 
# SciFi Romance Series Starters Bundle

## Aurelia Skye

#### Amourisa Press
Amourisa Press and Kit Tunstall, writing as Aurelia Skye, reserve all rights to CATCHING HELL. This work may not be shared or reproduced in any fashion without permission of the publisher and/or authors. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© Kit Tunstall, 2016

Cover Images: Depositphotos.com/ysbrand; romancephotos; bloodua; g_studio; muro; jacoblundphoto; mppriv

Edited by A.G., T.K., and K.S.

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**Join Kit's** Mailing List **to receive notification of new releases and access bonus chapters for your favorite books. You get six free books just for signing up. If you prefer to receive notifications for just one, or a few, of Kit's pen names, you'll have the option to select which lists to subscribe to at signup.**

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### Contents

Blurb

Catching Hell (Hell Virus #1)

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Bonus Excerpt of Surviving Hell (HV#2)

Hunted (Wounded Warriors #1)

Blurb

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

Bonus Excerpt of Relentless (WW #2)

Author Bio

Written In The Stars (Dazon Agenda #1)

Join Juno Wells' New Release List!

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Bonus Excerpt of Alien's Babies (DA #2)

About Aurelia

About Juno

Station Commander's Surrogate

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

True North: Death & Destruction

Blurb

1. Crisis

2. Loss

3. Revelations

4. Not Nara

5. Dr. Strange

6. Testing

7. An Unexpected Visitor

8. Escape

About Aurelia

# Blurb

Get this collection of three books from Aurelia Skye's most popular series. This is a gratis bundle that includes Catching Hell, Hunted, and Written In The Stars (co-authored with Juno Wells).

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Catching Hell starts off the Hell Virus series, about what happens after a viral apocalypse kills 90% of the population and a disproportionate number of women. (SF, postapocalyptic, and RH.)

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Hunted is the starter for the Wounded Warriors series, about a group of shifters hunted by the government to hide the proof of the experiments they underwent.

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Written In The Stars is the first book of the Dazon Agenda. Earth women with a rare disease are missing by the hundreds, taken by the Dazon aliens. What is their purpose?

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Station Commander's Surrogate is the first in the Olympus Station series. Piper thought she'd left her first love long behind when he married her sister, but she can't refuse his request for help to save his child after her sister's death. He's finally noticed her, but can they be happy when whomever killed her twin tries to kill Piper?

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Death & Destruction is the first in the "True North" serial. Everything North knew about her life is a lie, but she's ready to find the truth with six paranormal bodyguards at her side.

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postapocalyptic, alien invasion, first contact, science fiction romance, reverse harem, viral apocalypse, shifters, paranormal romance bears shifters, vampires, fan, shifters, fated mates

# Catching Hell (Hell Virus #1)
# Blurb

The HLV virus, dubbed Hell Virus by the survivors, wiped out ninety percent of the population. Running low on supplies, Alyssa has to leave the safety of her sanctuary to find food. She's ill-equipped to deal with a SHTF situation, and she's nearly raped on her first run. A small squad of military men save her and take her in, with the stipulation she becomes a fully functioning member of their team. She wants to learn how to take care of herself, but she also finds herself wanting to take care of ALL the soldiers in creative and unexpected ways. Life without pleasure is pointless, but when she's already lost everything else, can she risk losing her heart to the group?

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_This is the bundled collection of the completed serial. Alyssa is learning about her own boundaries, survival, and how to love more than one person. If the idea of a polyamorous relationship with multiple men bothers you, this probably isn't the series for you. If you enjoy sex with your survival, and you'd like to indulge in the fantasy of having a group of hot military men at your command, you'll probably enjoy this story. Be aware this is definitely on the steamy side and appropriate for 18+ only. It's a new adult title and not intended for young'uns._

# Chapter One

I hadn't seen another person in at least two months. It was difficult to keep track of passing time, but I'd found an old calendar in my mom's sewing room. It was from three years ago, and I knew she'd kept it because she liked the flowers painted on it. The days were probably wrong, but the dates would always be the same, and crossing off a little box was strangely satisfying each night. It was a mark to show I had survived one more day. Who would have imagined life would be like this, that someday I would consider it a victory that I got to put a mark on a calendar box?

I wasn't entirely certain surviving another day was actually that much of a victory anyway. I had nothing much to live for now that my family was gone. They were taken out in the first wave of the virus, all except my sister. She was there with me when my mother, father, and brother succumbed to the HLV virus.

I couldn't remember what HLV stood for anymore, but Becky and I had started calling it the Hell Virus. It seemed as appropriate as anything, considering the way it ravaged the people who caught it. It started with a flush that permeated their bodies, along with a high fever that never broke. Their brains cooked in their skulls, and their hands turned into claws as the body stiffened with convulsions they couldn't control in the last throes of the fever.

Having watched them go through it, Becky and I had concluded they were lucky it was over for them, though we had mourned our family. At least we still had each other. Then.

That was before the second wave, and the last I'd heard from the news—which had been spotty even before then—we could thank an ambitious pharmaceutical company for that development. They had rushed a vaccine to market without proper testing or safety protocols, and because an old congressional act exempted them from repercussions for such actions, they seemed to focus more on profit than on safety. I was sure that someone somewhere had wanted to actually prevent people from getting HLV, but wasn't naïve enough to think it had been their primary concern. That had been the bottom line, at least according to my dad, and he'd been a smart man about such things.

While the pharmaceutical companies mixed up their death cocktail, doctors tried to unravel the virus itself. They had determined there were three types of people—those whose immune system suppressed it into a dormant state, those who were completely immune, and those who would succumb to infection. The lethality was close to one hundred percent. They had established that by the time the vaccine was available for volunteers to try it.

Neither my sister nor I knew then if we were dormant or immune, but Becky had volunteered to receive the vaccine, while I had refused. My parents had always been skeptical about such things, eyeing with suspicion anything that fueled the corporate machine over the welfare of people. Unfortunately for Becky, she had been selected to receive it, and it had reactivated and mutated the strain that had been dormant in her. That's how we knew she'd been dormant instead of immune, because the immune people hadn't caught Hell Virus even in the second wave.

The original strain had been dormant in her immune system, but the vaccine had created a further complication and added a new twist. Not only did she die from high fever, but she bled out in the process. Of course the original strain of the virus, which had been airborne before its mutation and remained so afterward, picked up the adaptation quickly enough, and it didn't matter if you'd had the vaccine or not. Only some who had originally been immune remained immune to the new and improved Hell Virus.

All told, between both strains, the losses were projected to be around ninety percent of the population, according to the last newscast before the station went dark. I'd at first assumed a media blackout, but then other stations went offline, and the power grid had failed early the next morning. I remembered it clearly, both because it was the last time the TV functioned and because the power went down two days after Becky died.

My folks hadn't been preppers, but they had been prepared. They were skeptical of the government's willingness to be forthcoming and had tried to prepare for any sort of disaster. More than once, I'd heard them discuss the repercussions of an EMP blast or a total financial collapse. I had always been somewhat dismissive of their fears, but I'd never mocked them. My parents raised me to be open-minded, to consider other ways of doing things, and to think for myself. Never just trust anyone and take them at their word, especially if they were in a position of power over you, as corporations and the government were.

With their mindset, they had stockpiled some food and a few weapons. I knew how to use them, and the food had been enough to sustain us for almost nine months, since the country went into lockdown as the virus crept over the nation, and most people voluntarily quarantined themselves in their homes.

My parents and my little brother Jimmy had been gone within the first month after the first wave of the outbreak, but Becky and I had endured for almost another five months together before she got the vaccine.

As I loaded the gun, preparing myself to step outside, I wished my parents had been hardcore peppers with thirty-plus years of food in storage. Unfortunately, they'd been prepared for short-term disaster, never expecting something like the HLV virus. The sad reality was I was on my last case of food, and I didn't want to wait until I was out. If I went foraging for food when I was weak and hungry, I was likely to end up dead.

As far as I knew, there was no one else alive in my neighborhood. I wasn't expecting to find a whole lot though, because almost three months ago, a large group on motorcycles had moved through the area, picking things clean. When I first heard their approaching engines, my instinct had been to step outside and flag down someone. I'd lost Becky just two weeks before, and I was already feeling the ache of loneliness and the need to connect with another human being.

Something about the situation held me back though, and instead of going out to greet the arrivals, I had retreated into the subbasement through the trapdoor, hidden by the fake panel of flooring my mom had nailed to it. If you were standing in the main basement, you wouldn't be able to tell there was a trapdoor leading to the subbasement. That was where Mom and Dad had fashioned their semi-bunker and stored all their supplies.

I hadn't had time to grab the few things I'd kept upstairs, and I figured they'd be picked clean, and I was right when I emerged hours later, after the sounds of their engines had faded. They messed up the house a bit and stole some things, including my favorite pillow, but the damage could have been far worse. I knew that, because I watched through the periscope in the basement, installed by my father, who had been ex-Navy. I think the idea had started as a joke, but it had proven useful and my only means of following the chaos outside.

I'd seen them ravage the neighborhood and load things into their repurposed U-Hauls. They'd strewn everything about, leaving piles of discarded objects in the streets and people's yards. They'd made me angry as I witnessed their destruction, but I couldn't bear to watch it for long. Most of all, I watched the cage.

That had been an awful sight, and if I'd had more weapons and training, I probably would have tried to liberate the four women being held in the cage. It was on a trailer fashioned to the back of a large motorcycle, and they were forced to stand pressed together to fit into the small enclosure. I had a feeling if they'd discovered I was hiding, they would have made room for one more in that cage, so I hadn't ventured out. I'd stayed quiet and still as they'd pored through my house and took my meager stores upstairs, leaving me nothing. If it weren't for my parents, I would have had nothing, and I would have ended up in that cage.

I'd been too afraid to leave the house since. I hadn't even gone outside except at night to bury my waste and try to tend to the garden as best I could in the dark. Without enough water and proper illumination, it was a losing task, and though I knew the food growing there was crucial, I'd finally abandoned it. I was just too afraid to go outside.

Now, things had come to a head. I could put it off for another week, relying on the last of my rations until I was starving, or I could summon some courage and step outside. Surely that gang was long gone, and though I doubted I'd find anything of use in the houses around me, I at least had to try. After that, I'd have to go farther afield, and the idea made me break out in a cold sweat.

I slipped the shotgun over my shoulder and grasped the rifle in my hand. The shotgun was my backup weapon, because it held less ammo, but it was also easier to aim. I had limited experience with the weapons, though my parents had insisted on drilling all us children on the proper use and safety when they first acquired the gun safe and stocked it with a few weapons.

I'd never had much interest in it though, and I hadn't honed my skills. That was coming back to haunt me, but I didn't know how to practice now. Target shooting would waste shells and be too loud. It would give away my location in this eerily silent world, only occasionally broken by a pack of raving maniacs on their motorcycles, with their sex slaves in tow.

The weather was pleasantly cool this early in the autumn morning, and I donned a flannel shirt over my jeans and camisole. I expected it to get hotter later on, so I had dressed in layers. I wore a backpack on my back, currently mostly empty, that I was hoping to fill with supplies.

Unfortunately, my supposition about the neighborhood proved correct. I covered three blocks in as many hours, seeing more dead bodies than I wanted to even start to count. It was obvious who'd died during the first wave, and who had died after Hell's mutation. There was a lot more blood and fresher corpses in the second scenario.

All my scavenging left me was a bag of dog jerky treats I had a vague idea of being able to rehydrate in some water to make a soup base and a dented can with no label. I had acquired it at a different home, but knowing my luck, it would also prove to be dog food of some sort. Maybe I'd luck out, and it would be that fancy cat food that looked almost like real tuna.

I laughed at the thought and jerked, startled at the sound. I hadn't had any reason to laugh over the last few months, and I hadn't spoken a word out loud in just as long. I guess I'd gotten in the habit of being silent, trying to remain invisible. In this new world, I had no idea who was a predator, but I didn't want to be prey.

Feeling defeated, I made my way back to my house, knowing I'd have to venture out the next day, or at least the day after. I couldn't put it off any longer than that. At the last house I checked, which happened to be my next-door neighbors' and the home of my ex-boyfriend, who had become an ex long before he'd become a corpse, I found Jeremy's old dirt bike still in the garage. The keys were on a shelf with hooks in the garage, hanging where they'd always left the house and car keys.

The key for their fancy Mercedes SUV was there as well, and I thought about it briefly, but wasn't sure what the roads were like. The dirt bike seemed more maneuverable, though loud. Of course, either vehicle would be loud enough to announce my presence. Maybe I should just go on foot, but I wasn't certain I could reach anywhere I could search and still make it back to my house before dark if I started walking. I wasn't ready to leave the safety of my home for more than a few hours, let alone an overnight or longer stay. I wasn't ready for any of this, but I knew I was going to have to toughen up and do it anyway if I wanted to survive.

I took the key with me and closed the garage again, certain the dirt bike wouldn't be disturbed, but deciding not to leave the key with it just in case. If there was more activity in the neighborhood than I was aware, why make it easy for them to steal my planned scouting vehicle?

I went home and made my way down to the subbasement, where I had moved permanently after the motorcycle gang had come through. I was sleeping on a self-inflating mattress that required a couple of pumps of the foot pump every few days to stay solid. It wasn't as comfortable as my old bed, but there was no room in the small space to bring down the queen-size from upstairs, and I wasn't sure I could handle it by myself anyway.

Oh, I could move the mattress, and probably the box springs, but there was no way I could move the heavy frame and headboard set my mom had carved with her own hands. It was one of her first endeavors in carpentry when I was just eight years old, but it was still sturdy and beautiful, as gorgeous as the day she had applied the final layer of stain. She could have sold it for a few thousand dollars, and as her reputation as a woodworker had grown, I was certain she could have gotten even more for it, but it had been a gift to me, and I cherished it. I knew in my heart I'd probably have to leave my house someday, and for good, and the bed was what I'd miss the most.

# Chapter Two

I wasn't prepared for what I saw when I left the safety of my neighborhood. At first, it was just the multiple dead bodies that got to me, especially those trapped in various stages of suffering that were easy to discern from the ways they had fallen. I'd expected to find more people alive, since there should, in theory, be at least ten percent of the population left, but we were in Wyoming, and this part of the state had always had sparse population. Still, it was eerily silent, and I was certain I was alone.

I'm not sure if that's what made me careless, or if I just didn't have enough training or skills to really prepare to meet someone else with bad intentions. Whatever the case, I found one of those big box stores an hour-and-a-half into my ride and thankfully pulled into the parking lot.

I started to take a parking spot, and then I laughed at the absurdity of it. I could take my dirt bike inside the store if I wanted. I'd be able to navigate through most of the aisles, and it would make for an easier getaway, should the need arise. It was a little tricky getting through the sliding doors, because they no longer slid since the store had lost power.

I was able to lodge a tire iron I liberated from the open trunk of an abandoned car in the parking lot into the small crack in the door and pry it open with sheer strength. I wanted to stick my tongue out at Mrs. Fleming, the gym teacher who'd mocked me throughout my high school career for being a weakling. I didn't know if she was alive or dead and was surprisingly upset at the thought of the mean old harridan having been wiped away by the Hell Virus.

Shaking off the melancholy, I proceeded into the store cautiously on my dirt bike. I'd always been good with tools and mechanical things, perhaps inheriting that from my mother, because my father was more cerebral than hands-on, and it didn't take long to fashion a makeshift cart behind my dirt bike when I stopped in the sporting goods section. I bungee-corded it to the frame and decided it would be sturdy enough for the trip home. I might be able to modify it with road tires that were more appropriate, but that was a task for another day. For now, I simply wanted to get enough supplies to return to my hidey-hole for at least another few weeks.

The store was pretty picked over, though I procured some stale chips, a case of beer that had only nineteen cans—being eighteen, I'd never had a chance to go away to college before the virus struck, so I hadn't really done much drinking, but I figured the beer might be good for sterilizing things. Any alcohol was, right? And maybe I'd want to get blind, stinking drunk some night and forget all about being alone in this horrible world.

I found a carton of eggs with ten remaining. One was mysteriously gone, and the other one was smashed. I sniffed them experimentally, deciding they might still be good. I knew they could stay preserved in a cool, dark area for up to a month, so what did I have to lose by taking them? I'd certainly know if they were spoiled as soon I started cooking them.

I picked up a few cleaning supplies, slightly amused that those aisles were almost fully stocked. I guessed people didn't care about being clean in the apocalypse. I knew it was important to try to maintain good sanitation though, so I picked up bleach and other chemicals that my mom and dad would have been horrified to see in their house. They had purchased organic cleaners, but I didn't see anything like that available here at the big-box store, and I figured even those chemicals had to be better than nothing. I was far more likely to die from eventual starvation, or at the hands of evil people, than I was to get cancer from the cleaning chemicals.

I considered it worth the trip when I found a case of toilet paper. It was the rough, scratchy stuff my mom never would have bought, but it would have to do.

I picked up a few random bits here and there, piecing together enough rations to survive another week. It wasn't the haul I'd hoped for, but it would have to do.

I needed clean clothes desperately, so that was my next stop. My parents had stored water, but not enough to waste on washing clothes. I couldn't see wasting that much water when I wasn't sure how or when I would get more. Instead, I'd taken to wearing my clothes at least three times, until they were disgusting, and tossing them away.

I'd gone through all of my wardrobe, most of Becky's remaining items, and the rest of my mom's in the last nine months.

I might be able to squeeze into Jimmy's things, but he was only thirteen. Granted, he was a large kid before he'd died, and I was on the petite side, but I wasn't sure about his jeans and other sundries. I'd been saving them as a last resort, since there was no way my dad's things would fit. He'd been a big bear of a man, on the obese side, with a shaggy beard and a hearty laugh. My eyes burned as I remembered his laugh, wishing I could hear it again.

I cleared the tears away and set about outfitting myself. I had lots of room left in my cart, since there hadn't been much in the way of food. The clothing section was as picked through as the rest of the store, but I was lucky I wore a smaller size. I could even squeeze into some of the girls' clothes for things like leggings and pajama pants. All the mediums were gone, and most of the extra-large and plus-size clothes too. There were a few size-large items left, and a lot of small and petite—a lot being subjective and influenced by the store having stocked the sizes to start with.

I was able to fill up my shopping cart the rest of the way before selecting new hiking boots. I'd be doing a lot of walking in the coming days if I was going to have to leave my sanctuary on a regular basis.

It was a foolish thing to do, but I didn't even think about it. I truly thought I had the place to myself, and it seemed unnecessary to go into the dressing room to change when I was right there by the items I needed. I stripped down, taking off everything, and reached for a package of baby wipes. I'd found a case of those, along with some diapers. I'd left the diapers, having no need of them and assuming someone else might, but I had been ecstatic to find the wipes.

The baby wipe bath wasn't as clean as the pan bath I let myself have the luxury of twice a week, but it was certainly better than nothing. I felt less grimy, though I couldn't fool myself into pretending I was clean as I slipped on new socks, new underwear, and a pair of jeans.

I was just about to fasten my bra when arms wrapped around me. I screamed before a hand clamped over my face, cutting off my ability to breathe. I tried to struggle, but the person had taken me by surprise. Person? No, it was definitely a man. I was able to identify that by the fleshy arms around me, and the thick growth of dark hair sprouting from his forearms. The hand was far too large to belong to most women as well, and when the form forced me to the floor, making me bend down with my butt in the air so he could rub himself against me obscenely, there could be no doubt it was a man holding me.

If I could have spoken, I might have been dumb enough to ask him what he wanted, but I knew what he wanted. It was obvious. Like a fucking idiot, I had left my guns in the shopping cart, laying them there while I slipped on clean clothes. It was just a few feet away, but those feet might as well have been miles.

When he started tugging at the new jeans I'd just put on, I realized I was angrier at the idea of him ripping them than I was at him attacking me. It was an irrational response, but it must have been fueled by adrenaline. Somehow, I managed to wedge my elbow free and bring it back, colliding with his cheek. His hand fell away, and I grunted as pain flared up arm, but mine was nothing compared to his curse and shout, indicating I had done more damage to him than myself.

As his hold weakened, I tried to scramble away, but couldn't quite make it. Instead, I turned over and tried to wedge my feet between us, hoping I could kick him off me with a move similar to the leg presses I'd had do in gym class during the weightlifting unit, when Mrs. Fleming had seemed to take particular joy in torturing me with all the machines at her disposal.

Unfortunately, I couldn't manage to move any farther than getting my knees against his chest. All that did was open up my thighs to him, allowing him to press his denim-clad dick between my legs. Bile seared my throat, and if I had eaten anything recently, I probably would have been able to vomit all over him. Instead, I simply dry heaved and kept fighting as he put his hand between us.

The creep was clearly intent on removing his penis from his pants and putting it inside me without invitation. At least he was no longer holding my face and blocking my flow of oxygen, so I was able to think more clearly, and I started screaming again. At that point, I didn't care who came, though I really didn't expect anyone. I thought it was just me and Mr. Rapist, and I prepared myself for the worst.

I certainly didn't expect five men in military garb to suddenly appear, surrounding us. For a moment, I thought they must be with the asshole pinning me down, but then one of them, the tallest of the group, who had gleaming ebony skin, a bald head, and thick muscles, leaned down and lifted the scumbag off me, seeming without any effort at all. He tossed him against a shelf, and another one of the five trained his gun on the dirt bag as he stood over him, yelling, "Don't move, you rapist piece of shit."

I wanted to be strong and cool, but it isn't every day you're nearly raped, and I fell apart. I was embarrassed as tears flowed from my eyes. Strong arms picked me up, holding me against a muscled chest as I cried. In my current state, I was amazed to realize I was burying my face against the hard planes under my face, sniffing appreciatively.

