by Bianca D'Arc
Dedication
This one is for the fans who have waited so patiently while I got back on my feet after losing someone so very dear to me. Thanks for standing by me in the tough times. Thanks also for your patience and support. Most of all, thanks for understanding.
And though he will never read this book (for obvious reasons), I’d like to thank my Dad for his love and support of my writing career.
Chapter One
The Tribal Mother’s distinctive whistle summoned Jeri, though she had tried her best to walk from the paddock to the safety of her tent without being noticed. The Mother was talking with a tall male who wore the garments of an outworlder.
“Jeri, show the trader our herds,” the Mother instructed as Jeri walked closer to her. “Take Broome and Asper and ride with him to the south paddock. Give him a good look at the breeding stock, then bring him back to camp.”
Retracing her steps toward the horses, she saddled Broome and Asper. Both were sturdy examples of the fine steeds bred by the Hill Tribes. Jeri led them to where the Mother waited with the outworlder male. The tall stranger watched her with almost sad eyes, she thought.
Something about the man made her wary. And when Jeri was wary, she became silent, as her early life experiences had taught her. Silence and a tightening of her mental shields came naturally to her now after so many years spent hiding from the Wizards of Mithrak.
They used the antiquated name to conjure a sense of fear in the simple people who lived on the mostly agrarian worlds they controlled. They tried to inspire awe by making folk believe they were somehow magical, but Jeri knew better. Her father had taught her and her sister about the old times, when democracy had ruled Mithrak, not the self-proclaimed Wizards.
Just because some people could do incredible things with their minds didn’t mean they were better or worse than anybody else, he’d always said. These Wizards though—they subverted otherwise good people’s Talents for their own use. They were evil through and through, he’d taught his daughters. And they were to be avoided at all costs.
They’d come for her when she was barely a teen. They’d searched for her, over and over. But she’d hidden well and learned to be as silent as the grave, not even a glimmer of her inner power revealing her hiding place. She’d hidden deep in the ruined tower that had been her family home before the Wizards came, until she’d found a way off planet and eventually made her way to Pantur.
Now, Jeri was far from Mithrak, a refugee taken in by the famous Hill Tribes of Pantur. She was welcome among them—able to do the work she was born to, and able to hide her inner power among a people who had none. The Hill Tribes were known throughout the galaxy for their fine horses. They were descended from tribal peoples of old Earth, but they had little psi energy among them. It was a perfect place for her to hide. She’d been born a horse tamer, and her adopted people could neither feel nor understand the powers that made her a natural to the profession. They would also never turn her in to the so-called Wizards, or any who sought her only for her power.
From time to time, traders came to the Hill Tribes seeking horses. She was a minor trainer among the tribes, having proven her worth over the two standard years she’d been with them, but she’d never been entrusted to show a potential buyer around before. Such tasks were given to the older and more skilled trainers, and if truth be known, she wanted nothing of it. She wanted no contact with outworlders who might be able to sense the differences about her.
But the Mother had asked, and so Jeri complied. Silently, she jumped on Asper’s back, the big mare welcoming her presence with a whicker. Jeri watched the muscular outworlder spring lightly onto Broome’s back and was inwardly pleased by his show of skill around her friends, the beautiful horses of Pantur.
The trader was another story. The man made her nervous in a way she did not fully understand. He was by far the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, and his piercing gaze did something to her insides that set them jingling. She tried to avoid his too-knowing gaze, but she could feel it like a laser, following her every move.
His size intimidated her too. Well over six feet tall, he looked down at her with those all-seeing eyes from a face that was ruggedly masculine, with incongruously long, flowing hair. Her fingers itched to comb through those wavy locks.
She knew about the goings-on between males and females. After all, what horse tamer didn’t know these things? But never before had she met a man who made her feel the things she’d heard the girls of the tribe speak about in hushed giggles while the boys weren’t around. This man, however, by his very presence, was teaching her about the feminine responses she thought she somehow had been born without.
Somewhat reassured that she could actually be attracted to a male, she was nonetheless disconcerted that it would be an outworlder. Outworlders were dangerous. Among the tribe, she could be sure no one would pick up on her energies, but she had no such reassurances with outlanders. For all she knew, he was a Wizard, though she hoped she would have already sensed such power in him, if he had it. She’d let down enough of her shields when she first saw him to satisfy herself that he wasn’t showing any Wizard tendencies, but then, her experience was limited to the times when they were actively hunting her. For all she knew, the Wizards didn’t give off telltale energy when they weren’t hunting. She didn’t know, and she didn’t dare take a chance of finding out.
They rode to the south paddock. Jeri limited her speech to short descriptions of the horses they saw on their way. She answered his questions, but she didn’t look at him if she could help it and he got the distinct impression that this little tribal horse tamer didn’t like him.
That didn’t sit well with Micah, Mage Master of Geneth Mar. Of course, aboard his beloved ship, the Circe, and while on the planet of Pantur, he was known only as the trader Micah. Few people knew his true rank as one of the rare StarLords, authorized by the Council to act on their behalf while out among the stars.
