body clinging to his. He held her all night, never closing his eyes, just watching her sleep, studying the tearstains on her cheeks. Never would he have imagined his departure would create such an intense reaction in her. If he had ever doubted her feelings for him, he doubted them no longer.

  "Lieutenant?"

  Cree signed. "Aye, Helen. I'm getting up."

  He hated to leave. The sight of his mate sleeping so peacefully made him long to stay with her. Tenderly, trying not to awaken her, thinking it best he be gone before she woke, he placed a light kiss on her brow then extricated his arm from beneath her head. He dressed quickly in one of the black serge jumpsuits and was gone before he could make any noise to disturb her sleep.

  "KAMERONE!"

  The Reaper turned and saw her running along the platform toward him. He looked at the men on the gangway, frowning at them until they looked away, then stepped away from the Sirroco's hatch.

  "What are you doing here?" he asked only to grunt as Bridget flung herself into his arms. Had the night before never happened, Cree might well have been embarrassed by her show of affection, but this morning, all he felt was supreme satisfaction that this woman was entirely his and that she loved him.

  "You left without kissing me goodbye," she accused.

  "I did not want to wake you." She lifted her hands to his cheeks, brought his face down to hr level and took his mouth in a brazen kiss that left nothing to the imagination of those watching. It also produced a much loved, but at the moment, much unwanted response in her lover. He pulled his mouth from beneath her assault and took her by the upper arms to set her away from him.

  "This is not the place to be doing this."

  "I don't want you to go!"

  "I don't want to go, but I have orders, Bridget."

  "Kam, please!" she pleaded with him, her hands digging into his forearms. "Tell them to send someone else!"

  "I can't do that," he said sternly. He slid his hands down to hers and gripped them tightly. "You know I can't."

  "If you go, he will— " she started to say but a harsh voice cut her off.

  "What the hell is the meaning of this, Cree?"

  Cree stiffened, cursing under his breath. He let go of Bridget's hands and turned to face Admiral Kahn as he strode toward them. He put Bridget behind him, protecting her with his body.

  "Dr. Dunne came down to see me off, Sir," explained the Reaper.

  "How touching," the Admiral sneered. "Stand aside, Cree."

  A low warning growl issued from the Reaper's throat. Instinctively, he reached down for Bridget's hand, not surprised when she clutched his as though he had thrown her a lifeline. "I will not let you harm my woman, Sir."

  There were gasps from those gathered both inside the airlock and on the gangway. Men backed away from the confrontation and scurried off, not wanting to be a part of this.

  Kahn's eyebrow quirked upward. "Have I given you any indication that it was my intention to harm the lady?" Cree held the Admiral's stare then, not seeing any danger to Bridget in the man's gaze, shook his head. "No, Sir."

  "Then stand aside."

  Cree hated backing down, but he had no choice. Not only did this man outrank him, Kahn would send him to the nether reaches of space if he did not stop provoking him. With his jaw firmly set, Cree stepped away from Bridget, their fingers lingering until all contact was broken by the separation.

  "Now," Kahn said in a reasonable voice. "You have said your goodbye, Dr. Dunne. Lieutenant Cree has a mission to perform and he cannot perform it while standing on this gangway. I want you to go back to his quarters and remain there until he returns."

  Bridget knew why Tylan Kahn had come this morning: he hadn't trusted her to do what she had sworn to do. That she had proved him right had turned his gaze dark with irritation. She turned to Cree, wanting to tell him what the Admiral had planned, but found her lover looking down at the metal floor.

  "Do as he says, Bridget," Cree said without looking up.

  "Kam..."

  Cree lowered his voice so that only she could hear him. "Will you shame me by arguing with me when I tell you to do something, woman?"

  She knew he would believe he had lost face with Kahn if she did, so she ducked her head. "No."

  "Then go back to our quarters."

  "You will be careful?"

  His head came up and he locked his eyes with hers. "I am always careful."

  Kahn folded his arms, wondering if Bridget would say anything else. When she didn't, but turned and ran as fast as she could away from them, he turned the full force of his displeasure on Cree. "We will discuss your unseemly behavior when you return, Lieutenant. Dismissed!"

  Cree nodded, spun on his heel, and entered the ship. If he stayed one nanosecond more, he knew he'd either wind up in the brig or swinging from a stanchion in the air lock. Once inside Captain Feis Coure's ship, he slammed into the Shepherd's chair and turned so that no one on board could see the hopelessness on his face. He listened without interest or comment as the other five members of this strange crew went down the list of pre-flight checks. When it was his turn, he gave his readings in a monotone, and then slumped down in the chair, tuning out everything around him.