He smelled lightly of sweat and something pungent, like gun oil, but he also smelled clean. When I finally had myself composed enough to look up into his brown eyes, I took in the fact he was noticeably more presentable than I was, and his dark hair was cropped close to his scalp in a scrubby fashion.

I had the strangest urge to run my fingers through it, pausing to linger at the faint hint of gray overtaking the temples. He had to be in his mid-to-late thirties, but I was suddenly wet between the legs, and I somehow kept myself from cuddling against him while arching my pelvis.

Maybe I was starved for human contact, or it was because he was such an attractive man holding me so close, or it might even be a reaction to the violence I'd just endured. Whatever the explanation, I had the sudden impulse to jump on him.

Instead, I forced myself to pull away, and his arms dropped quickly. I realized I was still standing there topless, and heat filled my cheeks. As though aware of what I was thinking, the soldier beside the one who'd lifted me up handed me a bra from the cart, and they all averted their eyes as I slipped it on, followed by a clean T-shirt. When I was dressed, I cleared my throat, and they looked at me again.

All but the prostrate scumbag on the floor, who was kneeling on his knees with his forehead touching the cold tile. I scowled at him. "What do we do about him?"

"There's no justice system anymore," said the one who'd held me, his voice deep and gravelly, making my stomach spasm with pleasure that shot farther down into my core. "What do you think we should do with him?"

"Shoot him." I should have been shocked by the words flowing from my mouth, but I wasn't. They just felt right. If he'd prey on me, he'd target anyone else who crossed his path as well, either male or female. Anyone he could use to better himself or his situation would be fair game.

I barely finished uttering the words before the one acting as his guard glanced at the one who'd held me, received a nod of permission, and fired his seriously scary-looking rifle. The rapist perv didn't even have a chance to flinch or beg for mercy. He was just dead.

I nodded my satisfaction and smiled at the one who'd given the order before smiling at the one who'd carried it out. "Thank you."

"What's your name, honey?" asked the one who'd picked me up off the floor.

"Alyssa Nolan." I had the absurd urge to stick out my hand as a form of greeting, but I didn't. I hadn't yet reached the age group where that was the norm for meeting new people, and other than a few job interviews for shitty summer jobs I'd done in preparation to save for college, I hadn't had many formal occasions where I needed to shake someone's hand. Considering I'd rather fondle other bits of him, I decided it was safer to keep my hands to myself and just nodded at him.

"I'm Captain Shane Morrison, and this is my group." He pointed to the one standing farthest to my right, a young man a few years older than me, I estimated. "That's Private Wesley Tate." Next, he introduced the one standing between himself and Tate. "This is Corporal Maddox Tillman." He nodded his head to the big black guy. "That's Lieutenant Jamar Johnson." He waved to the man who'd shot the attempted rapist. "And Sergeant Han Martinez."

My eyes widened, and I knew it was silly even as I asked, "Han? Like Han Solo?"

He grinned at me, his approval clear in his brown eyes. "Bingo, Alyssa. My real name's Alejandro, but I decided to go by Han after I saw the first set of movies as a kid."

I wrinkled my forehead. "Which first set? The set that actually came first, or the set that came later, but wasn't nearly as good?"

He winced. "Episode four, baby. My folks started me right. None of the fake first trilogy until later on."

It was a surreal conversation, but the normality of it was soothing, and the last of my tremors had faded away. I was feeling a little awkward and suddenly shy, though that wasn't really like me. An inane question popped from my mouth. "Are you guys from around here?"

Shane shook his head. "We're from farther north and met up along the way from different units."

For the first time, I realized they wore diverse types of camouflage. I didn't know anything about military, but assumed that meant they were from separate branches. Or something.

"We're trying to make it to an area where farming is better, and the locations are more secure. My squad was posted near the Canadian border, but I was the only one who survived the virus. Same story with the others. We banded together and thought Montana might be a good place. It's supposed to be a preppers' paradise, so we're hoping to find a prepper's setup that survived the Hell Virus."

I grinned. "That's what you call it too? That's what my sister and I always called it," I added to clarify in light of his confused expression. "I guess the Hell Virus isn't all that original, but it sort of felt like our own invention." I was aware of the melancholy bleeding through my tone.

"Is your sister still with you?" asked Jamar.

I shook my head. "She was one of the first to receive the vaccine. Her boyfriend had known the local doctor coordinating the effort, and though she lost him in the first wave of Hell, she still knew the doctor well enough to sign up as a volunteer and be selected."

Han flinched. "That's rough shit. Sorry, babe."

I tried not to take the endearment personally, or read anything into it. He struck me as the flirtatious type, and though I'd been solidly interested in the man who had picked me up off the floor, I now allowed my eyes to really evaluate the form of Alejandro Martinez. My mouth was watering in no time, and my panties were surely a sodden mess by now. I'd have to shed this new pair already and slip on a fresh pair.

First, I'd probably indulge in a rousing round of masturbation. After having my libido turned off for months due to grief and just trying to survive, suddenly sex was all I could think about. And though that was normal, it certainly wasn't typical of the person I'd been before all this. I couldn't ever recall finding myself attracted to two men on the same day, within the same hour of meeting them, and wanting to fuck them both.

Fuck. That was funny. I hadn't ever fucked anyone. I'd had the opportunity, but not the interest. My neighbor-slash-ex-boyfriend would have been happy to fuck, but I hadn't wanted to with him. It had seemed too soon, and I didn't want to ruin something that should be special. Now, fuck special. I had a feeling if they whipped out their dicks and offered them, I'd be on my knees sucking in no time and thanking them for it. Who knew the apocalypse would turn me into such a wanton?

I nodded, trying to hide my reaction. "I'm sure we've all lost people." It was all I could say about it, still not able to talk about losing Becky, Jimmy, and my parents. I wasn't sure I'd ever really want to talk about it. What good would talking do? It certainly wasn't going to bring them back, and it just brought events back to me, making it that much harder to get through the day so I could cross off that box on my calendar.

Trying to change the subject, I asked, "So you're here on a supply run as you move through?"

Shane hesitated for a moment. He seemed to be mulling over the situation before giving me an answer. "That's not entirely accurate. We've commandeered a base, and we plan to stay here for the winter. We don't want to get stuck eating each other in Montana if we can't find a suitable place to hunker down and get a working farm in order before cold weather hits."

I grinned at him. "I could see where that is unappealing." In all honesty, I wouldn't mind eating them though...at least in a way. "I don't know what base you're talking about though. There aren't any military bases in this part of the state."

Wesley came over to me, putting his arm around my shoulders like we were old friends. I would have minded, except it felt good to have his hand on my arm, his body pressed against mine. Damn, I was attracted to him too. I was the stereotypical hormonally driven teenage mess right then, going to pieces around some cute guys.

Cute was hardly the word though. These were hardened soldiers, and while they were all attractive in different ways, none of them were what you'd call cute. More like dripping with hotness and masculinity. No wonder my panties were about to combust.

"There are some bases the government hides, hon. They don't want civvies to know all their secrets."

I was intrigued by the idea of an underground base, or whatever it was. I assumed it had to be underground, but maybe it was simply masquerading as something more mundane. I was trying to figure that out, wondering where it could be located.

"Can I come with you?" The words escaped my mouth before I could call them back, and I waited for a wave of regret that never came.

I'd known in my heart I was going to have to leave my home, probably sooner rather than later, and permanently, so if I had to, it was sensible to do so now in the company of soldiers who might be able to help me stay alive long enough to learn how to keep myself that way. I anxiously awaited an answer as I stared at the captain, who was clearly the one in charge, though I was certain any formal military organization had fallen apart months ago, along with the rest of the government.

# Chapter Three

He barely hesitated before he nodded. "You can, but you'll need to carry your own weight. I don't want to offend you, Ms. Nolan, but we don't have time to babysit a teenager. You're going to have to grow up pretty quickly, which is unfair, but that's life now. If you're prepared to toughen up and look after yourself, to be a functioning part of our team, you're welcome to join us."

For a moment, I racked my brain as I tried to think of what I could do to help out the team. The only answer that came to me made my face turn ten shades of scarlet, and I had the strangest feeling he knew what I was thinking as his lips twitched, though his expression remained impassive.

Though I could probably barter myself for their protection, I decided not to make the offer. It was too crass to verbalize, and did I really want to go through with being the equivalent of a camp follower to a group of soldiers in the apocalypse?

My nipples tightened against the white cotton bra, and I admitted to myself I did. Very much so. That didn't give me the courage to verbalize it, especially with all of them watching. Instead, I just nodded. "I'll do my best, and I'd like to learn how to take care of myself. Right now, I'd either be raped or dead, perhaps both, if you hadn't been here. I don't want to be in that situation again."

The captain's eyes gleamed his approval. "Good girl. Let's grab our stuff and haul ass back to the base."

The base was an underground fortress, and the only indication it was anything at all was a large building masquerading as a warehouse. That was the entrance to the base, and I was amazed when we drove onto a platform that whisked the Humvee we rode in down to the lower levels. Wesley drove off the platform, and Han hopped out to press a button that lifted it back into place above us. I heard it move smoothly upward before it closed with a clang.

I realized we were sealed in below the massive concrete and steel structure above us, and I expected a wave of claustrophobia to sweep over me. Instead, I just felt safe and let out a long breath. It was oddly reminiscent of my tiny hidey-hole in the subbasement, which had left me feeling safe after that motorcycle gang had gone through the neighborhood. This place had the same effect, though admittedly, it probably had something to do with the five men surrounding me, each of them oozing testosterone and sex appeal.

There I went, thinking about sex again. I couldn't seem to keep my mind off of it.

They stopped the Humvee in the middle of another concrete room, which held more equipment. There were some helicopters and even a couple of planes in this area, and I assumed the platform could take them up if needed. I didn't know if anyone here flew, and I figured they might want to avoid advertising their presence by taking out the planes. Sealed in down here, I couldn't imagine a group would be able to get in from the outside, but they probably didn't want to take any chances. It's what I would have done in their situation—and I was in their situation now.

I was with them. I hadn't been fully integrated into the group or accepted as one of them yet, but I'd already started to rely on these men as my companions, and I'd admit with a bit of weakness, my protectors. At least until I learned enough to protect myself.

I helped them unload the items from the Hummer, including the stuff I had scavenged from the store. We stacked our finds neatly against the cement wall, and Jamar seemed to have a system for sorting them.

This group had definitely had better luck, so maybe they'd had more experience. Mentally inventorying the things I saw, I was pleased they'd managed to procure a stash of drugs, including pain pills and antibiotics. I noted there were several cases of birth control pills. That might come in handy...for some reason.

After we unloaded, I was feeling hot and sweaty, and my arms ached from the unaccustomed exertion. The captain seemed to realize my predicament, because he put a hand on my shoulder. "Would you like a shower?"

My eyes gleamed. "You mean a shower? A real freaking shower, with water pouring out the showerhead and everything? Not a pan bath?"

He laughed. "Not a pan bath. The base is equipped with solar collectors to fuel the backup generators, so there's even hot water. There's also a system of boilers and cisterns we're looking into implementing if we decide to stay here. It's a secure location, but not exactly ideal for growing food."

I let the survival talk flow over me for a minute as I fixated on the idea of a shower. I hadn't had a real one since the water had gone off about a month after my parents had died. We'd lost the power almost three months ago, and the gas had gone shortly after. They'd outlasted the water by several weeks, but hadn't done me any good for bathing, since the water didn't work. The idea of a hot shower was blissful.

I followed the captain down the hallway, my new possessions in my arms. He'd scooped up the other clothes I couldn't hold, along with my shoes, leading the way. First, we stopped in a bunk room, and he led me to one of the thin cots. "I'm afraid this will have to do. We might be able to rig up a private room in one of the offices and move a bunk in there, but this is all we have for tonight. You'll have to share with us."

The idea sent a delicious shiver down my spine, and I just nodded. I couldn't verbalize anything, because that might show exactly how much I liked the idea of sharing everything with these men.

I should have been slut-shaming myself for my reaction, but as I followed him into the shower room, I couldn't give a fuck about not conforming to the norm. In this new world, there was no one to care if I slept with all five of them at the same time. If someone made a judgment, they had the opportunity to go fuck themselves. They should be focusing on survival, not whose cock went in my pussy.

That was a blunt thought for me, since I rarely even said the word cock, and I'd never verbalized the "p" word before. It always made me blush when my girlfriends said it, or if I accidentally read it in a book—one of those naughty books my mom didn't know I was downloading. I knew all sorts of things from them, but none of it was practical experience, and I wasn't in the habit of slinging around crude words for my genitalia, let alone joining them with others' genitalia.

Trying to distract myself, I took the towel Shane held out for me. He had walked me into the shower room, and it hovered on the tip of my tongue to invite him to join me. Instead, I just stared at him quietly.

He shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. "Better show you the shower mechanism. It's complete military issue, so it can be kind of buggy." He pulled on the lever, cranking it one way and then the other a little bit, as though priming it before pushing it back in and spinning it.

A moment later, hot water flowed from the showerhead, and I put my hand in the stream, mesmerized. I turned to thank him as he brushed past me, moving out of the way of the faucet, and somehow I ended up plastered against his chest. Maybe it was an accident, or maybe it was a deliberate move on my part, prompted by my subconscious. I'm not sure which, but I liked to pretend I slipped in the shower and landed in his arms.

# Chapter Four

His arms wrapped around me, ensuring I was steady before he started to pull away. Acting on instinct, I draped my arms around him, hugging the man closer to me. It felt so good to have arms around me, but I was convinced not just any pair of arms would do. After all, I hadn't reacted well to the surprise human contact from the piece of shit who'd tried to rape me. Just something about this man—all these men—drew me to them. I didn't think it was only loneliness prompting my actions when I lifted my head, stretching on my tiptoes to brush my lips against his.

Shane stiffened, and though he moaned as my tongue brushed his lips, he eased back carefully.

I looked down, embarrassed by my actions and his rejection. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have done that."

He shook his head. "The world's changed, but there are still some rules I intend to follow. You're jailbait, honey."

I frowned up at him. "How old do you think I am?"

He shrugged. "Fifteen? Maybe sixteen?"

I started to get huffy, but then I admitted to myself it was a fair assessment. I didn't really look that young so much as I was short, and he probably didn't spend a lot of time with women in my age group. "I'm eighteen, and I'll be nineteen in seven or eight days. I'm not sure which. I hadn't started marking the calendar until after Becky died, so I just took my best guess at the number of days that had passed."

He looked skeptical. "Do you have identification?"

I think he meant it as a smartass retort, but in fact I did have identification. I marched over to my backpack that I had dropped on the floor when we entered the shower room and fumbled through it for my wallet. I'd stowed it in there without much thought when I'd gone foraging, and I was glad to have it now as I stood up and walked over to him, extending my driver's license, followed by my college ID card. I'd gotten the card a few weeks before I'd been due to start spring term, having graduated a semester early because I was intelligent and liked school. I never got to go, but the card could only support my case. "See? I'm almost nineteen."

He handed the identification back to me, and I tossed it carelessly toward my bag. What did it matter any longer? Except under circumstances like these, I was unlikely to need to show my ID to anyone anywhere anymore.

I crossed my arms over my chest as I stared at him. "Well?"

I could see he was tempted, and he nibbled on his lower lip before shaking his head. "How old do you think I am, honey?"

"Thirty-five?" I ventured a guess.

He seemed impressed. "Thirty-six, but close enough. You see the age difference there? Doesn't that bother you?"

I was surprised by my own temerity as I started stripping off my T-shirt, breaking eye contact with him only long enough to pull it over my head. "Not really. What bothers me is having been without any sort of human contact for months, and what's really bothering me is how much I want to fuck you. My pussy is wet. Wanna feel for yourself, Shane?" As I asked the question, his eyes dilated, and I shimmied out of my jeans.

He didn't move away when I stepped closer, taking his hand and moving it between my thighs, now completely bared to his perusal since I'd removed my jeans, panties, socks, and shoes. He let out a small hissing moan when I took one of his fingers and plowed it between my curls, showing him all the damp flesh awaiting him. I don't know where my boldness came from, but I was determined not to let him escape until he'd been inside me.

What else was there to live for besides pleasure at this point? I had lost everyone I'd ever loved or cared about, and though I didn't want to go through losing more people, I also didn't want to be alone. It wasn't like I was offering my pussy up as some great sacrifice in a desperate bid to keep the man near me. I just wanted him, and I knew he wanted me. In this new world, there was absolutely no reason why we couldn't have each other. "Is that wet enough for you?"

His chest rumbled, brushing against my nipples pressing through the bra I still wore when he growled a low, "No." His finger surged inside me, mine no longer leading him as he began to stroke me in earnest, rubbing the sweet spot below my clit. "I want you soaking wet, your juices flowing in my mouth as you sit on my face while I lick you. Do you want that, Alyssa, or do you want to change your mind? This is your last chance. Tell me to leave, and I will. Tell me to do the right thing, because I'm not strong enough to do it on my own."

I was almost too busy riding his hand to manage to speak, but I knew I had to say something, or he'd leave me. "This is the right thing." I put my hands on his cheeks and stretched upright again as his head lowered, our lips meeting in a passionate kiss while his fingers continued delving inside me, exploring my slick folds.

With his other hand, he unhooked the new bra, seemingly without effort, and pushed it up over my breasts. One of his hands cupped a soft globe, his fingers tugging lightly on my nipple. I pressed harder against his hands, both the one in my pussy and the one against my breasts as I moaned, wanting to feel everything.

He pulled away from me abruptly, and I stared at him with hurt eyes, certain he had talked himself out of what we both wanted. Instead, he was just slipping off his T-shirt and camo pants, though the dog tags remained. It didn't seem to take him long to be as naked as me, and I took advantage of the fact there was a break to throw my bra carelessly in the direction of my clothes.

Some of my bravery had faded in the face of his sexual hunger, visible by the intense look in his eyes. I was a little daunted by the size of his dick too, swelling and pointing in my direction with obvious want. I still wanted him, but I was a little afraid of what I was getting.

There was no chance for second-guessing myself, because he picked me up in his arms and turned to the shower. A moment later, warm water rained down on us, and I cuddled closer. It felt good to be under the water, and it felt even better when his finger returned to stroking my clit, bringing me to the edge again and flooding his hand with my juices when I suddenly came with a small cry. I tried to stifle the sound of pleasure, not wanting the others to know what we were doing in here if they hadn't already figured it out, but then I decided I didn't give a fuck if they knew either. Since I would have taken any of them who wanted to enter the shower, it would have been hypocritical to be concerned if they knew I was fucking their leader.

He pressed my back against the wall, parting my thighs as my sheath continued to convulse with my release. I was moaning and I think crying out his name, punctuated by gasps of pleasure, but I wasn't entirely certain. I could have been babbling like a moron, so lost was I in my pleasure.

The head of his cock pressed against me, nudging open my pussy and clearing the way for the rest of the shaft. He started to sink into me, and I tensed in reaction, expecting brief agony. Instead, it was barely a discomfort as he pushed inside me the rest of the way. I must've been exceedingly wet, because he encountered little resistance, and there wasn't much pain at all.

He froze, his eyes widening with comprehension as he stared down at me. From my vantage point pressed against the wall, his hands cupping my ass to keep me against him, he didn't have to stare far. "Are you a fucking virgin?"

I shrugged. "What does it matter? None of that stuff matters now, does it?"

He hesitated for a moment, looking torn.

I knew I had to reconnect with him, and quickly, if I wanted this to last. I put my hand on his cheek, coaxing his gaze to meet mine. "I was a virgin, but I'm not now. Even if you pull out right this minute and don't finish, leaving us both frustrated, I'm still not going to be a virgin any longer. So follow through and finish what you started, soldier."

His eyes widened with surprise, and he began to thrust in and out of me, moving slowly at first until he was certain I wasn't feeling any discomfort. It was obvious in the tender way he moved and held me that he was making my pleasure top priority.

I pushed forward with my hips, meeting him every time he thrust deeper into me. On one level, I couldn't believe I had gone from a virgin to craving cock so quickly, but the world had changed. It no longer mattered who we paired up with, as long as there were moments of happiness to steal. We had survived the Hell Virus, but for what if we weren't going to live? I meant truly live, and that included enjoying the pleasures available in caring for the people we were with, though it gave us something to lose.

Shane pressed harder into me, sending me over the edge as his cock started to twitch inside me, and he came, loosening his release in several rapid spurts that hit against my cervix and enhanced my orgasm as I came again. I'd expected my first time having sex to be kind of pathetic and dreadful, judging from my girlfriends' experiences, but this was anything except that.

I clung to Shane as the orgasms faded and aftermath settled over us. He was leaning heavily against the wall, still supporting me, and I leaned forward to place my lips against his neck, nibbling slightly before placing a kiss there. Just like when the Hell Virus had popped up, and when the second wave had hit, things had changed once again. This time, I was optimistic it was a positive change, though we still had to survive in this post-apocalyptic hellhole.

I wasn't sure what to expect after our time in the shower, whether Shane would treat me with affection and make it obvious we'd fucked, or if he would ignore me, or keep it somewhere in between. It was in-between, as I discovered when I sat down to join my new comrades for dinner, which happened to be MREs. He sat beside me, and occasionally his hand would migrate under the table and onto my thigh, rubbing gently, but that was the only indication we'd shared anything in the shower—aside from the fact we both had wet hair.

I looked up and caught Wesley's gaze, his knowing smirk sending a pang through my stomach. I wasn't embarrassed, or even upset, that he had figured it out. Well, maybe a little embarrassed. I hadn't done anything wrong with the captain, but lingering beliefs instilled in me for eighteen years would take longer than one day and some passionate sex to completely fade away.

There was a part of me that was supposed to feel ashamed for my sexuality, and for indulging in meaningless sex, and that was the part that squirmed under his gaze, though the new post-apocalyptic Alyssa really didn't care who knew. That side of me would have stripped off my clothes and taken Shane again right there. Or any of the others.

