Maverick

by Cheryl Brooks

  During his flights over the area, he’d spotted a likely site to rest or set up camp if necessary. Greener than the surrounding terrain, the nook was an oasis of sorts, complete with soft grass, a few small trees, and a spring-fed pool. He might have to compete with the local animals for the water, but unless there were condors defending the territory, he was the largest critter around.

  He kept his eyes peeled for any type of vehicle Sula might’ve used to travel out so far. That he never saw anything didn’t mean nothing was there. Even with his keen eyesight, he couldn’t see through rocks. If she’d left her speeder beneath an overhang, spotting it from the air would be highly unlikely.

  He stumbled as he landed at his chosen campsite, thanking the gods that Sula was still unconscious. There would come a time when being out cold would be detrimental; for now, he was grateful.

  Strangely enough, he had no idea what she planned to do—not with her life or whatever had set her on a path into the wilderness. With most people, he had some inkling of their desires, their dreams, and occasionally, their fate. He hated that. Hated knowing things about people that they didn’t know themselves. Such knowledge was unnerving, and for that reason, he didn’t pass on the information. Timelines were significant. He didn’t want to be responsible for messing them up.

  This one, however, was different. He felt as though he was already a part of her timeline—somehow entwined with a woman he’d never met until today. Fate had obviously brought them together. Was he only there to save her and send her on her merry way? Or were they destined to remain together forever?

  Raj…

  She’d hoped an angel would take her to someone named Raj—a man’s name, surely. A lost love, perhaps? He could feel the sadness and the sense of longing in her. The hope that she might be reunited with someone she’d loved.

  Clearly, she’d had no premonitions that a Zetithian “angel” named Aidan Banadänsk would save her and go on to become an important part of her life.

  He’d never had anyone like that in his life—he had roamed the galaxy with his family and never found a single, solitary soul to complete him, to give his life purpose or joy. His gifts had set him apart from everyone he’d ever met, even the family he loved. That it hadn’t driven him insane was a wonder. His sister Althea had a similar problem, although she’d finally realized that the one man whose emotions she couldn’t read was the one destined to be her mate.

  He’d had a vision about Sula. Not a premonition. There was a difference. The one was chiefly visual and a Zetithian peculiarity. He could deal with that. Such visions were infrequent and didn’t necessarily involve the people around him. The other was pure Mordrial, allowing him to glimpse the future of anyone he met and also to push his consciousness ahead a few seconds. Quite often he felt nothing beyond a sense of foreboding or elation upon meeting someone new, while other readings were visceral and terrifying. Readings among friends and family usually concerned only the near future, whereas shaking the hand of a stranger often showed him their ultimate and sometimes horrific fate.

  Kneeling on the soft, fragrant grass, he attempted to release her from the sling without worsening her injuries—or thinking about what would’ve happened to her if he hadn’t been tormented day and night until he finally solved the vision’s riddle.

  Had he saved her for himself or for some greater purpose?

  Time would tell. This was one outcome he couldn’t predict.

  As he removed her backpack and placed it like a pillow beneath her head, something about her stirred the depths of his soul, bringing his own destiny into question. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was annoyed by his inability to know what fate had in store for him. Of all the people he’d ever met, the only two whose futures were as murky as the fogs on Taelit Ornal were him and, now, Sula.

  However, before he could speculate on her future, he had to ensure that she had one.

  * * *

  An angel wouldn’t have asked who Raj was. An angel would’ve known.

  Then again, he hadn’t said he was an angel. He’d only claimed he wasn’t planning to take her to Raj.

  Pain soon expunged any doubts from Sula’s mind. Had she been on her way to the afterlife prior to being reincarnated into another form, she doubted the body of her current life would’ve troubled her quite so much. Therefore, he was no angel—he was certainly not like any angel she’d ever heard about.

  Nor was he like any living being she’d ever seen. A man with pointed ears, feline eyes, and enormous wings? Unless the wings weren’t real. They’d certainly looked real when he’d been sailing through the sky above her. Plenty of black and gray white-tipped feathers, arranged row upon row like those of a bird. Or was she confusing him with the birds in the cave? In the short time before she’d passed out, she’d seen drawings of them on the cave wall, being hunted by primitive humanoids. She’d finally found the evidence she’d been searching for.