He’d done nothing to this little scrap of a woman, and her terseness was getting on his nerves. He’d never traded directly with the Hill Tribes before, leaving that task to his Executive Officer, Darak, but he’d heard only good things from his XO, who was also his cousin, and had expected a smooth transaction with this female-dominated tribe.
The girl’s coldness irked him, and he looked for ways to tease her, hoping to put her in a better mood, or perhaps to tease her out of her icy chill. Even anger would be better than the way she was treating him.
Micah could scent her essence on the breeze and while it was not the perfumed elegance he was used to in the more civilized places he frequented, her scent was honest, primal and it sounded a heated call to his own starved senses. He hadn’t had a woman since leaving on this mission and the lack was telling. He could have joined any of his crewmembers in their pleasures. They would welcome him with open arms.
Pleasure was shared freely in his culture, but he had found himself dissatisfied lately with most couplings where there was not at least some basis for deeper affection and some kind of equality of Talent. True, he loved his little family on the Circe, but he was a solitary man of late. At least he had been since the awful circumstances that had forcibly pushed his psi Talent to the next level, and he didn’t want to inflict his growing melancholy on his friends if he could help it.
Micah had been on a mission to a fledgling world that had recently joined the Council. He’d been undercover to investigate rumors of slave trafficking. Slaving was forbidden on Council worlds and the Council took allegations of such business very seriously indeed. When Micah discovered that not only were they trading in human slaves, but Talented human slaves, he’d needed to gather evidence and
free those people he could. He’d never expected the backlash.
The captives he freed didn’t trust him and didn’t understand what was happening to them. Without the stronger minds and Talents of the slavers controlling them, they’d released a series of mental shrieks that had knocked Micah off his feet. The wave had rolled over him—had been aimed at him. Hundreds of soundless waves of psi energy battered his shields. He survived, but just barely. And when he revived, he was able to calm the traumatized Talents only by sheer force of his will and an unexpected spike in his own powerful Talent.
He’d gone from Mage to Master in that moment when he stepped up to the task of calming and controlling—to a certain extent—the chaotic Talents he’d released. After that, the former slaves realized he was there to help them and calmed down. They’d gone eagerly to the Circe for resettlement on the world of their choice, far away from the memories of being a slave to unethical Talents.
The entire crew had received special commendations for their work, but Micah had unexpectedly risen in power. The things he’d heard from the traumatized minds before he managed to subdue them, however, had changed him forever. He’d seen things through their eyes. Learned things about the way these poor people—mostly women—had been treated. It ruined his faith in his fellow man and made him pull into his own shell more than ever. Being suddenly so much more powerful than his friends and crewmates started a rift that had only grown deeper as time went on. Instead of healing, Micah had closed himself off, unable to deal with the scarred emotions that had been forced upon him.
He was ranked Master now and there were few women of Talent who were his equal. He was afraid he’d never find a partner that he wouldn’t have to hold back with, as he had to do with every psi Talent ranked Mage and below. The rankings were defined levels of ability and power. He’d held a seat on the Mage Council for several years, working steadily at improving his control until recently, when he’d made the jump from Mage to Mage Master.
Everyone on his crew was below Mage level. Young Talents to be nurtured and older Talents who had perhaps already reached the limits of their abilities. None would be an equal to him, and he would always have to hold back some part of his power lest he inadvertently cause them pain or even damage.
But his cousin Darak had no such worries. Ranked Dominar, the level just below Mage, he was only a bit younger than Micah and still randy for any woman willing to give him some action. In fact, he’d left Darak with the women on the ship, taking the trading mission to the planet himself, though bargaining with the locals was usually not something he did. He simply wanted time away from the confines of the ship and he knew from shared psi images that Darak was having the time of his life. Micah didn’t want to interrupt the three-day orgy they’d been enjoying since setting orbit around Pantur.
Darak had rejoined the crew recently, after a long and arduous mission, and he’d earned his pleasure. Micah didn’t mind giving him a few uninterrupted days of recreation before he’d have to settle back into the responsibilities of being the Executive Officer on a trader ship that was oh-so-much-more.
Few knew about the secret missions the trader-cum-spy-vessel accomplished on behalf of the Mage Council. Only a handful knew that the Captain of the Circe was one of the rare and powerful Mage Masters and a respected member of the Council. They would hardly believe that a Talent such as he would even bother trying to tease a psi-blank native of Pantur. What pleasure could be gained from such a woman but the ease of his body alone? There would be no sharing of psi power, no mixing of Talent to titillate and tease the ethereal senses. Only a base coupling that would ease a physical ache.
At this point, even that would be a welcome change to the disenchanted Mage Master. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about singeing her senses, for these people had no Talent among them. It was just not in their genetic make-up. Perhaps without the added burden of dampening his psi abilities, he could just lie back and enjoy a carnal interlude.