Feeling a bit like a sex-starved pervert, I looked away from Wesley and turned my attention to Han, who sat across from me and to the left. I realized he was talking about a run, and I frowned when it penetrated he was speaking about going out again tomorrow. "Why do you need to do that? You got a lot of stuff today."

"We need to scavenge as many supplies as we can, Alyssa. We're in a race against all the other survivors around the area, so we have to go out every day."

I shuddered at the thought of going out again already, but nodded. "I'll do whatever you tell me."

His eyes darkened, and his pupils dilated. I hadn't intended it to come out any other way than as agreeable, but apparently there had been huskiness in my tone, or maybe he was just letting his imagination run free. Whatever it was, I was certain he was suddenly thinking about sex. Sex with me, and in whatever form he liked. I had a starring role in his mini-fantasy, and that Alyssa was doing whatever he said. I knew that's what he was thinking on an instinctive level, but I wasn't at all offended. I wasn't sure about the submitting part, but the idea of being at Han's command made my newest pair of underwear damp, and my nipples hardened against the cotton tank top, sans bra.

"You're not going," said Shane with an air of finality.

I turned to look at him with a frown. "You told me I had to be part of the team."

He nodded. "You do, but I need you to be a fully functioning part of the team. Until you know how to handle yourself, I don't want you going out on runs. In fact, Jamar, I'd like you to stay behind tomorrow and start training Alyssa. Go with the guns first, and then we'll have Han run her through hand-to-hand combat a bit later." He looked me over in an assessing way, though he'd already seen my body in the shower. "You're going to need to get in better shape too."

I flinched. I wasn't super skinny, but I didn't think I was excessively overweight either. I had definitely lost at least ten pounds in the last few months from stress and relying on the rations in the subbasement. I felt self-conscious and crossed my arms over my chest.

His expression gentled, and he put a hand on my shoulder, his fingers lightly brushing the back of my neck. "That wasn't a criticism of your body in any fashion. You just need to be able to run and have the stamina to protect yourself. Martial arts and hand-to-hand combat takes a lot out of you, and there's nothing wrong with not being ready to jump into those things. You're going to have to prepare yourself. That's all I meant."

I nodded, feeling better as his words washed over me. I felt kind of silly to have overreacted, since I'd always been relatively secure with my body. I knew he was right though. Mrs. Fleming would have agreed with him in a heartbeat. Dammit. All the things I had never enjoyed, like lifting weights and running, were now an essential part of surviving this new world.

Things had truly gone to hell, I decided, as Han spoke to me about a new training regimen, promising to wake me early the next morning to get started. I gave him a smile and a less-than-enthusiastic, "Oh, goody." He grinned, which was infectious, and I found myself grinning back. If I had to get in shape and be miserable, at least I'd be surrounded by five examples of male perfection. It was an inspiring thought.

Despite my newfound sex goddess side, it was a little daunting to slip into my lonely bunk that evening, knowing there were five men in the room with me. I wasn't afraid of any of them forcing me to do something I didn't want to do, but it was definitely awkward. My dorm had been slated to be coed, but our floors had still been separated by gender, and I'd never made it to the university. I'd gone to camp a few summers as a child, but that had all been at same-gender dorms as well.

This was my first time sleeping with multiple men. I stifled a giggle at the thought, and then continued to bite my lip to hold back a moan as I imagined all five of them stripping off and doing more than sleeping with me. It was a fantasy; one I was certain could never be reality. How could it be? People didn't have those kinds of relationships, even in this brave new world that opened possibilities never considered before.

Did they?

It might be just fantasy, but my mind was able to conjure up plenty of images to match, and I was soon soaking wet and longing for Shane, who'd wanted me to sit on his face while he licked me, though we hadn't done that in the shower. Yet.

My pussy throbbed with need, and I tried to discreetly slip my hands into my panties and shorts, just cupping my mound and hoping it would soothe the need burning there. When that didn't help, I squeezed tightly and almost moaned again when pulses of pleasure shot through me. I was going to have to get off, or I'd never get to sleep.

With a small sigh, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the restroom, which was before the shower room. There were no doors on the stalls, but at least partitions separated them, so I stepped inside the first one, propped one foot on the seat, and slid down my shorts and underwear to mid-thigh so I could touch myself.

I started circling my clit to the erotic images in my head, opening with Shane and remembering what we had done earlier. Before I knew it, my brain had added others to the mix. Shane was sliding into me, my pussy clinging to him in a needy fashion. Jamar was behind me, rubbing his erection up and down the crack of my ass, his pre-cum easing his way. There were two hands on my breasts, but they belonged to different men. I didn't bother to distinguish their identities in the fantasy. I just closed my eyes and went with it as I touched myself.

A sound caught my attention, and my eyes popped open. I was startled to find Maddox standing a few feet from me, his eyes on my hands, and his expression one of need. I hadn't had much interaction with him, and I don't think we'd exchanged even two syllables of conversation, but he was beautiful. With his blond hair and chiseled chest, displayed to full advantage by his skintight green tank top, he was mouthwatering. just knowing he was staring at me made me even hotter.

He didn't make any attempt to close the distance between us. He just slipped down his boxers and pulled out his cock. He was thick, though not as long as Shane, but there was nothing wrong with his penis. It was perfectly shaped and proportioned, and my mouth watered as he started to stroke himself.

Our gazes locked as we masturbated for each other, exchanging heated fantasies without saying a word. I bit my lip as I started to come, trying to keep in sounds of pleasure, but not entirely successful. My juices spilled down and flowed over my fingers, and his gaze was hungry as he stroked his cock even harder. He seemed to almost be punishing it for its desire, and I couldn't believe how rough he was as he tugged himself, sliding his palm up and down the smooth, uncircumcised shaft. I thought about closing the distance between us, but I didn't want to miss the moment when he came.

With a harsh grunt, it happened quickly. Spurts of cum shot onto the floor as he slowly milked himself before dropping his hand away. His cock was semi-flaccid for a moment before it started to soften, and he tucked it back into his boxers as though nothing had happened.

Taking my cue from him, I straightened my shorts and panties, slipping from the stall and walking over to wash my hands. Our arms brushed, but that was the only contact between us, aside from a shared look of mutual satisfaction as I moved to the door. It had been arousing as hell to masturbate for him, though he was practically a stranger. I should have been embarrassed by my display, I guess, but I wasn't. I was still too sated to worry about unwanted emotions like guilt or remorse.

I returned to the bunk room and slid into bed, my pussy still wet with my release. I wished I'd had an opportunity to clean up, but it would have broken the spell of the moment to introduce practicalities. Fortunately, my day of unaccustomed activities, from supply runs to shower sex, had left me worn out, and the second I closed my eyes, I was able to sleep.

# Chapter Five

As promised, Han woke me up early the next morning and led me to an indoor track. He waved to another room across the hall. "That's the weight room, and you should familiarize yourself with the machines. I'll help you figure out a workout routine."

"Yay." I wore my tennis shoes from yesterday, relieved to have something comfortable and familiar on my feet as we started to run. I wasn't a complete couch potato or totally hopeless, so I kept up with him for at least the first lap before I started lagging.

By the time we'd gone around three times, I was starting to feel a burn in my legs and a tickle in my chest. I didn't know how far we'd technically run, but the indoor track was about as big as the one at my old high school, and Mrs. Fleming had always made us run it four times to equal one mile. I hadn't even run a mile yet and was already starting to feel worn out and a little nauseated.

"Keep it up there, baby. You can do it." He punctuated the encouragement with a slap to my ass as he passed by.

I assumed it was a sign of soldierly camaraderie, like the baseball players who hit each other on the butts, but it still started a tingle deep inside, and I tried to suppress the familiar sensation of desire washing over me. Now wasn't the time, and I wasn't entirely sure if I should even be thinking naughty thoughts about any of these men except Shane.

Were we involved in some way now? Or were we just postapocalyptic fuck buddies? I'd have to talk to him, but my instinct was somewhere in between. I thought there was more to it than just two people wanting to get off, but that didn't mean we were in love, ready to exchange vows, and buy a house in the suburbs. Or rather, take over a house in the suburbs and burn all the dead bodies inside, which was a far more likely scenario that made me flinch.

Han coaxed three more laps from me before I was practically dragging my butt across the floor, a heaving, sweaty mess. "Please have mercy," I begged as he ran by me for at least the eighth time. He kept passing me. He was like a machine with incredible stamina, and I abruptly wondered how that would translate to the bedroom. He seemed like he could go all night, and I wasn't certain I could keep up with that.

The idea of having to give up before all his energy ran out actually spurred me to increase my pace and cover another half-lap before I moved over to the wall and collapsed against it, sliding down until my butt was on the cement. "I can't do anymore."

He grinned as he stood over me, seeming to enjoy my suffering, though not in a malicious way. I was clearly just amusing him.

He'd had the forethought to bring a bottle of water, and I watched, mesmerized, as he drank deeply. His throat constricted, and his Adam's apple bobbed with each long swallow. He'd stripped off his shirt at some point during his run, and I could see small rivulets of sweat moving down his golden-brown skin, with its faint undertone of bronze. He was like some kind of Aztec God, and it sent pulses of needs through me.

Han handed me the bottle that he had drunk half of in one go, and I took it. I deliberately brushed my fingers against his, and a spark of electricity shot up my arm. I usually found it disgusting to drink after other people, but as I lifted the bottle to my lips, it only felt sexy and right instead of grossing me out. I swallowed quickly, draining the other half of the bottle. When I set it aside a moment later, our eyes met, and there was definite heat in his. I was sure it reflected in my blue orbs as well.

He licked his lips slowly. "So you're a swallower?"

Despite my newfound sexual liberty, I still blushed faintly as I caught the double meaning in his words. I shrugged. "I guess you'll have to find out." I wasn't sure myself, never actually having gone down on anyone before. I'd given Jeremy a couple of pity hand jobs, but that was the sum total of my sexual experience before yesterday. I was intrigued by the idea, but had no idea if I'd actually be able to swallow a load of cum as it hit the back of my throat, or if I would gag and gasp, spitting it out involuntarily.

He held out a hand, not accepting the invitation, though heat still burned between us. I took it, and he lifted me to my feet seemingly without any effort at all. I was really sore and aching, but not entirely from our morning jog. Yesterday with Shane had left some lingering discomfort when I stretched the wrong way.

It was going to be a long day, and I still had shooting practice with Jamar. A shiver of anticipation rolled through me as I parted from Han, making a quick detour to grab fresh clothes and take a quick shower. I didn't spend too long lingering, because I figured others were waiting for the shower room, but the men were being respectful and allowing me to have it to myself. Damn their thoughtfulness. I wouldn't have minded watching the five of them strip off and shower, lathering their hard bodies before washing away the bubbles with streams of hot water.

I quickly shut down the thought, knowing I didn't have time to indulge in fantasizing while fingering myself at the moment. I finished quickly and left the room, joining them in the room I'd heard Maddox call the mess hall.

I was surprised to find it was just Jamar waiting for me. "Where're the others?"

"They took off about ten minutes ago, Miss Nolan."

I nodded, knowing it was ridiculous to feel slighted that they hadn't waited until I was out of the shower to say goodbye. They had a dangerous task before them, and the sooner they started, the sooner they'd be back. It wasn't like they were my friends going on a road trip without me. They were risking their lives, and the only reason I was here with Jamar, safely ensconced in the base, was because I didn't have the necessary skills yet to go along and act in a supportive role.

"Call me Alyssa," I said as I dug into my breakfast, consisting of powdered eggs and some kind of meat that vaguely resembled sausage links. I thought it might have been TVP. It wasn't very good, but I wasn't going to waste it. Food was too precious of a resource now to be terribly picky. I laughed softly at the thought.

"Care to share?" asked Jamar as he finished his mug of coffee.

I looked up from the eggs. "I was thinking about my little brother. He died in the first wave, but if he hadn't, he would have been miserable with the food available now. He wasn't fond of vegetables and would only eat raw carrots. I haven't seen a raw carrot since I managed to kill the garden. I dunno. I was just thinking about him, I guess."

He nodded. "My sister Tamika was the same way, but we all kind of spoiled her. Mom and Dad made me and my brothers eat our vegetables, do our chores, and toe the line, but Tamika was indulged a bit more."

"Was she the baby of the family?" I guessed.

Jamar nodded his gleaming bald head, shaved smooth of any hair. "Yep, and the only girl out of five kids, so no wonder she was spoiled by all of us."

I was certain I already knew the answer, but I asked gently, "Did she...?"

He nodded. "I lost them all in the first wave."

I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. There was nothing sexually inviting about it. It was simply a gesture of comfort, and when he squeezed my hand in return, I experienced the same sense of compassion and warmth as we shared our unpleasant memories for a moment.

He cleared his throat and finished putting silverware neatly on his tray. "I've got cleanup duty, and then we'll hit the gun range. Finish your breakfast and bring your dishes into the kitchen when you're done please."

I nodded and watched him walk away for a moment before turning my attention to the meal in front of me. I found it easier to swallow the semi-tasteless food if I shoveled it in quickly and didn't think too much about what I was eating or try to analyze the flavor. I missed my mom's extensive collection of spices, and I wished I had a tenth of her knowledge on how to use them. She'd been an amazing cook, but I was barely adequate. I wasn't sure how I could cook now with all the prepackaged foods and a lack of fresh ingredients anyway, so I guess it didn't matter if I was a culinary master.

After finishing, I took my dishes into the kitchen as requested, my lips twitching with amusement when I saw the big black man wrapped up in the small white apron that was a little undersized for his frame. He was cleaning the kitchen, and all the dishes were stacked neatly in a draining tray. I walked over to the hot water, setting my dishes inside and reaching for the sponge. I cleaned them quickly and placed them beside the others before turning to face him. "I guess I'm ready to shoot."

He nodded. "Let's see what you can do, sugar."

I shouldn't have been surprised to find a full gun range in the military base, but I guess I was. Maybe I was just surprised by the size of it. There were ten separate stalls for shooting, and the targets could be extended up to a half-mile away. I wondered how large this underground base was, making a mental note to ask one of the soldiers if there was a map available. I didn't want to get lost in my new home.

After setting me up with earmuffs, Jamar stood behind me, handing me a pistol. I'd never fired a handgun before and took it a little hesitantly.

"Don't be afraid of the gun, because it won't hurt you. Not if you respect it and obey the rules. I'm going to assume you know the basic rules of gun safety?"

I nodded, which caused the earmuffs tucked above my ears like a headband while we spoke to wobble slightly. It was annoying, but not annoying enough to lift my hands and reposition them. "I'm pretty comfortable with the basics, but have never shot a handgun. My parents only had a couple of rifles and a shotgun, since they didn't want to be on a government registry for owning a handgun. That was how Blackwater knew to collect the guns after Hurricane Katrina hit, so they decided to play it safe with unregistered weapons." I reeled off the info I'd heard repeated multiple times, though that had all happened when I was a little kid, and I didn't really know much about Hurricane Katrina or the gun seizures.

Jamar snorted softly. "Sugar, if they bought it with a debit card or credit card, the government could have found them just as easily. They probably have ways of tracking all gun purchases, even ammo, anyway." His expression darkened slightly. "Or they did have ways before ninety percent of the people died."

I nodded, trying to suppress a wave of melancholy washing over me. Instead, I took a shooter's stance, holding my arms in front of me with the gun extended.

He stepped up behind me, his large frame engulfing mine. The hard planes of his abdominal muscles pressed into my back, and I leaned closer against his chest without thinking about it as his arms came around me. I was disappointed when he simply adjusted my hold, taking a moment to lock my elbows before his hands slid down my sides.

I shivered and barely bit back a moan as he cupped my hips, turning me just a little bit so that I was straight. As he knelt down to adjust my stance, widening my feet a bit more and positioning my knees, I remembered my fantasy from last night, and my hands trembled slightly as I struggled to suppress any reaction to his proximity. It was clear gun practice was going to cost me another pair of panties. I definitely had to be on the lookout for a fresh supply when I started doing runs with them.

When he was satisfied with my stance, he showed me how to take off the safety before running through some simple instructions. After that, he snugged the earmuffs over my ears, and I fired a handgun for the first time. It felt weird and jerky, but it didn't have as much recoil as I recalled from the rifle or shotgun. He adjusted my stance again before letting me shoot another time, but by the fourth shot, I was automatically readjusting my stance myself.

He put up a hand in front of my eyes to get my attention, and I lay down the gun carefully, turning my head to look at him. He removed my earmuffs for me.

"You're doing well, but don't forget to breathe and exhale as you squeeze the trigger."

I nodded and returned to firing the gun, which he had identified as a Desert Eagle. That didn't tell me much, but it was a compact gun, perfect for my smaller hands. When he'd lifted the handgun out of the safe where they kept them, it had seemed like a toy pistol in his larger palm.

I focused solely on shooting as I went through a hundred rounds. Before starting, he'd assured me there were enough bullets in stock for me to waste a few hundred learning how to shoot. I guess that made sense, since we were on a military base. With any luck, they'd been fully restocked right before the world had gone to hell.

When he brought in my latest target, I squealed with excitement, though it was a completely unflattering sound. I'd done much better than expected. I had three shots clustered in the dead center of the bullseye on the chest, and I'd also managed a headshot. I hadn't actually been aiming for the head of the target at any point, but it still seemed like a victory, and I turned to him in my enthusiasm, bouncing lightly on my feet as I threw myself into his arms. "That was amazing. Thank you.

He stiffened before his arms came around me. "I think you're pretty amazing too. Those are some good shots, for an amateur."

I rolled my eyes. "Those are good shots for anyone."

His lips twitched as he looked down at me. "Yeah, five shots out of a hundred. Those are good odds."

I smacked his chest lightly, realizing I was still plastered against him. I made no effort to move away, and he didn't either. "I think I have a natural talent."

His voice deepened, rumbling through my body when he spoke. "I have no doubt you're talented at many things, Lyss."

I hadn't heard the nickname in a long time, not since my best friend had moved away in eighth grade, but it sounded perfect on his lips. Those soft, full, highly kissable lips. My gaze focused on the anatomy in question, and I licked my lips as hunger spread through me.

"It's been a long time since I held a woman. I should let you go."

I shook my head. "I don't want to be let go."

He tipped his head slightly. "Aren't you and Shane together?"

I shrugged. "We were yesterday, but we didn't exchange vows or promise monogamy. I think we're all just trying to get through, and moments like these make the really sucky ones better."

"I can't argue with that." He lifted me into his arms, his hands cupping my ass before he set me on the platform beside the loaded gun. I'd flicked on the safety, so I knew we weren't going to get shot during our impromptu passionate moment, but it still made me nervous to have it right there.

As though sensing that, he stepped away from me, taking the gun and putting it back in the safe. As he returned, he stripped off his khaki-green tank top, leaving him in just his dog tags, pants, and boots.

His chest was as perfect as I'd imagined, his gleaming skin such a contrast to my paler shade when I put my hand on his chest, lightly raking my nails over his nipple as he hissed in pleasure.

"You look good enough to eat."

I blushed at the compliment, returning it with a saucy wink. "So do you."

He didn't stop me as I slid off the platform, dropping to my knees in one smooth motion as I did so. I moved with an innate grace I hadn't known I was capable of as I reached up to undo his pants, sliding the camouflage down his legs until his cock sprang free. I swallowed, slightly intimidated by the size, but determined to follow through.

I grasped his thick shaft in one hand and guided it to my lips, opening my mouth slowly to take him inside. It wasn't just to prolong his pleasure. I had a difficult time fitting him completely in my mouth. Once he was inside, I sucked in my cheeks and began to bob my head, running my tongue around all the spots it could reach. I had no idea what I was doing, but it wasn't exactly brain surgery. Insert cock and suck. Those seem like pretty straightforward instructions, and that's what I did.

He put a large hand on my head, his fingers plowing through my black strands to hold me against him. It wasn't a punishing or intimidating hold, and I could have broken free if I'd wanted. I just had no desire to do so as I continue to lavish attention on his thick erection.

He thrust gently in and out of my mouth, moving with the pace I set. His pre-cum leaked continuously onto my tongue, flowing gently down my throat. I was certain when he came, it would be a lot more forceful, and there'd be copious amounts rather than this steady trickle. As his cock started to twitch, I braced myself for a torrent of cum that never came.

Instead, Jamar bent down and lifted me to my feet, putting me on the platform once more. I gripped each side of the stall to maintain my balance as he spread my thighs apart, pushing my knees almost to my chest to open me up fully before bending his head. The first swirl of his tongue around my clit made me moan, and it escalated to a sob when he started sucking lightly on the taut bud. His tongue delved lower, smoothing down my slit before stabbing inside the opening in a rapid pace.

It only made me want more, and I arched my hips as I rode his face, suddenly appreciating his smooth head. I'd wondered what he would look like with hair, and I was glad he kept his pate smooth and clean-shaven. It was an interesting sensation to feel soft skin against my thighs as his mouth pleasured me.

He didn't stop until I'd come, my sheath contracting around his tongue as pulses of pleasure shot through me, making me jerk in reaction. I whimpered at the intensity, unable to speak for a moment before he lined himself up, his cock pressing against my opening.

Since I'd been a virgin until yesterday, I was still tight, and it was vaguely uncomfortable, just like it had been when Shane entered me the day before. My body soon relaxed and adjusted, stretching around him, but still clinging like a needy girlfriend.

Our gazes locked as he began to thrust in and out of me, and the tenderness in his eyes blew me away. I was clearly the sole focus of his attention, and my enjoyment was paramount. That alone was enough to send me closer to orgasm, but when combined with the way he rolled his hips as he pressed into me, which rubbed against my g-spot, it was enough to send me flying over the edge quicker than I'd anticipated.