  Something wasn't right, he told himself later as the Med Off injected him with hypersleep. He could sense it.

  And he knew Bridget could, too.

  That was what worried him most of all.

  Chapter 20

  THINGS DID not go well on Cree's last mission to Earth. Everything that could possibly go wrong, did. From the moment they entered Terran orbit, one thing after another caused delays that put them weeks behind in the Retrievals. Solar flares drove them out of orbit and behind the protection of Terra's satellite moon before they could be detected by Terran radar. Malfunctions in the ship's sensory probes caused further headaches. The communication console went haywire and started blaring some hideous Terran music called bluegrass. The warp drives shut down. The ship's cybot developed a virus and kept banging into the ship's hull.

  "Can't you turn off that gods-be-damning screeching?" bellowed Captain Coure.

  Lieutenant Saur shrugged. "I wish to the gods I could, Sir," he said, sick of the twanging string instruments. "Does anyone have a notion what an orange blossom special is?"

  Cree could have told them it was a train, but he doubted anyone really cared. He resumed his watch on the sonar and kept his mouth shut.

  "Cree?" Commander Hesar asked, scooting his chair over to the Reaper. "Do you think the Resistance is behind this because you're on board?" He wagged his brows at Cree.

  Kamerone Cree stared at the Keeper for a long time, then slowly smiled. He lowered his voice. "I'm sure you'd know more about that than I would, Commander."

  Tealson Hesar grinned in return. "Good man," he stated, and then rolled his chair back to his console.

  "`Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me,'" Cree quoted. He heard Hesar chuckling.

  "I do not need this now!"

  Every eye turned to Captain Coure who sweated profusely. Faces paled and eyes grew round in their sockets.

  All except Cree's. He ducked his head, grinning maniacally.

  "Cree!"

  The Reaper pushed back from his console. "Aye, Captain?"

  "I am in Transition!" the Captain of the Sirocco screamed.

  "Aye, Sir, I believe you are," Cree agreed. He knew there was no one else on board the ship capable of handling an enraged Reaper except him. He reached out, took Coure's arm. "Let's go."

  "This can not be happening!" Feis Coure exclaimed.

  "Keep telling yourself that." Cree tightened his grip for his Reaper brother was altering rapidly.

  Tealson Hesar watched until Cree had their captain tucked safely away in one of the containment cells. The loud thumps and shrieks set everyone's hair on end and he was grateful Cree was on board. But, he thought, as he returned to his communication console, if Cree hadn't been on bo
ard, Coure would not have gone into Transition in the first place. In the nine years he'd been on Coure's crew, he'd never once seen the Reaper alter. And he never wanted to see it again.

  Cree returned to his console and sat down. "How far are we from home, Commander?" he asked Hesar.

  "Roughly sixteen hours. Why?"

  "We've got a slight problem."

  "Oh, god!" Hesar gasped. "Don't tell me you're going into— "

  Cree shook his head. "No."

  Hesar sighed heavily. "Thank Alel for that! Then what's wrong?"

  Cree ran a hand through his thick curls. "We had approximately eight pints of blood left on board when we left Terran orbit. That should have been enough for both of us. Feis and I were both transfused before we left the station."

  Hesar frowned. "And?"

  "Someone miscalculated, Teal. Two Reapers, five months? There should have been around a dozen or more pints left upon return. No one counted on one of us going into Transition."

  "Damn," Hesar breathed. He looked toward the sleep units where four very important Terran females were lying. "Are you going to have to..."

  "I hope not. It will be necessary for me to give the Captain at least five of those remaining pints to keep him from going insane with hunger. Just keep your fingers crossed that I won't need any more than two pints to see me home to FSK-14."

  Hesar shuddered. What the hell would he do if Cree went into Transition, too?

  The Reaper turned away from the worried look on the Keeper's face. He stared blankly at his navigational screen. It wasn't necessary for Hesar to know that he would remand himself into one of the containment cells where recalcitrant Retrievals were kept should he feel the telltale signs of Transition coming on. That he was willing to subject himself to certain misery and possible lingering death to prevent even one drop of blood from being taken from the Terran women amused him.

  Ah, Bridget. Look what you've done to me, woman.

  BRIDGET SAT before the magnificent sweep of Tylan Kahn's port windows and stared out at the array of passing asteroids beyond the thick Siliplex. Behind her, the soothing sounds of David Arkenstone's Spirit Wind played.