And he’d truly enjoy having the lithe and muscular Jeri ride him the way she did her steed. He would settle under her and slap her rump to make her go faster, reveling in the purely physical for once. He could almost feel it as he watched her thighs clutch against the saddle. He felt himself clench as he fell back to watch her.
“We must be moving if you wish to review the sale herd before mid-noon.”
Her voice was gentle as she called back to him. He took it as a good sign. She was clearly flustered by him. It was enough for now.
They stopped about an hour later at a small stream and dismounted to allow their horses to drink and stretch their muscles.
“We are on the south paddock grounds,” Jeri said softly, trying desperately to stay out of reach of the outworlder male. But he seemed to want to always move closer to her in the most disconcerting way. “The sale herd will be here soon to drink, and you can get a good look at them.”
Micah looked down at her from his superior height, his gaze surprisingly warm as she stood transfixed, unable to move away. Her skin tingled, and she realized she was in serious danger of allowing him too close. Since she’d sought refuge with the free-loving Hill Tribes, she’d had to reject a few men and even some women who wanted to share her body, but once she made her stance firm, she was left alone for the most part—except for the odd looks and some of the other girls’ cutting remarks about her strangeness.
This man tempted her as no male had ever before. He was tall and broad of shoulder, built well and heavily muscled. His eyes shone with intelligence and a snapping sort of wit that made her long to discuss all kinds of things with him.
But it was impossible.
She was in hiding. Anonymity was her way. It was the only way to keep her safe from the Wizards and their ilk. Wizards who wanted to tap into her soul’s power and make it their own.
That she would not allow.
She found it hard to move away when this outworld trader’s handsome face blocked the midday suns, leaning down and moving closer.
Before she knew it, his lips were on hers, she was in his arms and he was kissing the breath out of her body. How had that happened? One minute she’d been staring up at his attractive eyes, the next, she was in his embrace, his lips hot on hers as his tongue sought entrance into her mouth.
Jeri had never been kissed in such a way and didn’t quite know what to do. She felt warmed by the light of a thousand suns from within as his hands swept her close to his hard body and his mouth sipped at hers. She opened to him on a sigh of pleasure and let him do as he willed for the moment. She would drink in the experience, she decided rashly, to hold against the cold, empty, lonely days ahead. Just this once, she would find out what a kiss was all about and why the tribe’s girls went on and on about their lovers’ kisses.
His hand moved upward to cup her breast and she was jolted by an almost electrical charge that led from her nipple straight to the growing wetness between her legs. It shocked her out of her reverie, and she realized that she had let the kiss get out of hand. He would think she was inviting him to more, when in fact she had known she would stop him at a kiss and not let this go any further. She didn’t want him to think she was a tease.
She tried to push him away, but her hands were weak, trembling with excitement and new feelings she’d never experienced. She tried to speak, but his tongue tangled with hers in the most delicious way.
She knew she had to do something. This couldn’t go further. She couldn’t give her body to this man any more than she already had. It wouldn’t be wise.
She did the only thing she could, and sent out a silent call to the horses that were nearby, coming for a drink at the stream. Reaching out to them with her mind, she used her gift to call them to her side faster, unsurprised when a big, wet nose came between her neck and his chest, seeking to drive them apart.
The horses had come, and they were claiming her for their own.
Micah laughed as he jumped back from the stallion who’d had the temerity to
push his nose between him and the little horse tamer. He let her go with a heated glance, promising more, but she avoided his gaze and turned her attention to the huge horses that were now crowding around them.
It was odd, really, how they swarmed her, staying near even when they realized she didn’t have treats of food or sugar for them. They nuzzled her small body, careful of their force, treating her with an amazing love and respect he could almost feel vibrating through him.
“They must love you.” He eyed her, stroking the nearest neck of a pretty young mare.
She smiled but didn’t meet his eyes. “They are my friends,” she said shortly, unwilling to look directly at him. “Aren’t they lovely?”
He watched her enjoyment of the huge beasts and how they licked and stroked her with their soft muzzles.
“Lovely,” he agreed, but he had yet to really look at the horses. It was the horse tamer who had caught and held his full attention.
She moved away from him, allowing the herd to separate them, and he turned his attention to the business he’d come here to conduct. He made mental notes of the horses he would bargain for with the tribal Mother, making his decisions easily and quickly. Really, there wasn’t a bad one in the bunch and any of this herd would do well on the agricultural world to which he would transport them.
He pretended to watch the horses, but he really watched the horse tamer. She slipped among them and they each seemed to reach out to touch her as she passed. It was like nothing he’d ever seen. These horses seemed to want to be near her—all of them—as if she were special in some way that only they understood.
It was a puzzle, and Micah was a man who enjoyed deciphering puzzles. It was also something he was very good at.
He worked his way over the herd, always keeping the small horse tamer in his sights as he studied her while pretending to study the horses who practically worshipped her. He remembered the searing kiss they’d shared. Or rather, the kiss he’d given her and she’d accepted.