Jamar followed me, his shaft twitching inside me before his seed filled me. I made a mental note to start birth control pills that day, because the last thing I wanted was an unplanned pregnancy in the middle of the apocalypse, especially when there could be two possible fathers. Maybe that should have shamed me, but it didn't. I kind of liked the idea of having either one of their babies, but I was far too young to consider that at the moment. It was an abstract concept, but I would have been proud to be the mother of either Shane or Jamar's baby. Someday.

When it was over, he helped me down and carried me into the shower room. We washed off quickly, expecting the group to be back any moment. Shane and I hadn't declared any intentions or requested monogamy, but I didn't want him to find out I'd been fucking Jamar this way. I had every intention of telling him, but I didn't want him to walk in on us and get weirded out or upset before we had a chance to talk.

We'd gotten dressed and were playing a game of chess when the lift hummed to indicate the Humvee was returning. I slid from my chair at the table and walked quickly beside Jamar, having to take two steps for each one of his, since his legs were much longer than mine. I was a little breathless by the time we reached the main room, but I forgot about my reaction to the exercise when the doors opened, and the four of them spilled out with a frantic air.

I quickly realized why. Maddox was bleeding from his chest and stomach, and there was so much blood. He was pale, and all I could remember were his cheeks and flesh last night when he'd masturbated before me, filling with color as he'd come. He didn't even look like the same person, he was so pallid and limp. "What happened?" I asked a second before Jamar uttered the same question.

Shane didn't look up at us as he kept applying pressure to the wound. "We had a run-in with a nasty group, and they were well armed. Maddox got caught in the crossfire."

They had eased him down to the cement floor, and I was horrified by the blood spreading around him. I knew every time I saw that stain, I'd think of this moment, and it sent a shudder through me. "Is there some way I can help?"

Shane looked up. "Do you have any medical training?"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry. I took a first-aid unit in high school, since it was a required part of health class, and I did after-school reception for a friend of my father's, but he was a dentist, and I never had any medical training. Not even terminology." I was babbling, and I quickly shut off the words spilling from my mouth. Basically, I was as useless in this situation as I'd been against the rapist yesterday.

At first, I wondered why they made no move to move to transport him to the infirmary. Surely, a base this big must have one, and it seemed ridiculous to leave him lying on the cement.

From his harsh breathing, which escalated rapidly, I soon discerned there was no point in moving into the infirmary. It was obvious in the set of their shoulders and the body language around me that none of the men expected Maddox to make it.

Acting on instinct, I got on my knees on the floor and took his hand. His eyes fluttered open for a moment as I ran my thumb gently across the back of his hand. "How are you doing?" When he tried to answer, blood bubbled from his lips, and I tried not to flinch at the sight.

"Could have been amazing." His words might have referred to how his state of health could have been if he hadn't been shot, but I was oddly certain he was talking about our missed opportunity last night. We could have connected then, and though it would have made it even harder to lose him, I regretted that I hadn't seized the opening. I wouldn't make that mistake again, I vowed, as his hand went slack in mine, and his eyes closed a few seconds later.

One moment, he was alive, and the next he was gone. I'd seen more death, witnessed more direct dying, than anyone my age should ever have to. Hell, no one anyone's age should have to suffer the losses I'd endured, and I was certain the four man around me felt the same way. As soldiers, they'd probably seen far worse than I had while deployed to war zones, but this loss seemed to affect them all on a deep level.

I was touched as the four of them formed a semi-circle around their fallen comrade, joining their hands and bowing their head in a silent gesture of respect and loss for their fallen brother.

Sitting there on the floor, not quite brave enough to stand up and join them in their circle of loss, I vowed to do everything in my power to make sure I didn't lose any of the four remaining. It would be an empty promise to myself unless I learned how to back it up, and I was determined to throw myself into training and get ready to survive this harsh new world on my own, if I ever had to. I didn't want to be alone, so that meant keeping my men alive. They would watch out for me, and I was equally determined to have their backs.

# Chapter Six

We buried Maddox aboveground, taking the platform up and walking out of the empty warehouse to the lot surrounding it. The men took turns digging, rebuffing my offer to help. I didn't think it was just macho bullshit. They had known Maddox far better than I had, and perhaps each needed to feel they were contributing to creating his final resting place. It was a tribute to the young man who'd fallen, and in this shitty world, it was all they could do.

After Shane had taken his turn, he joined me on what was left of the dried brown grass, dropping down and taking the bottle of water I handed him with a grateful nod. He swallowed half with his first gulp before putting the lid on and wiping his arm across his sweaty brow. I put a hand on his leg, offering silent comfort, as I asked, "Who did this?"

"A bunch of assholes at that Costco in Cheyenne. We've been pushing out farther on our runs, trying to strip everything we can as quickly as possible, and that means going back into the larger cities." He shuddered. "They're disgusting. Full of rotting bodies and probably more diseases than we know how to pronounce. We've been wearing masks when we go in, but it's still an unpleasant place to visit." He laughed sharply. "Unpleasant." He shook his head, clearly bemused about his own choice of words.

"What happened?"

Shane turned the bottle of water in his hands, his gaze locked on it as though it held all the answers of the universe. "We figured there might be people there, since it's a logical place to hole up if you're going to be dumb enough to stay in the cities. We approached with caution and certainly not with guns blazing. We drove into the parking lot, and Maddox stepped out to greet the people who were standing on the roof, clearly acting as guard. They didn't tell us to go away or anything. They just shot him."

I gasped. "How can they just shoot someone? He clearly wasn't a threat."

"Don't kid yourself, baby. Everyone can be a threat in this new world, but the attitude of shoot first, ask later isn't a practical solution if you're trying to rebuild society."

I leaned back, bracing my hands on my palms as I watched Han's muscles rhythmically flex while he deepened the hole. "Fuck society. I'd be content with just finding a safe place where we can survive. I would consider it a luxury if we're able to be happy again."

He put his arm around me, and I leaned against him. From the corner of my eye, I realized Wesley was watching, a look of hunger on his face. I smiled at him, but then turned my attention to Shane. It was nice to cuddle with someone, to feel a connection, no matter how brief.

Soon enough, the moment was shattered by the completion of the grave. They carefully lowered Maddox into it, and filling in was much faster than digging it had been. As we stood around the gravesite, I waited for someone to say something, but the silence lengthened. Hesitantly, I asked, "Should we pray or something?" My parents hadn't been churchgoers, so I didn't know any formal prayers. I certainly had no idea what one said at a funeral. I knew it had something to do with valleys and shadows, but I had never memorized the psalm.

Jamar shook his head, and his stark expression, filled with anger and loss, was the complete opposite of the beautiful look he'd worn earlier when he came inside me. That might as well have been a hundred years ago with the way everything had changed again so abruptly.

"As far as I know, Maddox didn't believe in much of anything spiritual. It's hard to believe in any divine power with the world going to Hell around us."

I nodded, falling silent along with the rest of them. At some point, they turned away from his grave and moved as one back toward the warehouse building. I went with them, looking back just once at the simple stone marker, reminding myself of what I'd decided earlier. I wasn't going to lose the rest of the group.

The group was mostly silent, other than an occasional word spoken, for the rest of the evening. A pall had fallen over the place, and even I felt it, though I had barely known Maddox. It was terrible losing someone you loved, but it was surprisingly hard to lose someone you barely knew when the world's population had shrunk so drastically in less than a year.

As I slipped into bed that evening, it seemed like a million years ago when I'd crept out of my bunk last night in search of relief from the desire surging through me. It was crazy to think Maddox had gone from our encounter last night to completely out of the world tonight. Twenty-four hours could change your life forever.

Not even twenty-four hours. Everything could change in seconds, especially in the world we lived in now. It was a depressing thought, and I definitely had no need to find a quiet place to masturbate tonight. Sex was the last thing on my mind. Instead, I kept imagining how it must have been for Maddox in his last few seconds. Had he realized they were going to kill him, or had it been a total shock? Obviously, he'd had no time to get back into the SUV. I hoped he'd gone quickly and without fear. A peaceful death was about all any of us could ask for these days.

Han didn't wake me the next morning for the anticipated torture session of exercise, but I dressed in clothes that would be comfortable for working out anyway. As much as I didn't want to, I forced myself to run a few laps before exploring the gym. There were machines I didn't recognize, and I had no clue how to use them, so I stuck with the basics that I remembered from high school gym class. Surprisingly, it felt good to work out, though I expected to be stiff and sore later.

Afterward, I stopped by the shower, discovering I had the room to myself, and took a quick one. My hair was tangled and matted, and it took the longest to wash. Afterward, as I dried off, the wet strands clinging to my mid-back, I decided I needed to be more practical. I was going to have to cut my hair, though I'd been growing it for years. I'd had regular haircuts for maintenance, but I'd never touched the length, aside from removing split ends, since at least seventh grade.

Moisture filled my eyes, and they started to burn when I remembered why I'd started growing out my hair. That had been the summer my mom decided to grow hers and donate it to the charity that made wigs for children with cancer after one of her friends' son had been diagnosed with leukemia and had gone bald from treatment. Becki and I had thought that was a great idea, so we'd joined her in the endeavor.

At the end of six months, they both had hair long enough to donate, and they'd gone in for their haircuts. I'd planned to join them, but I changed my mind at the last minute. It wasn't to be selfish or to deny bald kids wigs made from my hair. I'd just decided I wanted to see how long I could get it. It had been a major source of vanity for me, so the idea of cutting it now was a big deal, though I wasn't certain any of the four men in the building would understand my strange attachment to my hair.

I'd have to ask one of them to help me if I wanted it to look half-decent. For now, I just dried it off and slipped the damp strands into a ponytail before leaving the bathroom in search of food.

They were all in the mess hall, though there was no food in sight. I'd slept in later than the rest of them, and after my workout, it was already after nine a.m. I figured they'd eaten far earlier than me. Now, they just sat at one of the long tables, each engrossed in something. Jamar and Han played a game of chess, and Shane was reading a thick book that reminded me of a dictionary or thesaurus, though I doubted it was either of those. Wesley thumbed through a comic book, laughing every few frames in a soft way. The sound of amusement was a little jarring with the dark mood cast over the place, but I was glad to see signs of normality.

Han noticed me first. "Good morning, sleeping beauty."

I touched my damp hair self-consciously. "I thought you'd wake me up early to torture me again."

He shrugged. "We're having a day off."

I moved closer to the table. "I'll have you know I just finished running and lifting weights. I now know why we call it the Hell Virus. Surviving this reality is hell."

He grinned at me, his expression completely absent of any sympathy or compassion. "No one ever died from exercise, Lyss."

I was startled by the shortened form of my name and looked at Jamar, who'd been the first to use it. I wondered if he'd been telling them about our encounter yesterday at the shooting range, but quickly discarded the notion. I didn't know him well yet, but I was certain he was an honorable man, and he wouldn't go around sharing details of his sexual exploits with the others when I was part of their group. It must have just been a nickname Han arrived at on his own. It wasn't exactly shocking, but it was still surprising to hear Lyss, since no one had shortened my name for years, until now.

It was a small detail, and one certainly not worth getting worked up over, so I shrugged it off. I didn't mind the nickname. It just reminded me of happier days, along with a wave of melancholy as I remembered the last time I'd seen my best friend. That was why I'd stopped using Lyss. Hearing it had reminded me too much of parting from Holly, who had been my BFF. Until the outbreak, we'd been Facebook friends, but we hadn't seen each other since she'd moved across the ocean. I guessed I'd never see her now. Even if she was still alive, no one was crossing the oceans in the near future.

"If you're hungry, there's some food in the fridge," said Wesley without looking up from his comic book.

"Thanks." I left the seating area to enter the kitchen, which was large and filled with industrial appliances. There was a commercial-sized refrigerator that was empty and smelled musty, but an apartment-sized one was tucked beside it. I opened it, grimacing slightly at what I assumed was my plate of food. I think it was supposed to be _migas_ , but with powdered eggs and some kind of watered-down salsa, it didn't look that appealing. There weren't any tortilla strips either. Still, it was certainly better than nothing.

I turned to the microwave, inserting the plate before I realized there was no display showing on the appliance. I pressed the button, but nothing happened. They must have removed all nonessential appliances from the power system as a way to conserve energy, since they were fueling this place solely on the power of the sun, along with whatever reserves of fuel that had been in storage, or what they managed to scrounge up to power the generator. It was a backup generator, so it wouldn't have been designed to carry the full load of everything on the base. That explained the dinky fridge next to the empty chef's dream.

With a sigh, I pulled out the plate and carried it back to the table cold. Choking it down in its current semi-slimy state was a good motivator to wake up with the rest of them and have breakfast when it was hot next time. After I'd forced down the last bite, I looked up when Shane spoke my name. "Yeah?" I asked as I finished the last swallow of strong coffee. What I wouldn't give for some cream and sugar, but I hadn't even thought to ask if they had anything like that when I'd poured myself a cup from the pot in the corner.

"Can you come with me for a minute?"

It was probably perfectly innocent, but just the thought that he was asking me to slip away so we could have some private time together made my nipples harden against the soft fabric of my tank top. I'd worn a bra for running and exercising, but hadn't thought to grab a spare for my shower, so here I was with no bra and certain my reaction was visible to anyone who looked. Perhaps that hadn't been so much forgetfulness as deliberate oversight.

I got to my feet and followed him, making a mental note to return and clean my dishes once we were through. My mom had always been the cleaner in the family, and it had been a rude awakening to have to take care of myself after she'd passed. Becky had been as hopeless as me, but we'd muddled through and kept the house as clean as we'd could when she was still alive. I'd had to keep the subbasement tidy when I moved down there, because there was no room to be disorganized, and I guess the habits had finally taken hold and become part of my routine. Leaving a mess bothered me now, when I wouldn't have thought twice about it before Hell Virus.

Shane led me into one of the rooms that had clearly been an office. All the blinds were closed, and the room was dim when he shut the door behind us, at least until I clicked on an LED lantern. The small light provided a surprising amount of illumination, allowing me to fill in the details of the room. Simple and basic, with a desk, chair, and filing cabinet, it took less than three seconds to examine the entire room. I focused my attention on the man standing near me. "What did you need?" My voice sounded husky, and there was definitely a flirtatious edge to my words.

He grinned at me, but moved away instead of stepping closer. "I have something for you."

With excitement, I followed him to the desk. He sat down so he could reach the bottom drawer easily, sliding it open to reveal a metal box. He handed me the key, and I slid it into the lock, recognizing the safe as one of those fireproof kind in which people kept valuables.

The lid popped open, and I gasped at the golden gun laying inside. I'd never seen a gold-plated gun before, and I lifted it carefully. It was heavier than the Desert Eagle Jamar had shown me how to use yesterday, but it loaded similarly. I ejected the clip, somehow unsurprised to find it full. I turned the gun over carefully in my hand after I slammed the ammo back in, admiring the intricate gold filigree someone had used to create a pattern of vines, flowers, and an occasional butterfly darting around the tableau. "This is gorgeous. Thank you."

He grinned. "I picked it up in a pawnshop a few weeks ago. I'm not entirely sure why I took it, since there were better guns available. Maybe I was saving it for a grand romantic gesture." He leaned back in his chair, propping his boots on the desk as though he hadn't a care in the world.

"That it is. With things the way they are, I'd prefer a gold gun to a gold ring any day." I ran my fingers over it, enjoying the smooth barrel and the engraved lines of filigree. Stroking the gun was a sensual experience, and my panties were suddenly wet. "I need Jamar to teach me how to use it though."

He shook his head. "I can teach you anything you need to know."

I licked my lips, since it was time for the conversation I'd promised myself we'd have yesterday, before they had returned with Maddox's body. With a deep breath for courage, I laid the gun carefully in the safe and locked it again before moving closer to him. "I need to tell you something."

Before I could say more, he reached for me, dragging me down onto his lap, his lips nuzzling my neck. I moaned as sensations washed over me, but struggled for a moment of clarity. "It's important."

"So is this." He ghosted his lips over my collarbone before trailing his tongue down, pausing where my tank top blocked him from easy access.

"I slept with Jamar." I blurted out the words, certain if I didn't say them now, I wouldn't be able to. I'd be too lost in passion, and then I might be tempted not to say anything at all, which didn't sit well with me. I had no intention of sneaking around behind their backs. Things were different now, and as long as they were agreeable, there was no reason why we had to hide our relationships from each other.

He froze, his expression betraying confusion. "But you slept with me two days ago."

I nodded, biting my lip. "It just happened. It felt good, and I'm attracted to Jamar."

His expression cooled. "I take it you're more attracted to him than me, and this is your breakup speech?" His hands on my hips turned hard as he prepared to lift me off him.

I clung to him instead. "I'm not breaking up with you. To be honest, I wasn't even entirely sure we were together. Things are so different now."

His lips compressed into a thin line. "I'm not sure it's that different, at least not as different as you seem to think. I thought our sex in the shower meant something more than getting off."

I was fucking this up badly, and I took a deep breath as I struggled to compose myself, trying to find the words to explain how I was feeling. I put my hands on his face, surprised when he only stiffened, but didn't try to pull away. "Everything is different now. The rules we used to live by don't really apply anymore. If I want to have a relationship with five...four men," I quickly amended as a pang shot through me at the reminder of Maddox's loss, "There's no one to judge or care. As long as we're all fine with it, that's all that matters."

His perfect dark brows were creeping up toward his hairline. "Are you saying you fucked the other guys too?"

I shook my head. "No, not yet. I'd like to though. I'd like to make all of you happy, and it will make me happy too."

He looked unsettled. "You want us to share you like you're a passed-around sex toy? That's unnecessary. We've treated you with respect, and you don't have to feel obligated to screw any of us. If Jamar's who you want, stay with him, but you don't have to trade your body for security."

I let out a heavy sigh. "You make it sound so demeaning that way. It's not like that. It's been so long since I had anyone in my life, any kind of connection at all, and I feel it with you. I felt it with Jamar, and I'm certain I'd feel it with Han and maybe Wesley too. You guys are special, and you're special to me already. I'm not trying to be some post-apocalyptic slut, and I don't plan to jump into just anyone's sleeping bag. We have a good group here, and I'm starting to feel possessive of all of you. Does that make sense? I know it's a lot to ask of you to share me, but it would make me happy, and I think could actually make us all happy, if we're flexible and open-minded enough."

He seemed to mull it over, and myriad emotions crossed his face. I could identify most of them as they made the circuit—anger, confusion, jealousy, and finally weary acceptance.

"If that's what you want, I'll try to play nice and share my toy."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not your toy or your possession, and you know it. I'm making a choice here, and I'm trying to include you in the process and clarify what I want. I don't want anyone to get hurt."

It was Shane's turn to sigh heavily. "I have a feeling you might be living in a bit of a fantasy land still, Lyss. When you have four men sharing one woman, someone's bound to get hurt."

I shook my head. "Maybe in the old world, but this is the new world."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he shrugged. "How do you envision this working? Are we all going to get a day with you?"

I bit my lip. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead, to be honest. I figured it would just happen when it happens. I want everyone to know about everyone else, so that's why we're having this discussion."

A hint of anger returned his gaze. "You could have had this discussion with me before you fucked Jamar."

I nodded. "I could have and should have, but it just happened. I don't regret sleeping with him, and I certainly don't regret sleeping with you. I just want us to be open, and I'm sorry if I hurt you or made you angry with my actions."

He blinked. "You're surprisingly mature and well-adjusted for a nearly nineteen-year-old woman who's been through the shit you've been through this last year."

I grinned at him. "You can thank my parents for that. They were a bit unconventional, but they were good people, and I'd like to think they raised me well."

Shane shifted slightly, rubbing the length of his erection against my rapidly dampening pussy. "Speaking of raising..."

I made a sound of pleasure as I slipped my hand into his khakis to glide my palm over the length of him. "Definitely rising, and hard."

"I want to you fuck you right here on this desk, but there's something else I need to do first."

I braced myself to pull away, expecting him to say something related to running the base or keeping the group functioning, and resigning myself to rain check for later.

Instead, he started tugging at my sweatpants, pulling them down to mid-thigh, along with my panties. "I need you on my face. I believe we had an appointment for that."

I giggled. "It wasn't so much an appointment as it was a vague promise."

"I don't make vague promises, baby. You're about to find that out for yourself."

I leaned back on the desk, making it easier for him to remove my pants and tennis shoes. Sitting on his face actually translated to him bending over me, his head between my thighs as he placed his lips against the center of me. This position would have to do, because there was no practical way to actually climb on top of him and plant myself on his face. I was afraid the rickety office chair would tip over if we tried it.

Not that I was settling for anything in this position, I soon discovered. His mouth was magical, finding all the places that revved my engine, until I was gasping and bucking my hips against him, pleading to come. Instead of allowing it, the sadistic bastard pulled back and stood up, grinning down at me. I glared up at him in return. "Give me an orgasm."

Shane chuckled. "You're a bossy little thing."

I would have disputed that, but I was too busy watching his hands as he pushed his pants to his ankles, clearly deciding not to fully disrobe. If he was experiencing the same urgent need as me, there was no time to fully undress.

After lifting one of my legs and positioning me closer to the edge of the desk, my butt somehow balanced carefully on the edge, he moved between my legs, his cock entering me in one smooth motion. He wasn't gentle, but he wasn't rough either. It was just perfect as he moved at a steady pace, our bodies creating delicious friction that sent me into the orgasm I'd been waiting for. The convulsions of my sheath must have triggered his own release, and he came inside me with a low groan a moment later.

After we were finished, he carefully helped me to my feet and righted my clothing. Shane pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead before brushing his lips against mine in a deeper, more possessive kiss.

I looked up at him a little uncertainly, my palm pressed to his chest. "Are we okay then?"

"We're more than okay, and I'm willing to give the sharing thing a try. I can't promise I won't get jealous, and I'm not sure the others will be willing, but if this is what you want, we'll try to make it work."