  The question was, could she ever find it again?

  The warm sunshine beating down on her face was proof enough that she was no longer in the cave. She wasn’t lying in a pile of stones, either. The ground beneath her was relatively soft, and a gentle breeze carried the fragrance of fresh, green grass to her nose—a smell quite unlike the dank odor peculiar to caves, particularly those inhabited by birds.

  Her leg still pained her, although she could tell that it was at least lying straight. The initial shock of the break that had brought on her fainting spell had passed. She was thirsty, almost to the point that her tongue seemed cemented to the roof of her mouth. An attempt to moisten her lips failed.

  Within moments, a hand slipped behind her head and a cup was held to her lips. As the cool water soothed her parched mouth, she recalled doing the same for Raj in the last hours of his life.

  Dear, sweet Raj. So intelligent, such a promising student, and the one man she would never forget. The love of her life—or rather, the lost love of her life—and she’d had to watch him die.

  She’d been helpless to prevent his death or even ease his suffering. The aftereffects of the disease were nearly as bad. Within hours, even his body was gone; nothing remained of him aside from the clothes he’d been wearing and a pile of dust that was soon scattered by the wind.

  Surrounded by an eerie silence, she’d returned to their ship. Purely out of habit, she’d gone through the decontamination process. The scanner proclaimed her to be free of disease, although she hadn’t been sure she could trust even that. She and Raj had gone through a similar process prior to their departure, and yet Raj had been among the first to fall ill. They’d had minimal contact with the natives, observing rather than interacting with them directly. Granted, they’d barely begun their study before Raj began to feel sick, but on the whole, the natives had seemed industrious and intelligent, and appeared to live together in relative harmony. Rather strange in appearance, perhaps, but that was to be expected.

  Not nearly as strange as her rescuer. Despite being somewhat afraid to take another look, she opened her eyes a teensy bit.

  The wings were gone.

  So they weren’t real after all.

  The long golden curls remained, as did the peculiar eyes. Rather than the usual dark, round pupils, his were vertical slits that emitted a soft, golden glow. His ears came to a point like those of a storybook elf, and a pair of straight brows slanted up toward his temples.

  “Glad you’re awake,” he said. Then he smiled, revealing his sharp fangs.

  A scream had nearly left her throat when she remembered something from her studies that caused her to gasp instead—a textbook description of a nearly extinct species of feline humanoids.

  “You’re Zetithian.”

  Order Cheryl Brooks’s next book

  in the Cat Star Legacy series

  Mystic

  On sale January 2019

  Acknowledgments

>   My sincere thanks go out to:

  My loving husband, Budley

  My awesome sons, Mike and Sam

  My talented critique partners, Sandy James, T. C. Winters, and Nan Reinhardt

  My keen-eyed beta reader, Mellanie Szereto

  My long-time editor, Deb Werksman

  My fellow IRWA members for their enthusiastic support and encouragement

  My insane cats, Kate and Allie

  My sweet barn cat, Kitty Cat

  My trusty horses, Kes and Jadzia

  My peachy little dog, Peaches, who dearly loves to come along whenever I mow the pasture

  But most of all, I’d like to thank my wonderful readers who keep asking, “When will you write another Cat Star book? We need to know what happens to the kids!”

  About the Author

  A native of Louisville, Kentucky, Cheryl Brooks is a former critical care nurse who resides in rural Indiana with her husband, two sons, two horses, three cats, and one dog. She is the author of the ten-book Cat Star Chronicles series, the Cowboy Heaven series (two books and one novella), the Soul Survivors trilogy, the four-book Unlikely Lovers series, and several stand-alone books and novellas. Maverick is the first book in her new Cat Star Legacy series. Her other interests include cooking, gardening, singing, and guitar playing. Cheryl is a member of RWA and IRWA. You can visit her online at www.cherylbrooksonline.com or email her at cheryl.brooks52@yahoo.com.

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