I nodded earnestly. "It's definitely what I want, but I don't want to hurt anyone. I just can't imagine having to choose."

He shrugged. "You might have to, or you might have to give up on one or more of the others if they tell you to choose. I can't force anyone to accept this arrangement."

I clutched a handful of his camo-printed shirt. "I don't want to force anyone to do anything. This isn't about force. It's just about pleasure for all of us."

He kissed me again, this time on the tip of the nose. "I really hope you aren't overestimating our ability to be civilized and reasonable men. When I'm around you, my testosterone ramps up, and I could be a caveman."

I gave him a flirtatious look. "Maybe you can show me that side of yourself later?"

He swatted me on the butt as he moved away. "I'd show you now, but you're supposed to meet Han for hand-to-hand combat in a few minutes. Go to the gym and help set up some tumbling mats."

I let out a small sigh. "Haven't I exercised enough today?"

He just laughed at me and waved me away. "Don't forget your gun."

"Definitely not." I picked up the gun safe, feeling a tug of possessiveness. "Where I go, Miranda goes."

He arched a brow. "You've named your gun, and it's Miranda?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

He looked skeptical. "Why Miranda?"

I shrugged, unable to verbalize the full truth of the matter. I'd always liked the name, and from the time I was a little girl, I'd been determined I would name my child Miranda. I'd even joked as I got older that I didn't care if it was a boy. He would be Miranda too. Now, in this sick new world, I wasn't sure if or when I'd ever have a child of my own. Miranda was probably going to become an integral part of my life, so she might as well have the moniker that I had previously reserved for my unborn offspring. "Why not?" I said instead.

"Why not indeed? Have fun at your training session." There was the faintest tint of jealousy in his tone, but he seemed to be doing his best to control it.

For the first time, I had some doubts creep in. Was my idea of a relationship with all of them the brilliant plan I thought, or was it going to grow seeds of distrust and resentment among them, eventually splintering the group?

They were heavy thoughts that weighed me down as I made my way back to the bunkroom to stow my gun, planning to ask Jamar or Shane to show me how to use it later. I could probably figure it out on my own, but I wanted to get familiar with Miranda as quickly as possible.

I made one more stop before joining Han, pausing at the infirmary to sort through the drugs someone had stacked neatly in a cabinet. I picked up a package of birth-control pills and slipped them into the pocket of my capris, feeling relief wash over me. I wasn't near ovulation yet, so I hadn't risked getting pregnant by either Shane or Jamar during the last few days, but it was just reassuring to have birth-control available, to have a greater than ninety-nine percent chance of preventing a baby for which none of us was ready.

# Chapter Seven

Han was waiting for me in the gym as Shane had stated. He'd laid out several thick mats, giving us at least a twelve by twelve area. My stomach fluttered with nerves as I stepped onto the mat, standing near him. I wasn't thrilled about the lesson, but I understood the need to learn techniques to defend myself. I was also excited about the idea of his hands all over me, guiding me through what I needed to learn. I rather liked the idea of him manhandling me, as long as it wasn't in a rough way.

He nodded at me before looking down with a frown. "Shoes and socks off the mat."

I looked down reflexively, first seeing my tennis shoes and socks before my gaze moved to his feet. They were bare, and I glanced over to the side of the mat, quickly finding where he'd left his boots and socks. I lifted one foot and then the other so I could strip off mine and placed them neatly beside his before bouncing back to the mat. "Let's do this."

He laughed. "I hope you're this eager to continue after your muscles start to ache. I'm going to take it easy on you today though."

Twenty minutes later, I was huffing and puffing, trapped under his body as I struggled to free myself. "This is your idea of easy?" I glared up at him as I tried to push against his chest, but couldn't get my arms to move from where he'd lock them against my body.

He looked unrepentant as he smiled. "This is just the basics, baby. Wait 'til you get to the hard stuff."

I started to make a smartass remark, but then I realized I was already getting the hard stuff. His cock was thick and erect against my thigh as he shifted his position slightly, and my eyes widened. He was as turned on as I was. Probably more so even, because he hadn't been distracted by the need to try to remain on his guard while learning new and complicated tasks. I wasn't a threat to him, so he'd been able to relax, probably getting a lot out of touching me, even in an appropriate, nonsexual way.

I surrendered to the impulse and rubbed my pussy against his thigh, arching against him. I moaned as I did so, and his eyes widened with dawning comprehension. His gaze on me, I slid my tank top higher up my stomach, past my breasts, and folded it neatly under my armpits. I arched my back in silent offering, anticipating the moment when he would lower his head to touch his tongue to one of my needy, aching buds.

Instead, he started to pull back. I frowned in confusion as I gripped the front of his shirt, desperate to keep him with me. "Where are you going?"

"You have to work on your stamina before I can teach you offensive techniques, so we'll go through more ways to break free of holds tomorrow." His tone was distant and completely businesslike.

I refused to let go of my hold on his shirt, which forced him to stop moving away from me. Otherwise, he would have had to pry my fingers off his garment. "You don't want me?"

His eyes darkened with hunger, and it was obvious he did want me. "I don't fuck with another man's girl, especially if the guy's like a brother to me. We all know what you did with Shane in the showers. You weren't exactly quiet, Lyss."

I flushed, embarrassed despite my newfound streak of sensuality. "I'm sorry if we disturbed you," I said stiffly.

He rolled his eyes. "The only thing disturbing about it was imagining your body all wet from the shower, skin glistening, and wishing we were all the ones fucking you instead of our friend. But I'm still not going to poach on his territory."

It was my turn to roll my eyes at his chauvinistic phrasing. "First, it's not his territory. Shane doesn't own me, and I don't own him. None of you own me. Secondly, you have his permission to poach. Not that you need it, because all you need is my permission, but he and I've had a talk, and he understands and is willing to try a sharing arrangement."

He scoffed. "How accommodating of him. Surprisingly so. I'm not built that way. If I take you, you belong with me. That's obviously not what you want, so this isn't happening."

Disappointment filled me, and I had the ridiculous urge to cry at his rejection, though I understood his point-of-view. Until a few days ago, I would've shared it and would have been horrified at the idea of one woman having a sexual partnership with four men. I felt a little shaky as I got to my feet, convincing myself it was simply an aftereffect of the workout he'd put me through and not any weak emotions trying to overtake me. I straightened my shoulders and nodded at him. "If that's how you feel, I'm certainly not going to pressure you to change your mind."

"Thank you. See you tomorrow."

I nodded as I turned and walked away, keeping my back straight until I was out of his line-of-sight. After that, I ducked into the first office I found unlocked and leaned against the door, sliding down onto the floor as I stared into the darkened room. I honestly hadn't expected any of them to reject my offer.

What incredible hubris. Did I think my pussy was made of gold, just like my new gun? Just because we were in the Apocalypse, and they hadn't been laid for a while, didn't mean they were automatically going to change their outlook on everything and be okay with a polyamorous relationship. I understood why Han had rejected me, and it was well within his right to do so, but is still hurt. I wanted him as much as I wanted Shane and Jamar.

I was attracted to Wesley too, and I'd have to explore that relationship if he was interested, but it still hurt to know Han wasn't. He wanted to fuck me, but he also wanted to own me in a sense. I wasn't all right with that at all. As amazing as I was certain sex would be with him, the complications would be too hot to handle.

# Chapter Eight

They returned to making runs the next day, but this time I was left at the base alone. Jamar admonished me to keep up target practice, and Han made an offhand remark about how I should run through some stretches so I'd be limber for our session later, but those were the only instructions provided.

After I did a hundred rounds with Miranda, who had more of a kick than the Desert Eagle, but also more precision, leading me to hit my intended target ten times, I wandered aimlessly around the base for a bit, familiarizing myself with some of the layout. Eventually, I found myself in the kitchen and decided to try to put together a decent dinner before their return.

By the time they made it back, I'd prepared a feast. It was a meager feast by pre-apocalypse standards, but it was a pretty good haul in our new reality. I'd found a large canned ham, a can of pineapples, and a few spices. It was an interesting combination, and certainly not the honey-clove glaze my mom always used on the real hams she made at Easter and Christmas, but it tasted better than something out of an MRE pack, even though I was using canned ham—which was only a step up from Spam.

I'd found two boxes of dehydrated au gratin potatoes along with a large can of carrots, and I'd tried my hand at biscuits, but that had proved a disaster currently hiding in the bin in the kitchen. When they trooped into the galley, they looked tired and hungry, but all four were there with no obvious injuries. "Did you make it back safely?" It was a dumb question, since they were all standing in front of me, but none of them were impolite enough to point that out.

"Yeah, we're fine. We had a lot of debris removal today. We found good caches of things, but some of the stores looked like they'd been hit by an earthquake." said Jamar.

I frowned. "In Wyoming?" I'm sure we'd had earthquakes before, but I didn't remember ever feeling one, or even hearing about one on the news.

"I think it was someone just playing around with dynamite," said Wesley. "Likely some dumb kid not thinking through the consequences and not realizing how stupid it was to block a grocery store with food inside while playing with their destructive new toy."

"I hope they got it out of their system." The idea of a dynamite fiend running around sent a chill down my spine. I was sure we were safe in the base, but we wouldn't be when we were out on runs.

With a wink that distracted me, Jamar inhaled deeply. "Smells really good, Lyss. Thank you for cooking."

I grinned at him as I sat down at the table, joining them after they'd shed their gear and all dropped into a spot. "I'm not sure I'd call it cooking so much as rehydrating, and this is about as good as it gets with my culinary skills, but I wanted to do something to help."

His eyes gleamed, and he seemed to be sending me a message that was saying something entirely different. "I'm sure you'll find all kinds of ways to help."

My stomach rumbled with hunger, hiding the spasm of nerves that hit me right before. Not nerves exactly, but rather nervous excitement. I wondered if he would approach me again tonight. If so, it would be the first time I'd had sex with two men in the same day. I almost giggled at the thought, but stifled the reaction because it was so juvenile. I wasn't doing this just for titillation or experimentation. They weren't items to cross off my sexual bucket list.

I genuinely wanted the men around me, and I didn't want to treat our relationships like a game, or have them thinking this was only about getting off, and I didn't care about them otherwise. That was part of the reason I'd made the gesture of dinner—that and they were the ones risking their lives to bring back supplies, at least until they deemed me trained enough to accompany them. I knew that could be a long time from now, especially if things were awkward with Han during hand-to-hand combat training. I kind of wished now I hadn't made my interest known. At least I also knew how he felt and where he stood. It was better that way, even if it was a gigantic source of disappointment.

We ate dinner in companionable company, sharing lighthearted conversation and a bit of teasing here and there. It was remarkably like the holiday meals I remembered, and for that moment, it was as though the old world was back again, and none of the horror had happened in the intervening months. The feeling didn't last, but I clung to it all through dinner and dessert, which was a simple dump cake made with powdered eggs. The eggs I'd taken from the store had unfortunately been rotten, but I'd made do.

"Hey, if you're out and you see chickens anywhere, can you get me some? And a coop to keep them in?" Raising chickens had been my 4-H project, so I knew how to do it. I'd never kept them much past the pullet stage, but I knew the basic needs of a chicken, and I was confident I could handle taking care of a small flock.

Han frowned. "You want to bring chickens into an underground base?"

I shrugged. "I guess they could stay in the warehouse upstairs, and then they can free-range in the lot out there."

"I'm afraid that wouldn't work," said Shane. "It's like advertising people live here if we do that, and I'm not comfortable with the idea of you going up alone without an escort. Since there're only four of us besides you, we might not always be available when you need to take care of your birds. I'll bring you a book or two to see if you can figure out an alternative way to raise them down here. I'm sure we could rig up a light, and a shelter wouldn't be a problem. We can set up a room somewhere in the base, if we can figure out how to give the hens what they need."

"Don't forget a rooster. Can't have more chickens without a cock." I blushed as I said the word, even though I'd seen two of the four cocks at the table and had briefly come temptingly close to seeing Han's as well. I cleared my throat and tried to move past the moment as they all snickered at me. "I'd appreciate those books for certain. Do you have them here?"

He nodded. "We raided a library and picked up a bunch of books on self-sufficiency. We've also been checking out bookstores as time allows. I'm sure I've run across the topic in some of the books I've been reading, so I'll bring you those, and you can study the subject. Come up with a plan."

It felt a bit like busywork, but I was happy to have anything to keep me occupied, though I was certain my schedule was filling up quickly. With weapons class and learning hand-to-hand combat, along with keeping my lovers satisfied, I was probably going to be so busy I'd wish for a few days of doing nothing soon enough, but after the boredom of holing up in the subbasement for months, I was happy to have things to keep me busy again.

I was happy to have anything, for that matter, and especially the men seated around me. Even if I never became lovers with any of them besides Shane and Jamar, I still cared about them, and I could feel our friendships cementing the more time we spent together. Trust took time, but time was a practically unlimited commodity at the moment.

My heart stuttered as I realized that wasn't entirely true. Maddox had run out of time in a heartbeat, so we couldn't afford to get complacent. We had a good thing here, and it could be a great thing, but it could also be snatched away from us if we weren't diligent in protecting it.

Reality sucked.

# Chapter Nine

I'd been expecting it, so it wasn't exactly a shock when Wesley approached me the next morning instead of Han. "Are you ready to work out?"

I suppressed my searing disappointment and nodded, following behind him. I wondered if he would be my new workout partner/personal trainer/torturer, but I didn't ask. What did it matter? If Han couldn't move past yesterday, and things were still awkward, maybe it was better this way.

I managed five laps around the track before I felt like I was dying. I slowed to a power-walk, and unlike Han, who would have kept pushing me, Wesley just called words of encouragement.

He was the shortest and least muscular of the four, but he was still impressive. He had the kind of lean, ropy muscles I associated with underwear models, though he was too short to be a model. He was only about seven inches taller than my own five-one.

He was also more laidback than Han had been, and when I broke away from the track, gasping, after power-walking an extra two laps, he just waved at me and let me go collapse against the wall. I watched as he ran, appreciating his lithe form, but it was a visual appeal, rather than a visceral reaction. He didn't move me the way Shane, Jamar, and Han did. I felt bad about that.

After allowing a brief reprieve, he took me to the weight room, putting me through the paces. My arms and legs felt like Jell-O by the time he moved me to the weight bench with its racked barbell. I wasn't sure about using it with my arms so fatigued, but Wesley helped me hold the bar. I followed his instructions, exhaling as I pushed upward, but my arms started to tremble. His hands were there over mine in seconds, offering support as he took the barbell away and put it on the rack again.

I looked up at him. "Thanks. I just couldn't hold it."

"I probably pushed you too hard too soon. I'm sorry. We just want you in top shape so you can join us on runs."

I nodded, understanding. It was important for me to become a full member of the team as quickly as possible. I understood the necessity, but I couldn't imagine I was ever going to enjoy this. Workouts were something to endure, not anticipate.

As I lay there gathering my strength and allowing my muscles to stop spasming, he leaned over me and pulled up my tank top, revealing the smooth skin of my stomach. I stiffened at the touch, finding it more obtrusive than enticing. Staring at him as his fingers brushed over my abdomen, I struggled to feel a spark. He was attractive, but I just wasn't attracted to him the way I was to the others.

That made me felt guilty, so I endured his touch, actively willing myself to respond. When he moved around the weight bench and carefully pulled me forward, getting me to stand, I went along with it. I was desperately trying to summon a dormant attraction, to appreciate the feel of another person after being alone for so long. Unfortunately, it wasn't working.

My lack of reaction confirmed for me my attraction to Han, Jamar, and Shane hadn't been the product of a simple need for human contact that had propelled my actions for the past few days. The others drew me to them, and not because they were almost the last men on earth, or at least in my world.

I'd been pretty sure of that, but now when confronted with the opportunity to have sex with the handsome man in front of me, to feel his arms around me as his body pressed into mine, I couldn't summon any enthusiasm. I knew it had to be because of the lack of attraction. If I'd felt this way with Shane, Han, or Jamar, I wouldn't have ended up sleeping with any of them. Not that I had with Han, but I would if he ever changed his mind.

I felt guilty, so I tried really hard to get into the kiss when Wesley lowered his head, putting a hand under my chin to hold me in place as his mouth lowered, lips touching mine. It was a sweet and gentle kiss, but it left me cold.

When he opened his mouth, his tongue exited and tried to enter mine. I allowed it entry, and even tried to summon a response, but it was like having a limp fish in my mouth. I didn't think there was anything wrong with his technique, but I wasn't feeling the same urgent need I did when I was with my other lovers.

When he broke the kiss, I took advantage of the moment and stepped back. He frowned, his confusion obvious, and I tried to keep my voice kind, but firm, when I spoke. "I'm sorry, but there's no spark between us. You're a sexy man, but I'm not feeling the connection."

He frowned. "What connection? It's just sex."

I shrugged. "It is just sex, but I need to feel something more than tepid interest to be able to sleep with you."

For a moment, he appeared to be pouting. "You're already fucking everyone else, so why not me?"

I flinched, but straightened my shoulders. "My sex life is private, but I'll tell you just once that I'm not sleeping with anyone besides Shane and Jamar. I wish I felt the necessary heat between us, but it's missing. I think we'll make better friends than lovers."

He looked like he wanted to argue for a moment, and then he sighed. "Fine, I guess I can live with that."

I smiled at him, trying to ease the awkwardness and hoping we were past his annoyance at my refusal. Workout sessions were quickly becoming my least favorite part of the day. Not just because I didn't enjoy running and lifting weights, but because it seemed to be the place to have deep conversations, and to turn away or be turned away from a passionate embrace.

# Chapter Ten

In complete contrast, gun practice with Miranda was rapidly becoming my favorite part of preparing for my new life as a soldier. Jamar always focused on the task at hand, his goal to improve my shooting ability, but he was quick to dole out rewards and compliments. Our shooting sessions always ended in one or both of us getting off. Usually both, and almost always at least twice.

Shane hadn't displayed any of the jealousy he'd shown on the day of our talk, and I was content with our arrangement. Occasionally, I'd find myself thinking longingly of Han, wishing he would join my circle of lovers, but I tried to respect his viewpoint. I didn't go out of my way to flirt, and when we interacted, it was friendly, but there was definitely a hint of unease below the surface. Things were still awkward with him.

Not as awkward as they were with Wesley though. He hadn't approached me again, and he certainly hadn't come on to me in any fashion, but he watched me a lot. I tried not to read too much into it, figuring I was the only female he'd seen in months, so it was no wonder he liked to see my body.

It was still damned awkward though, and I decided it was time to move out of the bunkroom and into a room of my own. I was alone in the base again, having done my morning target practice, pleased to see I had an eighty percent accuracy rate now, and I'd completed my exercise routine first thing. I was pretty much doing that on my own now, since Wesley only showed up every now and then. When he did, I made more mistakes because his hungry gaze remained on me.

I felt awful for not reciprocating the attraction, but I was certain I wasn't ever going to feel that for him, so I didn't want to encourage him. There was definitely a distance between us, which saddened me. I was certain we could be good friends if he could ease off the blatant sexual interest.

I hated to admit it, but it was because of him that I was moving into my own room. I'd woken the night before, my eyes snapping open as prickles of awareness went down my spine. Turned on my left side, the first thing I saw was Wesley's eyes in the dark, the only illumination provided by the small LED light in the corner. He'd taken the bunk next to mine, moving there without explanation to anyone, though I didn't know if anyone had asked his reasons anyway. When there were twelve beds available, he could have given me a little room, but I was certain he'd moved closer in hopes of swaying me.

Last night, I found him staring at me as he'd masturbated. His hand had been under the cover, but from the rapid movements and the way his face had taken on a purple tinge of exertion, coupled with his ragged breathing, I had no doubt he'd been jerking off while looking at me.

There was no law against it—hell, there was no law against much of anything anymore—but it still bothered me. It was done without my permission, and maybe that was why I found the act repulsive. I'd slammed my eyes shut and pretended to sleep until I heard him groan softly a moment later, assuming he was done. I hadn't opened my eyes and looked at him for the rest of the night, even though his soft snores had filled the room a few minutes later.

It was time for me to have some privacy, so today I was heaving furniture and turning into a sweaty mess.

I'd lucked out and found an office that was posh by Army base standards. It actually had a couch in it, and I was delighted to discover it folded out into a queen-size bed, though the mattress looked thin and uncomfortable. Maybe I could bolster it with a couple of mattresses from the currently unused bunks. The men hadn't brought back anyone else on their supply runs. They'd seen a few people, but everyone they ran across was skittish and hid or ran away. It made sense. When a person saw four hardened men coming at them with large guns, they tended to get out of the way if they had any brains in their heads.

Other than the couch, a filing cabinet, and a wall full of awards for someone identified as the base commander, the only remaining fixture in the room was the huge desk. I didn't think it was Army-issue, but I wasn't certain. It was a rich cherry color, and I would have kept it if it hadn't been so massive—ridiculously so, dominating half the room. That was fine when using the place as an office, but I wanted it to be a bedroom.

Not only did the room have a foldout couch, but it also had only one wall of windows facing the hallway, so they would be easy to cover. There were blinds in place, but they were missing a few slats, as I discovered when I let them down. I'd have to scavenge blinds from one of the other offices, or perhaps even on a run, but it gave me more privacy than I'd had for a while.

Moving the desk took half the afternoon, and I finally ended up going in search of a screwdriver so I could disassemble it a piece at a time. I found the right equipment in the stockroom, where Jamar—I was certain it was him due to his need to organize everything—had sorted and stacked everything onto a series of utilitarian shelves. All the tools were together, so I helped myself to a Phillips-head and a rubber mallet, just in case.

The desk was well-made, and I cursed its craftsmanship as I wrangled with it. Finally, it broke into three pieces, as it was meant to, and I was able to haul each one out of the room, though that was more a system of dragging and cursing as pain flared in my lower back from the exertion.

Even broken down into three parts, it was still unwieldy and crazy-heavy. If I hadn't disassembled it myself, I'd be certain he was hiding something in the desk, like a hooker's body. Apparently, Commander Nielsen, as identified by his multiple plaques and awards, had just been an aficionado of quality rather than after a storage place to hide dead hookers.

By the time I'd moved the desk into the office next to my new bedroom, my back was killing me. I'd gotten stronger with the weightlifting, though it had only been a few days, but I was certain I was going to be feeling this for the rest of the evening. I must have wrenched too hard on the desk or lifted it wrong.

Feeling somewhat miserable, I hobbled into the shower and cranked the water as hot as I could stand it. I knew it wouldn't last long at that temperature, since the backup generator only heated one water heater. It had been designed that way to conserve energy, but it was frustrating when you are halfway through and ran out.

I'd just turned off the water when I heard steps in the shower room. I grab my towel and covered my front before letting out a small breath when I saw Jamar step inside. I smiled at him. "Did you find a good haul?"

He shrugged. "Got a few useful things, but most of it's picked clean."

I bit my lower lip, sharing his frustration. Unless we could find the tools necessary to survive here, we'd have to leave the underground base in search of a farm or somewhere more equipped for self-sufficiency when spring came again. I wasn't looking forward to going back out into the real world. Ensconced here in the base, surrounded by the men who had rescued me, I wished we could all just stay here.

Drying off, I let out a small cry as I bent over to dry my legs, and my back spasmed. Jamar was by me in an instant, his expression revealing his concern. "What's wrong? Are you sick, Lyss?"

I shook my head. "I think I wrenched my back though."

His touch was gentle as he took the towel from me and finished drying me off, since I was finding it difficult to bend over at the waist. He was strictly business even as he dried between my legs, but I was still wet and achy for him when he pulled away the towel.

Unfortunately, my spasming back prevented me from doing anything about it. I could've protested, insisting I could walk, but when he swung me into his arms to stride from the shower room after helping me dress, I just snuggled against him and enjoyed the ride. It was safe to allow myself moments of weakness with him.

He took me to the mess hall, and I saw the raised eyebrows as he carried me in and placed me carefully on the bench attached to the table. I whimpered, and Shane caught my eye. He was frowning, his concern evident, and I managed a wobbly smile. "I just hurt my back. I'll be fine."

"How did you do that?" asked Shane.

"Apparently the commander at this base had a fetish for heavy desks. Must have pulled my back when I was taking apart the monster in his office and dragging it out."

Han frowned, and I was hopeful I saw concern reflected in his gaze, but not entirely certain. "What were you doing with his desk?"

"I was trying to clear it out of my new bedroom. His office is the only one with a foldout sofa, though the mattress looks uncomfortable. If I'd left his desk in there, I wouldn't have had room for anything."

Han nodded. "I think I know the desk you're talking about. That thing's intimidating." There was a look of admiration in his eyes. "I'm surprised you managed. I don't think any of us could have lifted it by ourselves."

"I didn't lift it so much as pull it apart with a screwdriver and drag the sections into the next room. Maybe I hurt my back when I was dragging." I shrugged. It didn't matter when it'd happened, but there was a definite and continuous ache in my lower back. Add in the occasional muscle spasm, and I was near tears. I was also unable to eat much, though I hated wasting food, and when Jamar lifted me into his arms at the end of the meal, I didn't protest.

He carried me to my new bedroom, carefully laying me down on my stomach. I looked up at him from where my bent head touched the pillow. "Thanks."

"I'll be back."

I watched him leave, wondering what he had in mind as I lay on the bed and tried to convince my back to stop hurting. Unfortunately, it wasn't in the mood to listen.

When Jamar returned, his fingers slipped into the waistband of my sweatpants, and I moaned as he stripped them off me in one smooth motion. I wanted to tell him I didn't feel up to fucking, but I didn't. The truth was, my body was stirring to life, and I'd have to be dead not to respond to this man.

He shoved my shirt up above my shoulder blades, and I moaned when he brushed his hands down my body for just a moment in a tender caress. My moan turned to a gasp of surprise when something dribbled on my back. "What the hell is that?"

"Cooking oil. We're low on supplies, at least the kind that're good for massage."

His intentions became clear, and I stopped complaining or thinking about anything at all. I just let his soothing touch wash over me, pleased to find the spasms were fading, at least as long as he rubbed my back. When he stopped, the pain would gradually return. I didn't mention it though, because I knew he couldn't rub me all night. He'd probably try just to make me happy though.

There was a knock at my door, and I turned my face from where it was mostly in the pillow to call, "Come in."

I knew it was Shane even before I saw him. I don't know if I recognized his scent, his tread, or if it was something less easy to explain that allowed me to identify him. Either way, I flashed him a smile. "If you're here for the housewarming party, that's going to have to wait a few days."

He grinned at me. "And here I brought a gift."

I eyed him with interest, looking for something that could be construed as a gift.

Holding it between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted a little white pill for me to see, along with a bottle of water. "This is a muscle relaxer. You'll sleep like the dead, but you'll also feel better. I think you should take one."

If I'd been out in the real world, hunkered down in my subbasement in hiding, I wouldn't have taken anything that would impair my awareness. Here in the base, with Jamar and Shane watching over me, I felt perfectly safe and took the pill he extended, awkwardly drinking some water to wash it down before handing back the bottle.

To my surprise, instead of leaving, he simply sat down on the other side of the bed, his hands moving on the other side of my back as he and Jamar worked in tandem to soothe my pain.

They were also leaving me a sopping mess, and I couldn't help pressing my mound against the mattress in search of some kind of relief. I wanted them, both of them, even though I was in no shape to please any of us at the moment.

Working as one, their hands moved lower as they apparently realized my distress. It was almost like it was still part of the massage when Shane's hand slipped between my thighs, two of his fingers surging inside my wet sheath as he began to pump them in and out of me while flicking his thumb across my clit in a gentle fashion.

More oil trickled onto my buttocks, and I didn't know whether to giggle, protest, or moan as the cool oil seeped into the space between my cheeks. I let out a small cry of surprise when Jamar slipped his fingers in that space, pressing one against my puckered rosette. Acting on instinct, I pushed back against his hand, and his thumb started to glide inside me.

Shane and Jamar made quite a team as their fingers explored my folds and my tightest place. Before I knew it, there were two fingers in my back passage, and Jamar crossed his fingers before scissoring them inside me. It hurt for a moment, and I whimpered, but when Shane started rubbing my clit more forcefully, I forgot all about the flash of discomfort from Jamar's fingers in my back channel.

It wasn't long before I clamped tightly around both of them, my entire lower body a taut mass of constricted muscles. For just the briefest moment, my body locked down around them, as though trying to keep their hands lodged inside me forever. I liked the idea, but it was impractical. As the pleasure of my orgasm started to fade, my muscles relaxed, and they were able to slip free easily a moment later.

After that, they went back to rubbing my back, sharing the duty and acting as though they hadn't just gotten me off. I wanted to reciprocate, but I was in no shape to do so at the moment. The sleepiness side effect was really hitting me, and my pain levels had diminished significantly. I assumed that was a combination of the tender massage and the muscle relaxant. Whatever it was, I surrendered to sleep, content to have them watching over me.

# Chapter Eleven

I woke sandwiched between them, abruptly realizing they had spent the night with me, somehow folding their frames on either side of me in the queen-size foldout bed. My hip hurt from the bar going across the middle of the bed, and my back twinged just a bit as I moved, but I was definitely feeling better and had more range of motion.

My movements must have woken both of them, which shouldn't surprise me. I was certain with their training, they were used to responding to even the faintest sound. They both jerked awake and seemed instantly alert.

They were curled on their sides, with Shane on my left and Jamar on my right. I lay flat on my back, apparently having turned over at some point. I'd never been a stomach sleeper, and every time I tried, I woke up flipped over. It allowed me a pretty good vantage point as I stared at the two men who'd taken such good care of me last night. I wanted to take care of them, so as my gaze darted back and forth between the two of them, I let my hands move off my stomach and to my sides, fumbling for their erections.

I found Shane's right away, but Jamar's was a little farther down than I'd expected. They both wore underwear—boxers for Shane and boxer-briefs for Jamar—so I was unable to touch their bare skin at the moment. I just rubbed their bulges through the cotton, enjoying their moans of pleasure. I'll admit it was strange to have three people in the bed, but it didn't feel like one of us was extraneous. I wasn't bothered by both Shane and Jamar there, and they didn't seem to care that the other was there as well. I was certain of that when Shane pulled on his boxers enough to free his cock, and Jamar did the same a moment later.

Since I didn't know where the oil was, I was careful to lubricate their shafts with their own pre-cum before I started to slide my hand up and down them, stroking the hard lengths in my palms. "You two are so beautiful."

Shane grinned at me. "Shouldn't that be our line?"

I smiled at him, my gaze drawn back to the cocks in my hands. They were an interesting contrast with their different skin tones. Shane was thicker and a bit longer, but Jamar was certainly packing as well. I knew that from experience.

And speaking of experience, I remembered the way they had fingered me last night, and I realized I wanted that again, but with their cocks instead of their fingers this time.

Summoning my bravery in an attempt to hide my shyness, I said, "I want to fuck both of you. Right here and right now."

Shane and Jamar shared a glance, and it seemed to speak volumes. Jamar was the first to speak to me. "We're afraid you'd hurt yourself with that back injury."

I shook my head. "I'm feeling much better, so as long as you're slow and careful with me, I think it will be fine."

"Just to clarify, you're talking about taking both of us at once, right?" asked Shane.

My stomach fluttered with nervous excitement as I nodded. "That's what I'd like, yes."

The poor sofa bed creaked like crazy as they set about removing their underwear before turning their attention to stripping me. I tried to help, but they both batted my hands away, and it quickly became obvious they intended to do all the work. I shivered at the idea of being at their mercy, but not with a hint of fear. I couldn't wait, though I wasn't too certain I'd be able to keep my hands to myself and completely surrender to whatever they wanted. I wanted to be an active participant. I wanted to make love with them, not have them make love _to_ me.

For a moment, the haze of passion started to fade as I realized I'd used the word lovemaking. This was fucking. We were friends, and we cared about each other, but we weren't going to fall in love and have our guaranteed happily ever after. I needed to remember that, because the more I cared about them, the worse it would hurt when I lost one or both. With our new reality, lifespans would be shorter, and I could lose them, or they could lose me, in a heartbeat.

I struggled to push aside the thoughts whirling through my mind, not wanting to think about sadness and loss when I had two hot men determined to please me.

My sweats had never made it back on my body last night after the back massage and the fingering, so they only had to strip off my shirt to leave me as naked as they were.

I stretched as far as my back would allow, capturing the first mouth nearest mine. Shane and I shared a hungry kiss before he broke away, allowing Jamar his turn. They were sharing me easily, as though they had done it before, which prompted me to ask, "Have you been in a threesome before?"

"No," said Shane.

"Yeah, a couple," said Jamar. "I was pretty popular with the ladies back in the day."

I suppressed a feeling of jealousy that tried to sweep over me, reminding myself firmly that it was the past. The sad truth was the people he'd been in a threesome with before were probably dead now. I had no reason to feel jealous. Instead, I cupped his cock and stroked it lightly. "You're still popular with this lady."

"Was it weird?" asked Shane, his gaze on Jamar as his head lowered so he could take one of my nipples in his mouth. He sucked firmly before flicking his tongue over the tip, making my breath hiss through my teeth.

"It was to start with, but by the end of the evening, everybody was having a good time."

"Was it like this? Two guys and a girl?" I asked in a breathless whisper as Jamar bent his head to pay attention to my other breast. There were two mouths sucking on my nipples at the same time, and I writhed helplessly, searching for something to fill the ache between my thighs.

He lifted his head before answering. "I've actually had each. I was with a girl who wanted to try a threesome with a second guy, so I told her I'd do it, but only if she was willing to reciprocate and bring in another girl too. The relationship didn't last long, but we had some fun and kinky times with our friends during the few weeks we were together."

"What happened?"

He hesitated for a moment, looking torn about answering. Finally, with a shrug, he said, "Things got awkward. I could tell my buddy was starting to develop feelings for her, and she was getting jealous of her friend, the one she'd introduced as the female for our threesomes. There was nothing between Angela and myself besides the sex, but Shantae refused to believe it. I suggested we stop threesomes or anything else that involved other people besides ourselves and try to fix the problems in our relationship, but she told me she knew I wanted to be with Angela, so she cut me loose." He sneered for a moment, looking slightly bitter. "Turns out she hooked up with my buddy a few weeks later. Last I heard, they'd gotten married, but that was a couple years ago. They're probably both dead now."

"That worries me," I whispered.

"We're all worried about dying, but we have to keep living," said Shane, part of my nipple in his mouth obscuring the clarity of his words.

"I'm afraid of that too, but I meant I don't want anything to happen to our relationship. You both mean so much to me, and I don't want anybody to get jealous or weird."

Shane lifted his hand ahead, his hand curving over my abdomen as he looked down at me with a serious expression. "I don't think you can have this kind of relationship and not have some jealousy. Right now, I'm jealous as hell that Jamar's mouth is on your tit, and my mouth was just on the other one. I don't like to share, but it's a different world now, and if I'm going to be in this kind of relationship, at least it's with one of my brothers-in-arms."

Biting my lip, I looked at Jamar, who was watching us, though his tongue was engaged with keeping my nipple tingly and stimulated. "Do you feel the same way?"

He nodded, looking regretful as he pulled away from my pale skin and pink nipple. "Yeah, it's inevitable to feel some jealousy. But I think we'll work out the kinks." He winked at me as he made a pun, whether inadvertent or not. "I think we can make this work. For you, to have you, I'm certainly willing to try. Shane and I have talked about it, and—"

I stiffened in surprise. "You talked about me? About this?"

"Yeah, we talked last night while you slept." Shane moved his hand on my stomach down to my pussy, but not yet touching me. He was just increasing my anticipation. "I think we worked out our major issues. It's important we all maintain open communication if we're going to make this work, but other than some jealousy, I think it will. We both want to make you happy."

I blinked back unexpected tears, feeling like an idiot for wanting to cry at the moment. I sniffled before speaking. "I want to make you two happy as well. I really want you, both of you, but if it's easier, we can keep as we have been, with separate times."

Jamar grinned at me. "Sugar, why do you think we're both here with you? We planned to fuck you like crazy this morning if you were up for it. It made it awfully hard to sleep with a hard dick as we waited for you to wake up and see how you felt this morning."

I grinned at them, amused by their plan. "You both planned to take advantage of me?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Shane with a wink.

"You'd better get to it then," I said in a firm tone.

"Yes, ma'am," echoed Jamar with a chuckle.

Shane moved up, and Jamar move down. His lips captured mine in a long kiss as my other lover parted my thighs, moving me carefully so as not to turn my back as his tongue squirmed between my folds. I pressed hard against Jamar's mouth as Shane kissed me deeply while one of his fingers idly toyed with my nipple, plucking it in a random fashion that made me buck my hips and thrust my back up. I whimpered at the pain, and they immediately stilled. I lifted a hand, making a gesture for them to continue, and forced my back to relax against the thin mattress. As long as I didn't move too much, I'd be fine.

Shane continued moving upward, and I soon realized he was positioning himself so that his shaft could brush my lips. I opened them in invitation, and he slipped inside. It was a strange and overwhelming sensation to have Shane's erection in my mouth while Jamar's tongue was in my slit. It was harder to remember to suck Shane as Jamar stirred my excitement, pushing me to a fever pitch. As I started to come, I did remember not to bite down, a fact for which I was certain Shane was grateful.

Jamar continued licking me, lightening his pressure for a moment until most of my spasms had passed before initiating me into a new round of excitement.

I lost track, but I think it was three orgasms that he gave me in the time he was between my legs. It took me that long to coax Shane to come, and though I choked slightly on the cum shooting down my throat, I managed to swallow it all. I had the inappropriate thought of telling Han I was a swallower, but immediately pushed that thought away. He didn't want to be here, and he didn't want to share me, so he had no place in my thoughts when I was with Shane and Jamar.

I was still convulsing, my pussy feeling slick but achy, and Jamar carefully shifted my hips so he could get between my legs and thrust into me. He wasn't gentle with his thrusts, but he was careful not to jar my back excessively. Shane had pulled out of my mouth and was now back to licking my nipple, and though I was certain I was too exhausted to come again, I still managed to when his mouth tugged rhythmically at my nipple as Jamar thrust in and out of me while playing with my clit.

I let out a keening moan, sounding a bit like a porno actress, to my horror, but unable to stifle the sound or care about what it revealed at the moment. I was sure Wesley and Han had already figured out what the three of us were doing, and while I didn't want to rub it in anyone's faces, I was too far gone in my pleasure to be excessively concerned with hiding what I was doing. I had no reason to hide, because I wasn't doing anything wrong. Neither were Shane and Jamar, and if Han and Wesley had an issue with it, it was their problem, not ours.

# Chapter Twelve

After that first morning, Jamar and Shane had technically moved in, and they never moved out. A few days after the three of us had become lovers together, they returned with a king-size bed scavenged from a department store display. It wasn't as beautiful as the one my mom had made me, but it was a lot more comfortable than the foldout sofa, especially when I was sharing the space with two large male bodies. It was easy, surprisingly so, how we all blended together into one relationship.

As soon as my back was better, I returned to my usual fitness routine, and I kept up gun practice until Miranda felt like an extension of my right hand. Shane had taken over my martial arts training, and I tried not to feel an emptiness when I looked at Han, wishing he would join our triad and make it a quartet. It wasn't like I was unsatisfied with the lovers I had, and I was starting to feel a lot more for them than I'd planned. I wasn't ready to use anything close to the "L" word, but there were definitely feelings developing between all three of us. Things were good, and I was good.

I was doing so well that after a week of hard training, Shane told me that night at dinner I was going on the run with them the next day. I licked my lips, feeling nervous, but also excited. I hadn't been off the base since they'd brought me here more than two weeks ago. I was going a bit stir crazy, but I was also frightened. What if I messed up? What if I got hurt, or I got one of them hurt? What if I lost them?

I took a deep breath, trying to control my panic and focus on what they'd been teaching me. I wasn't anywhere near their levels of proficiency yet, but I was competent, and with them at my back, surely everything would be all right. I probably could have refused to go, but I didn't want to. When they'd taken me in, it was with the proviso I become a useful member of the team. I'd finally reached that level, and I couldn't let them down or try to go back on my word. Just because I shared the bed of two of them was no reason to expect to remain safely behind and let them do all the hard work, risking their lives to keep me safe.

It would be different if I were pregnant or something, but since that wasn't even a possibility, I had no excuse besides my own fear holding me back. I considered that a paltry justification at best, so I took the news with as much equanimity as I could and tried to pretend I wasn't frightened out of my mind. Things would be all right. I just had to remember what I'd learned and rely on my teammates.

We set out early the next morning, as was the pattern. Since they were going farther from the base now, there were usually two or three, sometimes more, hours of driving involved before reaching an area they hadn't explored yet.

We entered the city, and my stomach churned with nausea as the smell hit me. It should have been muted by now, and it probably was. I imagined the stench had been even worse during the first round of infection, but it was still an overwhelming miasma that made my eyes water and my gut heave.

Without a word, Han reached into his pack and withdrew a container of Vicks. I looked at it doubtfully. "I'm not congested, but thanks. Wish I were."

He surprised me with a laugh. "Put it under your nose, and it will help block out some of the smell."

I did as he suggested, noting none of the others bothered. I felt kind of weak, but then I reminded myself I hadn't yet ventured into the city since the outbreak. My parents and I had lived in a smaller town, and our nearest city still only had a population of sixty thousand. I hadn't been in a place with hundreds of thousands of dead people yet, so I should cut myself some slack.

After stowing the Vicks back in his bag, Han turned away from me again. Somehow, I'd found myself seated beside him, and each time our thighs rubbed together as the Humvee jolted, I had to catch my breath and remind myself not to reach out to touch him. I was starting to feel like a greedy girl, blessed to have the attention and affection of two wonderful men, but still craving a third as well.

Since I didn't want him instead of, but in addition to, I knew it wasn't happening, so I tried to keep my thoughts in check and made a point of keeping my hands to myself by gripping the strap of my rifle as we drove along. Miranda was secure at my hip, but Jamar had given me the extra weapon before we'd left base.

Wesley—who wasn't acting nearly as lecherous since I'd moved into a private room with Jamar and Shane—was behind the wheel, and he seemed to know exactly where he was going. I figured they'd cleared a route on previous trips, perhaps the day when they'd come back tired and sweaty after clearing debris. As we rounded a corner, I saw a hospital and pointed to it. "Have you guys checked there? It might have medicine."

Jamar sat on my other side. He put his hand on my thigh and squeezed gently. "The hospitals were a mess, babe. It's where most of the sick people went to die, and I doubt there are any supplies left. We thought about checking it out, but when we looked through the binoculars, we could see the dead piled four deep in some places in the waiting room. There's too much risk of disease and just general disgusting shit to go in there. Instead, we've been trying to hit urgent care clinics and vet hospitals, along with pharmacies, to collect medical supplies. Hospitals are a no-go unless we absolutely need some kind of equipment we could only find there, and none of us are field surgeons."

I grinned at him. "That reminds me. I've been meaning to pick up some medical books and see what I can learn."

Shane, seated in the front beside Wesley, started laughing. "We're going to have a self-taught surgeon among us. Who's the first patient?"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Laugh it up, but when I take out your appendix someday, you'll thank me."

"I think the important question is, does it need to come out, or is it just a punishment?" asked Han, his tone lighter and easier than I'd heard in a long time.

I laughed, though the joke was somewhat at my expense. "I haven't decided yet. I guess that part depends on his behavior."

Shane sent me a smoldering look. "Remind me to stay on your good side, Lyss."

I grinned at him. "I'm sure that won't be a problem."

All too soon, Wesley had parked the Humvee in a secluded parking lot, taking advantage of a large tree growing over into the area to semi-shield the vehicle. I slid out, briefly squeezing Jamar's hand before letting go and slipping into soldier-mode. I could do this. I was ready, and I had at least as much training as the average basic training graduate. I probably knew even more than that, because the men had been diligent with instructing me and teaching me, clearly wanting to keep me alive. I wanted that too, so I'd done my best. It was time to see now if that was good enough.

Shouldering my gun, I followed behind them, already knowing we wouldn't split up. I'd heard enough of their strategy talks to know they usually broke apart to hit separate buildings, but we'd gone over our plan back at the base, and for today at least, we were all moving together as a group, exploring one building at a time. I was sure they were doing it for me, but I was happy to have all four of them around me as I embarked on my first mission.

That sounded so official and soldier-like. In a completely contradictory reaction, I had the urge to giggle madly as a wave of giddiness swept over me. Somehow, I managed to control the urge and kept my expression serious until the inappropriate humor had faded. Then I locked down my expression and tried to become all business. I refused to endanger any of the men from my own careless stupidity.

"We've been scavenging houses, looking for supplies left behind by people who died. We're going to continue that today. Stay close to Jamar," said Shane. "He's your partner in this. We're all here, but he's your tether. You don't leave his side. Understand?"

I nodded, responding to the firm command instinctively. I'd heard it in a slightly softened way sometimes while making love with him, but it was the first time I'd heard the full-on Captain-mode to directed at me. I couldn't help but respond. I nearly even saluted.

We started with the house closest to the Humvee, and I stuck close to Jamar, as ordered. The house didn't appear to have been disturbed, but whoever had owned it hadn't kept much on hand. Either that, or they'd depleted most of their food stores before they got sick. It was difficult to tell, because it was getting harder to determine who had gone out in the first or the second wave with the level of decay ramped up due to the passage of time.

It looked like someone in the first bedroom had died all alone, but I couldn't tell if she'd bled out first. The room was hot and humid and disgusting, accelerating the progression of decay until there wasn't much left to identify. I only knew it was a woman because of the frilly once-white gown, now painted with her bodily fluids, draping the corpse.

Jamar directed me to check the closet as he went to the nightstands, and I did so. She must have lived alone, or at least hadn't shared this room with anyone, because the closet was full of female clothes. She was bigger than me, but we shared a close enough shoe size that I was able to find a pair of boots I could put back for reserves. They looked like they'd had very little use, so that was a good find. There was also a raincoat and a heavier coat, and I took both. The nights were starting to get cooler, and the days were too. Today, I wore a sweater, which provided plenty of protection from the chill in the air, but it wouldn't be long before I'd need a coat, and I hadn't found any at the big-box store. It had been the wrong season for that when the virus had hit full force.

We rendezvoused with Shane and Wesley in the kitchen, and Han emerged from the pantry a moment later. He was holding a box of powdered milk, and that was about it. I looked at Shane, arching a brow, and he shook his head. I took it to mean they'd had little luck with this house.

After leaving that house, we stopped long enough to return the items to the Humvee before continuing on. It was a clunky system, and I wished I had a shopping cart or one of those flat ones they used at Home Depot for larger items. I imagined there wasn't room to haul one practically with the Humvee, but it'd be nice if I could find a basket that folded up or something.

It took us two hours to clear ten houses, and then we returned to the Humvee for a light morning snack, so we could keep going. I chewed my very hard jerky and washed it down with water as I psyched myself for the next part of the mission. We'd spotted a drugstore a block-and-a-half over, and that was our next destination. I could tell they didn't expect to find much, but I was hopeful there'd be something useful.

As I was quickly discovering, runs were mostly boring and tedious, mixed with a strong dose of hard labor. How I missed the days when I could pick up the phone and call for pizza, and someone would bring it to my door. Looking after ourselves for everything really sucked.

After our snack, Wesley moved the SUV closer to the drugstore. We wanted to make a quick escape if necessary. When we pulled up to the parking lot, it was filled with cars, but they all appeared deserted. A few held dead bodies, and I wondered if they'd come to the drugstore, desperate and sick, hoping to find something to magically cure them, but had been too weak to get out of the car when they arrived. It was a sad thought, to die in front of the drugstore and have no one around to bury you or dispose of your body in at least a semi-appropriate way.

We moved in tight formation, the men surrounding me, and I felt safer for that. I slipped into soldier-mode, trying to block out any unwanted thoughts and focus solely on the task ahead of us.

We stepped inside, and the stench hit me. I turned to the side and threw up before I could stop myself, and when I stood up, no one said anything. Shane just held out a baby wipe so I could clean my face, and Han extended the Vicks again. I dabbed a generous amount under my nose.

Someone had died in here. A lot of someones, and the smell was terrible.

We were pleasantly surprised to find a lot of the shelves at least half-stocked. Apparently, a lot of people in this area had succumbed to the first wave of the virus, dying before they'd had a chance to do much plundering or foraging.

I think I got too complacent simply because the smell was so awful. I couldn't imagine anybody could actually live here surrounded by that stench, with bodies decomposing in various places throughout the store. More than once, we had to step over or around a body blocking the path, which remained where it had fallen. I was certain no one would live with dead bodies, but I was wrong.

No one was careless, and no one dropped their guard, but I think we were all fairly confident we were alone. It was my mistake that gave him the opening though. One moment, I was standing near Jamar, who was looking at antacids. I decided a cart would be more practical to collect additional items, and we should be able to fit two carts' worth of supplies into the Humvee.

Without a word of parting, I went to grab a second cart. I was almost back to my tether, having left his side without a second thought, when someone grabbed my arm and jerked me against them. There was a knife pressed to my throat, and tight arms held me immobile. He smelled almost as bad as the dead bodies he was sharing space with, and my already-upset stomach churned again, leading me to vomit on both of us.

Whoever held me cursed, and he had a deep male voice. I'd already figured he was a man, certain of that by the hairy arms. I tried to pull away, and the knife edged closer to my throat. I whimpered when it stung, indicating he had just cut me, though I didn't know if that was an accident or on purpose.

"Let her go now," shouted Jamar.

The welcome sound of feet running accompanied his words, and the other three came into view. My heart rate accelerated at the sight of them, and I was certain I'd make it out of this.

"You can take whatever you want out of the store, but I'm keeping her. I think that's a fair trade, since you came into my home and started robbing me." He spoke in a raspy grunt, and I wasn't certain if that was his normal tone, or if it was just rusty from disuse.

"We didn't know it was your house. I figured with the dead bodies strewn around no one would live here," said Wesley, his disgust obvious. "Release Alyssa."

"We'll just go. We'll leave everything, since this is your space. Nobody's trying to encroach on your territory," said Shane, sounding reasonable. "Just let go of Lyss, and we can all walk away from this with no problem."

"Fuck you," said my captor. "I'm keeping Lyss. You can't just have the only woman around and not expect to share her."

I jerked against him, trying to pull myself free in spite of the knife against my neck. I didn't stop until it cut through again, making me cry out as warm blood flowed down my throat. I didn't think he'd cut me deeply enough to puncture my jugular or kill me, but it was still frightening and disconcerting to feel the blood oozing down my skin.

We were clearly at a stalemate, and Shane was the one who solved it. He drew his firearm and shot the man holding me. It was a good thing my lover had excellent aim, or the bullet would have killed me too. As it was, I felt it whistling by my ear in a hot path, too close for comfort. Before I could stop myself, hysterics took over, and I passed out cold.

# Chapter Thirteen

I woke up a few minutes later, still on the floor of the drugstore, though I noticed my assailant was nowhere near me. After shooting him, they must have dragged him away. I was cradled in Jamar's arms, and I smiled up at him, though it was a bit shaky. "Did I pass out like a pansy?"

He grinned at me. "Down for the count, sugar."

I took that as a good sign, because if I were seriously injured, he wouldn't be joking with me. My neck stung like fire though, and I brought up a hand to touch the wound. My fingers came away slick with blood, and I winced. "He really got me good."

"Nah, I've seen worse. Hell, I've done worse while shaving."

"How is she?" barked Han as boots moved toward our direction. Wesley had been in the peripheral of my vision the entire time, but he'd hung back. Now, Han and Shane bore down on me, and I was reassured by their presence, but something in Han's eyes sent a spark through me. Was it fear or something more? I couldn't read his expression well enough to tell what he was feeling or thinking.

"She's doing all right. Did you find the steri-strips and the gauze pads?"

Shane held out a first-aid kit that Jamar took and sat down beside us on the floor. "For a drugstore, there aren't many drug-related items left. I had to go into the backroom. I think you'll find everything you need in the first-aid kit, but the bandage aisle is pretty sparse."

Abruptly, the stench hit me again, and I started to gag. I could see the fear on the faces around me, and I figured they thought I was having some sort of reaction to the injury. I did my best to get control of the nausea and lifted my hand. "I'm all right," I said in a thick voice. "Just noticed the odor again. I think my Vicks must've rubbed off. How the hell was that guy living here?"

"He was practically an animal," said Han. "Maybe he thought surrounding himself with the dead was a good way to camouflage his presence. It worked, but at what cost? How could he have any kind of life living here?"

Shane's lips compressed into a tight line. "Frankly, I don't give a crap about what kind of life he had, and I'm just glad it's over. The moment he put his hands on Lyss, he signed his death warrant."

Han nodded before turning away. "Why don't we see what else we can scavenge? We might as well try to salvage what we can, if there's something to find."

"What's his problem?" asked Wesley as he moved closer.

Jamar gave him a look that seemed to call him a dumbass with his gaze. He didn't bother replying as he shook his head before turning his attention to me. "It's going to hurt when I pull the edges together. I'm sorry, sugar."

I nodded, preparing myself for the pain. It was sharp, but thankfully brief. He secured the wound with a few steri-strips before covering it all with the gauze pad and tape. Clearly, I was in no danger of bleeding out, and my assailant hadn't nicked the artery. I was going to have a sore neck for a few days, but I'd live. Considering the alternative, it was a good outcome.

After I was on my feet, they refused to let me help strip the store. I was assigned to walk beside Shane, pushing the cart and holding on to it in a death grip, in case I felt dizzy and needed to pass out again. I knew they were being solicitous, but it was kind of irritating to be babied like that. I couldn't imagine any of the four of them would have been expected to trail behind the cart if they'd gotten a minor wound on the neck.

Then again, none of them probably would have passed out like a weakling from the shock of it all. Perhaps none of them would have been in the situation to start with. I didn't know what I could have done differently, not even having realized he was in the store until he grabbed me, but I was feeling woefully inadequate by the time we finished finding everything of use in the store and stowing it in the Humvee.

Seated between Han and Shane on the way back, I glanced at Han once or twice, but he was always staring pointedly out the window. His posture was hard, and he seemed angry. I wasn't certain if he was angry with me or the situation. Perhaps he was still angered by the guy who'd stabbed me slipping past our defenses. I wasn't certain, and it wasn't productive to speculate. He was too angry for me to ask, because I was certain he'd snap some kind of vague retort and not answer in a real fashion. I'd have to wait until later if I wanted to know why he was acting this way, but I hoped he'd get over it by the time we got back to the base.

I cuddled against Shane, letting myself feel the sting of the wound and the belated surge of renewed pain that I'd been trying to block out mentally as we moved through the store with a job to do. I'd kept up my tough soldier façade, but I could feel it crumbling now. I trembled occasionally, and when I did, my lover's arms tightened around me more, until I was half on his lap and half on the seat.

I refused to fall apart in front of them, and I tried to tell myself there was no reason to anyway. I'd survived, Shane had shot him, and it was over. There was no reason to get all weepy about everything now. I was acting like an emotional mess. The men around me would never have this reaction. They were stronger and tougher than I was. They were all hardwired for survival, and I was still a scared young woman playing soldier.

I let myself cry, but I turned my face to nestle against Shane's chest, trying to get a handle on the tremors racking my body. He rubbed my arm in a gentle fashion, but he didn't speak. What was the point? Anything he might say would only be comforting, but useless, platitudes. He couldn't promise something like this wouldn't happen again, and he couldn't protect me. I had to protect myself, and I'd failed today. After working so hard and feeling fairly confident in my newfound abilities, it was a crushing blow to realize I was almost as pathetic and useless as I'd been the first day they'd met me.

I had two options. I could give up and hide away on the base, letting my men take care of me like a spoiled pet. I was certain they wouldn't insist on me joining on runs now that I was involved with Shane and Jamar. They would protect me either way, but that put me in a powerless position, one where I was a reward or commodity, rather than a fully functioning and independent member of the team. I didn't like that idea at all. The only other option was to train harder and become more capable as quickly as possible. That was a far more appealing idea, and I was determined to make myself stronger, so I wouldn't end up in the victim role again.

# Chapter Fourteen

Neither Shane nor Jamar would allow me to get frisky that night, citing blood loss and fear of tearing my steri-strips, so I was resigned to a frustrating night. I still slept well between them, but I missed the closeness we usually shared before bed. I understood they were trying to take care of me, which only reminded me of my decision to become capable of taking care of myself. It was all right to ask for help, but relying on someone else all the time in this new world was likely to get me killed.

Surprisingly, I woke up before either of them. My neck was stinging, and I had to use the bathroom. I crept out of bed, carefully disentangling from the limbs wrapped around me, and slipped into clothes to head to the bathroom. After doing my business, I washed my hands and tucked my hair into a bun. I still hadn't summoned the nerve to cut it, but I knew I had to soon. Keeping it up was only a temporary measure, and it could still be used against me in a fight.

I was definitely up for the day, though earlier than my usual rising time. There was no point trying to sleep again, because I was too wide-awake. Instead, I decided to get an early start on my day and made my way to the gym, where I headed for the running track.

I stretched and warmed up a bit before beginning a light jog, soon increasing my pace until I was sprinting around the track. I was on my fourth lap when I heard cursing. I jerked and stumbled to a stop as I saw Han striding toward me. He was clearly angry and cursing up a blue streak. "What's wrong? Are we under attack?" It seemed like an unlikely possibility, but I couldn't think of any other reason why he'd be so worked up, looking almost panicked.

"No, we're not under attack, except maybe by your stupidity. Dafuck are you doing?"

I took a step back at the harsh words and frowned up at him. "What does it look like? I'm doing my morning routine." Granted, the routine usually didn't include a screaming match with Han, so that was different.

"You have a wound on your neck that could pop open. You could bleed to death here and die before any of us found you. Do you have any common sense in that head of yours? You shouldn't be running today. You shouldn't be in here alone."

My own anger was rising, and I glared at him. "I'm not an idiot. If it had hurt or started to bleed when I began running, I would have stopped. It didn't, and I'm fine. I passed out because I was a weakling, not because the injury was severe. There's no reason to milk the victim scenario. I need to function and fall into my usual routine."

"You need to take care of yourself. What the fuck would we do if you died?"

The words were angry, but for the first time, I could see the vulnerability beneath them. I realized with a start that this was all because he was worried about me, not because he was being a gigantic tool. I let my voice soften a little, but maintained a firm tone. "Let me decide for myself what I'm capable of and what I'm not. I'm fine."

"We almost lost you." His bronze skin paled, and he swayed for a moment before his hands clamped around my biceps and pulled me against him. " _I_ nearly lost you."

I was confused by the emotions I saw darting across his face. I didn't know what he wanted from me, or how I should react. Ever since the day he'd rejected me, Han seemed to go out of his way to avoid me as much as possible. It had hurt at first, and it still did sometimes, but I'd tried to accept his decision gracefully, and I certainly hadn't pursued him or kept up a steady line of flirtation. I'd simply turned my attention to Shane and Jamar and tried to forget taking Han as a lover.

"You have to take better care of yourself. We'd be lost without you."

His tone was calmer, and some of my tension faded away. "Thanks. I doubt that, but thank you for saying it."

He frowned at me. "Why do you doubt what I'm telling you?"

I rolled my eyes. "You're all soldiers, and I'm the pathetic weakling nipping at your heels. You don't need me, and from a survival viewpoint, you'd probably be better off without the weakest link on your team."

Han scowled at me. "You're not the weakest link. You were a civilian before this, and a teenager to boot. You're expecting too much of yourself too quickly."

I shrugged a shoulder, refusing to be reassured by his words. "I don't have the luxury of time or easing my way into survival, at least not now. I have to learn how to take care of myself."

"We'll take care of you."

I gave him a soft smile, but my tone remained firm. "I know you will, or you'll try, but you can't always protect me all the time. I need to be able to do things for myself and keep myself alive. It's not just practicality, but also part of my self-worth. I can't be relegated to the background, staying here in the safety of the base while you're all out there risking your lives. It isn't right or fair. Being weak gets you killed in the world we're living in now."

"You're so stubborn." It was a criticism, but his gentle expression took the sting out of it. "I'm not saying give up or stop, but do cut yourself some slack."

I shrugged again. "We'll see." I had no intention of doing as he suggested. I needed to train smarter and longer to attain my goals. He wouldn't tell an Olympian to cut themselves some slack before the games, and though he meant well, his words were more unsettling than comforting. If I bought into them, they would undermine my confidence and weaken me further.

When I stepped away from him, preparing to run again, he cursed. I looked at him. "Now what?"

"Didn't anything I said get through to you? Take the damn day off, Lyss."

I frowned. "There's no day off in the apocalypse." It was a flip answer, but it was also the truth.

"You're going to kill yourself before anyone else can do the job for you. Do you understand how important you are?"

I shook my head. "Like I said, if I died tomorrow, you'd all carry on without me. Shane and Jamar would probably miss me for a while, but none of you need me." As I said the words, I realized that was part of my determination to look after myself. I wanted them to need me on a fundamental level, in a way that was deeper than just as a bed partner or someone who prepared dinner while they were on runs. I wanted to be an asset to the team, and I wanted to take care of them as much as they were taking care of me.

"It wouldn't be just Jamar and Shane."

The words are so faint, I barely heard them. I leaned closer. "What?"

He cleared his throat, looking awkward, though he was still clearly angry. "I said it wouldn't be just Jamar and Shane who'd mourn your loss. I don't know how Wesley feels, and I can't speak for him, but losing you would destroy me."

I frowned, my confusion returning. Talk about blowing hot and cold. "That's not... I mean... Damn, you're frustrating. You made it clear you didn't want me, so what's all this now? What do you want from me?"

His arms wrapped around me, his mouth slanting hungrily over mine. There was no chance to resist or refuse the kiss, even if I'd been inclined to do so—which I definitely wasn't. I'd been wanting this for so long, and it had a dreamlike quality as his mouth ravished mine. The kiss was long and intense, our tongues dueling as though we were fighting rather than kissing. The whole encounter had an adversarial element about it, but it was unbelievably hot.

When we broke apart, we were both gasping for air. I'm sure my eyes reflected my confusion, along with a strong dose of arousal. "What do you want from me?" I asked again, softly this time.

"I want you to be mine. I want to keep you with me all the time, and I want to claim you as my territory. That's what I want, but I know that's not what you want. I thought it had to be an all-or-nothing situation. I was sure I couldn't stand back and share you with my brothers-in-arms, so I figured it was better not to have any of you at all if I couldn't have all of it."

I nodded. "I got the gist of this the day you rejected me."

He winced, but didn't respond to that. "Seeing you yesterday in that fucker's arms, that knife against your throat, I realized I'd rather have part of you than none of you. I've never been the kind of guy who shares my woman, but if that's what it takes to have any of you, I'm willing to share you with Shane and Jamar."

I hesitated, uncertain how to reply for a moment. I wanted him. I really wanted him and had since the beginning, but I wasn't sure he could handle the situation. There'd been some adjustment between Shane and Jamar, but we'd all settled into a shared relationship with surprising ease. That was because we all wanted it and were open-minded enough to work out the kinks.

I just wasn't certain he could really let go of his need to own me, to keep me as his woman exclusively. "It's not that I don't want you, Han, but I need to make sure we're really on the same page. I don't play favorites. If we get involved, in a way you're also entering a relationship with Shane and Jamar."

He frowned. "They're fucking each other?"

I shook my head. "No, it's not like that, but it's also more than fucking. We're involved emotionally, and that means you have to think of them as much as you think of me. Whether it's your turn in my bed, or we're all together at the same time, it's a group effort, and we're a team. I can't and won't choose or try to treat one of you better than the others. Can you promise me you won't turn it into a pissing contest, where you're trying to claim me and steal me away from the other two men I lo...am involved with?"

I wasn't quite ready to use the "L" word. I hadn't even broached the topic with Shane or Jamar themselves, so I couldn't tell Han before I told them I was reasonably certain I was heading down that path, if I hadn't arrived there already.

He gritted his teeth. "I can promise to try. That's all I can do. This is hard for me. I had seven brothers and sisters, and I had to share every damn thing I ever had until I left to join the Corps. I never thought in a million years sharing would include my woman. But I'm trying. I'm trying because I want to be with you, and I want you to be happy. I want Shane and Jamar to be happy too. I care about all of you, but I'm not fucking either one of them." He added the last part with a slight twitch of his lips.

I grinned at him, pushing aside my reservations. I wasn't certain it would work out, and if it didn't, it could lead to disaster that split the group, but life was too short, especially now, to ignore the opportunity and continue denying both of us what we really wanted, which was each other.

"Let's give it a shot." I bit my lip, torn between the urge to throw myself in his arms and enjoy another one of those earthshattering kisses, and the need to discuss this with Shane and Jamar first. Decency won out over desire, and I took a regretful step back. "I need to talk to them first."

He seems surprised. "I thought you were open or whatever you call the relationship term?"

I shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure what you'd call this kind of relationship. It's not like we're fucking just anyone. We're monogamous with each other, and I need to talk to them before you and I become lovers. I'm not asking their permission, but I want to make sure they know about the change in status. It's only right."

I remembered how hurt and jealous Shane had been when I talked to him after sleeping with Jamar instead of beforehand, and that was before we started to become emotionally involved on a deeper level. They didn't have the right to tell me I couldn't introduce Han to the equation, but they had the right to leave the relationship if they chose to and didn't want to head this direction. It was a risk, but I figured it was better to talk to them first before giving in to the compulsions pulsing inside me. "I'll find you after I've talked to them, okay?"

He seemed like he wanted to argue, but instead his shoulders slumped, and he let out a sigh. "Are you going to go find them now?"

I wasn't sure if it was because he was so eager to have me, or he just wanted me to stop my workout, because he was fussing over me like I was a little old lady. "After I finish my run."

His lips clamped into a disapproving line. "You're too stubborn."

I winked at him. "Coming from you, I consider that a compliment, babe." I returned to the track and started running again as Han stretched before joining me. I was pleased I was keeping up with him much better than I used to, and though he passed me a couple of times, we were mostly running side-by-side. That was all I could ask for in this crazy world.

# Chapter Fifteen

I didn't get a chance to talk to Shane and Jamar until bedtime. There'd always been something going on, or we hadn't been together in the same room. It wasn't exactly dinner conversation I could bring up with Han and Wesley sitting right there, so I'd chosen to wait. Now, after our nightly round of loving, I laid between them, feeling sated and slightly exhausted.

It was as though they'd had to make up for missing last night, because they had put me through the paces and then some. They looked equally blissed out and exhausted, and I hoped it was a good time to broach the subject.

I licked my lips. "I have something to talk to you to about."

"What's that, sugar?" asked Jamar, sounding sleepy.

"You remember when our relationship started, I was interested in Han too? At the time, he told me he couldn't share, so I gave up on the idea. I've been happy with just the two of you, but Han told me today he wants to try sharing me as well. I wanted to see how you both felt about putting Han into the mix."

They both stiffened, and their previous contentment faded abruptly. Jamar, usually the voice of reason, had a calm tone when he replied, "I don't know. I don't like the idea of sharing you. It was hard enough to do it with Shane, and we have a good thing going here."

I nodded my agreement. He wasn't wrong at all. We did have a good thing, that whether or not it was selfish on my part, I couldn't help thinking Han would make an even better thing. I hadn't been pining for him or consoling myself with the two men I was with while waiting for the guy I really wanted.

If that had been the case, I would have dropped Shane and Jamar when Han issued the ultimatum of all or nothing. I just knew there was a little something missing, and it was inside me. I needed all three of them to feel whole and complete, but I couldn't figure out how to verbalize that without sounding like I was trying to diminish Shane and Jamar's roles in my life.

"I don't like it either," said Shane. "He made his choice, and now he thinks he can just change his mind weeks after we've established our routine?"

I licked my lips, trying to proceed delicately. "It was because I was injured yesterday. He realized how much I mean to him, and it helped him understand that he'd rather have part of me than none of me."

I took both their hands in mine. "I'd like to think you both know that when I'm with you, you get all of me. It's not a case of part of me. Han doesn't understand that yet, but I'm hoping he would if he joins us. I have plenty of attention for all three of you, and I never want to leave any of you feeling like you didn't get all of me."

Jamar let out a soft sigh. "Sugar, when you put it like that, how can I tell you no? I don't feel like you love me any less or need me any less just because you need Shane too. As long as Han can adapt, I'm willing to give it a try."

I turned to look at Shane after squeezing Jamar's hand, knowing he was the holdout. I could see he was conflicted, and I held my breath as I awaited his response.

"I still don't like it, but that's the part of me that doesn't like sharing you with anyone, even Jamar. If this is what you want, if it'll make you happy, I'm okay with it. I just want to make you happy."

I squeezed his hand, bringing it to my mouth to brush my lips against his knuckles. "It will make me happy, I think, but I want you to be happy too. I want all of you to be happy."

His expression softened. "I am happy, and I'm sure Jamar feels the same way. I'm just afraid of upsetting the balance we have here. I don't want you to fall for him and leave us."

I shook my head, clinging to both their hands. "I would never leave either one of you. I'm not substituting him for you, and I haven't been biding my time while I waited for him to come around to my way of thinking. Until today, I had given up on the idea of a relationship with Han. You don't need to feel like you've been second-best or a filler while I waited for him."

He looked startled by the idea. "I never thought that at all."

I let out a small breath of relief as Jamar cupped my hip, rubbing his thumb lightly down my flank. "I never felt that way either, sugar."

I snuggled closer to them, feeling better about the situation. Shane, Jamar, and I were on the same page. I just had to make sure Han was as well. So far, he'd been reading from a completely different book, and it was going to be the hardest adjustment for him out of the four of us. I hoped I was worth it to him, because I was certain he would be worth the introduction of angst and more complications once they were all sorted out.

I woke early again the next morning and made my way to the running track. I was unsurprised to find Han there already, tearing up track as he ran full tilt. It was an impressive sight, especially since he'd stripped off his shirt, and my stomach churned with excitement. I was finally going to make love with Han. I'd never expected this to happen, and I wanted the first time to be just the two of us. It had been that way for Shane and Jamar, and I meant it when I'd said I was approaching this in a fair and balanced way. I wanted to make sure the men were as satisfied and happy with the arrangement as I was.

He slowed his jog to match my pace when I joined him on the track, but we didn't speak as we ran. We exchanged heated glances, and halfway through, I paused to strip off my own tank top, tossing it toward his. I continued running in shorts and a bra, aware of his hungry gaze watching every bounce of my breasts.

We didn't have a set goal in mind, and we just ran. I don't know how many laps we did, because I didn't count for a change. I was too caught up in looking at him and speaking without words.

Abruptly, halfway through the lap, he pulled me into his arms and pushed me against the wall more roughly than I'd expected. Fortunately, it was padded and absorbed the impact easily without hurting me. Before I could say anything, he pinned me against him, his hands going into my hair. He pulled impatiently at the pins I'd used to keep the bun up, spilling my dark strands around both of us. "I love your hair. I keep dreaming about wrapping it around my hand and holding you with your mouth against my cock as you suck me off."

There was an edge of command to his words, and I found myself sinking to my knees, eager to fulfill his fantasy and finding the idea of him telling me what to do a turn-on. I wasn't sure I'd always want him to boss me around, but it felt good at the moment, as long as he didn't try to take it too far.

His gym shorts slipped down easily, and his cock sprang free. It was thick and erect, straining upward as though seeking out my mouth on its own accord. I bent my head to roll my tongue around the tip, hearing him moan as his hand in my hair tightened. A moment later, he tugged me forward using my hair. It was a little uncomfortable, but it was surprisingly sexy too.

It increased my own arousal to have him directing me to take his cock into my mouth, not too slowly and not too fast. He felt every inch when I engulfed him, and we both moaned when he was as deep inside me as he could go. I wrapped my hand around the base, bridging the distance between what could fit in my mouth and what couldn't, and began to bob my head as I sucked him. His hand remained firmly twined in my hair, and he pushed my head forward gently with each thrust of his hips. He clearly liked to be in control, and I was okay with that, at least in the bedroom. It was surprisingly erotic to be at someone else's command.

I continued to please him, swirling my tongue and sucking as his cock started to twitch. I prepared myself for his cum, but instead he pulled away from me. He didn't release my hair, but he used his other hand to cup his erection and press on the underside of the tip, clearly holding back his orgasm.

I shivered with anticipation when he dropped to his knees before me, hands in my hair as he dragged my mouth closer to his. It was another one of those ravenous kisses, the kind that consumed and burned brightly, stealing all my oxygen and replacing it with pure heat that pooled in my abdomen and spread lower. If I could come from kissing, it would have been a kiss like that.

When he broke away, he wasn't breathing harshly, though I was. His lips moved down my face, pausing to nibble at my neck before sucking some of my flesh between his teeth. I was certain to have a hickey, and I suspected that was deliberate on his part. He wanted to leave a mark on me, to show I was his.

Maybe I should have been concerned, afraid of it being a sign of ownership, but at the moment, it was just damn sexy. Feeling the need to do the same, I stretched forward and bit his shoulder hard enough to leave teeth imprints, though I didn't draw blood. He growled low in his throat, and I wasn't certain if he was angered or turned on by my response. Just to be sure, I bit him again.

Suddenly, I was flat on my back on the mat, and he was looming over me with a wild look in his eyes. He clearly needed me right then, and it sent a shiver through me. I did want to be needed, and though I preferred to be needed for more than my bedroom skills, I was fine with that being at the top of his list at the moment. I needed him too.

He kicked off his gym shorts, and I lifted my hips to help him remove mine as well. His fingers were on the rough side, but he didn't hurt me. He was just driven by the need to have me, and the hunger was probably even worse for him, because he'd gone several months without having sex.

But this was more than sex. This was consecrating our union, sealing the agreement we'd made.

He parted my thighs and surged inside me, and though I'd had no preparation, not even his fingers stroking my clit first, I was wet and ready for him. I locked my thighs around him and held him close as he began to thrust in and out of me in a rapid pace. He was making a harsh sound with each plunge inside me, and his breathing was erratic. He reminded me of a raging bull. If I'd had any fear of him, it would have come to the forefront then.

I found nothing but the same raw hunger, and my fingers fumbled when I opened the front clasp of my bra, finally getting the hook undone to let my breasts spill free.

He made that sexy growling sound again as his gaze feasted on my breasts for a moment before his head lowered. He took one in a rough kiss, sucking hard before flicking his tongue over the tip of my nipple. I arched my back and writhed against him, lifting my hips to meet his frantic pace. He was filling me to the point of almost too much, but it was hitting all the right places inside me, ratcheting up my arousal and bringing me closer to the edge of coming with each thrust.

He turned his rough attention to my other breast, biting me gently before moving his tongue to trace a circle around my nipple before latching on lightly with his teeth and tugging. Knowing it would make him lose control, I strained to reach him, managing to sink my teeth into his shoulder. He jerked and growled again, and his hips moved even more rapidly.

I'd probably be sore from this rough fucking later, but I couldn't regret it now. It was amazing and sent me over the edge into climax. A keening sound escaped me, and I couldn't seem to shut it off as I came, my sheath twitching and convulsing around him for what felt like the longest orgasm of my life. Though it couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, it was so intense that it felt like years.

With a hoarse grunt, he plunged as deeply inside me as he could get when his own orgasm washed over him. His shaft twitched inside me, and then the first spurts of his release filled me. He seemed to come forever too, though I knew time was simply distorted by pleasure.

Afterward, we rolled apart, but still lay together side-by-side on the mat. I was breathing deeply, and might breasts were literally heaving from the rapid movement of my chest. It made me giggle.

He turned his head to look at me, surprise and confusion evident his expression. "You found that funny?"

I shook my head. "No, I was just thinking I have heaving bosoms. I could be in one of those pirate romances."

He shook his head, clearly not as amused as me. "Did I hurt you?"

I took a moment to evaluate my physical state, noting there was some discomfort in my pussy, and my nipple throbbed where he'd bitten it. "A little, but in a good way. Did I hurt you?" My gaze dropped to the bites visible on his neck and shoulder. I must have gotten pretty deep, because I could still see the purple teeth marks, though there was no blood.

"Yeah, but in a good way," he repeated. "You should know biting makes me hot. I like to bite, but it's even better to be bitten. It makes me lose control."

Maybe it was supposed to be a warning, but I just filed it away for future reference. Most of the time, I preferred gentle and slow, but sometimes, I liked a good, rough fuck as much as the next woman.

"Now what? Do I move into your room too?"

I shrugged a shoulder. "You should do what feels right. If you want to join us, we can put another mattress in there. We could squeeze in a twin and make it a super king-size. If you'd rather stay in your own bunk and keep you and me separate from and me, Shane, and Jamar, at least for now, that's fine too. As long as you're not in denial about the fact that I'm also involved with them, we can make this work. What do you want to do?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I need some time before I'm ready to see the reality of sharing you with them. Is that all right?"

I nodded. "It's fine. Seriously, whatever makes you happy will make me happy too, as long as we're all thinking of each other when making decisions."

"I have to admit I'm only thinking about you at the moment." His expression had taken on that edge of hunger again, and I wasn't at all surprised when he reached over and lifted me onto his lap, my thighs straddling his. "I'm thinking about all the things I could do with you, and all the ways I'd like to take you."

I grinned down at him, bracing my palms on his chest as I tugged lightly at the dusting of hair covering him. "Why don't you show me some of those things you have in mind?"

# Chapter Sixteen

All too soon, we were back to our regular routine. I was miffed when they originally weren't going to allow me to go on the next run. I stood my ground, insisting I was fine and in top physical form, other than the cut on my neck. When Jamar had removed the bandage and the steri-strips, he'd declared I was healing nicely and hadn't bothered putting on more strips when he changed the bandage. When I won him over, the rest fell like dominoes, and I soon returned to my spot with the group.

We had two weeks of uneventful runs, which was pretty good considering where we were going each day. We were moving farther afield, entering new territory, and I should have known our luck wouldn't hold. It never did.

We were in a smaller town near the Wyoming-Montana border, searching the local farm supply store. There were quite a few items that could be of use if we ended up moving off the base in the spring, as they were discussing. The idea of leaving the safety of our sanctuary terrified me, but I also understood the need to have a place where we could grow food and raise animals.

We couldn't do that very easily at the base. Even if we moved into the warehouse section, there just wasn't enough land and fence. The size of the base extended a couple of miles in every direction underneath the ground, but the main setup had been utilitarian and designed to look like a warehouse on a commercial lot. The fence encompassed only a small part of the base's actual perimeter, and they all felt it was too small.

Finding enough fencing to extend the perimeter might be difficult, so they were inclined to look for a new farm that already had everything we needed in place. I still thought we could make it work at the base, and I was trying to convince them of that, but part of my determination was motivated by fear of leaving the safety of the underground military base and trading it for a regular farmhouse.

We all froze when we heard a cry for help. It was a very feminine cry, and the men immediately headed toward the source of the sound. I followed, my hand on my gun. What if it was a trap? Had someone planned to ambush us? Were my teammates running into a trap because they needed to play hero? I shouldn't be so derisive. If they hadn't played hero for me, I wouldn't be here now.

I wasn't proud of the fact, but I probably wouldn't have been so suspicious if it had been a male shout. I didn't want to introduce a female into our group. I liked being the only one, though I knew that was selfish, especially for Wesley. He seemed cool about the whole thing, and we were still friends, but I could tell it had bothered him when he realized Han and I were now involved as well. I just didn't feel a spark for him, no matter how attractive he was, which must have made him feel shitty. I couldn't force what I didn't feel though.

It proved to be a genuine damsel-in-distress. We followed the source of the cries, finding a slightly rundown house and pinpointing it as the location. We moved in carefully, the men securing me in the middle of the group. It made sense, since I had the least amount of experience and had never swept an area under circumstances like these. I did as I was told, sticking with the group as we entered the house.

"Help," came the cry again.

"Who's there?" asked Jamar.

"Help me, please. I'm stuck in the attic."

"Who's there and how many?" asked Jamar again, this time in a booming voice.

She sounded like she was going to cry, if she wasn't doing so already. "Just...just me," she said in a shaky voice. "It's been just me for months. Please help me."

They were cautious, as was I, but the house was empty, and when we made our way to the attic, we discovered she was telling the truth. It looked like she had fallen through the ceiling and gotten stuck, probably from stepping on insulation rather than the boards. Wesley used his hunting knife to cut around her, and Jamar went into the attic to help lower her down. Shane took her into his arms, and she cuddled against him as she trembled.

My heart sank at the sight of another woman in my man's arms. It was innocent, but she was just so striking and lovely, and she was so openly vulnerable that I didn't understand how Shane could fail to be moved by the look of hero-worship she bestowed upon him. With her silvery blonde curls and baby-blue eyes, she looked like an angel. A dirty, smudged angel, but an angel just the same.

"What were you doing up there?" asked Han.

"I heard the Gables family used to hide food in their attic. They were peppers or something. I was hoping to find something to eat. I'm just so hungry, and there's nothing left in town."

Jamar patted her shoulder as he returned from the attic. "It's okay. We have some food."

"Oh, thank you. I haven't eaten in three days, so I got desperate. I don't think the Gables were peppers after all though. I didn't find anything in the attic."

" _Preppers_." I stressed the correction. "The attic would have been a terrible place to keep supplies," I said firmly. "If your ceiling rotted through, everything could be destroyed or contaminated, and the dry heat could hasten spoilage. If the Gables family was into preparation, they probably kept their stores in a cool, dark place, like a basement."

Her expression chilled when she met mine, and it was obvious she hadn't realized I was there, or I was a woman, until now. Either way, I could see the gleam of dislike flash across her features and disappear. It was clear she didn't like the idea of another woman in the group any more than I did. "I didn't know," she said a haughty voice. "I'm not a soldier."

"Neither was I until this mess," I said with a shrug. "You have to be smarter and toughen up, or you're going to die."

Her lips trembled, and tears spilled from her eyes. "Are you threatening me?" She clung to Shane. "Please don't let her hurt me. Please, let me stay with you. I'll do whatever you want, but don't kill me."

I rolled my eyes, unable to watch more of the unfolding drama. I turned away from them, leaving the safety of the group, though it wasn't the smartest thing I'd ever done. I heard Shane reassuring her as I walked away that no one was going to hurt her, and I hadn't meant it that way.

He promised they'd take her back to the base and get her settled and safe. I guessed there was no group discussion or vote on that. I had no hesitation on how I would have voted, which was to leave her behind. Maybe that was cold and cruel, but I was certain only one thing was going to come from bringing her onto base.

Trouble.

# Chapter Seventeen

She just wouldn't shut up. Kassandra, whose name I had learned when I met up with the group back at the Humvee to recruit help loading the cases and cases of food stores I'd found in the Gables' basement, just prattled on and on. At first, I had some sympathy, especially since her story was eerily like my own.

After losing her boyfriend and father, she'd spent the last three months hiding in the basement of a neighbor's home, since her house hadn't had one. Unlike me, she hadn't had a cache to fall back on, so she'd had to leave the safety of her shelter and scavenge. She was acting all weak and helpless, and kind of pathetic, so I was surprised she'd had the nerve to do so—or I would have been if I hadn't already realized she was manipulative and putting on an act for the men's benefit.

We were driving back now, and I kept tracing the filigree on my gun, moving my thumb over it repeatedly as I contemplated pulling Miranda from the holster and shooting myself between the eyes so I could stop hearing her incessant chatter. I was suddenly longing for those quiet days I'd spent holed up in the subbasement.

She was right beside me, planted firmly on Shane's lap. She'd latched on to him like a poisonous vine entwining everything around it. I could tell he was eating up this hero-worship bullshit and had to stifle the urge to roll my eyes. I looked up and met Wesley's in the rearview mirror, since he was driving. He winked at me, and I managed a small smile in return. He seemed as irritated as I did.

I glanced at Jamar, who was staring apathetically out the window from the passenger seat. He'd clearly found a way to tune it out, and I would have to ask him about that skill. I had a feeling I was going to need to acquire it with Kassandra around.

My attention turned to Han, whom I was leaning against, and he met my gaze and smirked slightly. I rolled my eyes in return, and he winked as well. At least he and I were on the same page when it came to our new addition.

As Kassandra rattled on, she filled us in on every single detail of her life, and not just since the outbreak of the virus. By the time we were back at base, I knew her favorite color was pink, and her kindergarten teacher's name was Mr. Daniels. I didn't even know those kind of details about the other people in my group, who I'd spent so much time with, including my lovers. It was ridiculous to have so much idle trivia shoved into my brain involuntarily.

Of course she insisted on Shane carrying her, and being the idiot man that he was, he did so without complaint. I heard her talking about wanting a shower after someone looked at her leg, as though she expected a medic to just magically appear and whisk her to the exam room. "Fucking idiot," I muttered under my breath.

Han was standing beside me, and he put his arm around my shoulders. "At least it's finally quiet."

I nodded, taking some cheer from that. "I wonder how long we're stuck with her?"

He looked uneasy. "I have a feeling she's the leech-type, babe. She'll latch on and drain us dry until the last of us has had enough."

I was impressed by his insight. "I've already had enough. Does that count?"

He smiled. "My vote's with you, but we're still outnumbered."

I felt briefly guilty for wanting to get rid of her, or wishing we had never found her in that attic. I hated the idea of anyone being alone in the new world, but I could tell she and I were going to clash in every instance. I didn't see how we could get along, and she was just going to disturb the peace of the group. I'd happily kick her off the base and drive her back to her town myself, but I was certain the others wouldn't cooperate. Even Han wouldn't allow that, because he wouldn't want me to be out there alone.

I helped unload the rest of things, and we all migrated to the mess hall. Shane and Kassandra were nowhere to be seen, and after the day we'd had, none of us felt like cooking. Instead, we distributed MREs, and Jamar thoughtfully left out a couple for Shane and Kassandra, for when they bothered to appear.

It took approximately fourteen minutes to prepare an MRE, and we were all silent as they warmed. Han sat beside me, and Wesley had dropped onto my other side. Jamar was across from me, and he looked weary. We hadn't done anything more taxing than usual, so I was certain it was Kassandra who'd worn us all down. She was like an emotional vampire, sucking the life out of everyone. None of us said that, but that's what I felt. Maybe I was just projecting.

We heard her before we saw them, and she was still talking. I stroked the hilt of my knife, snugged into my belt on the opposite side of Miranda, pulling my hand away abruptly when I realized what I was doing. Had I really just indulged in the briefest fantasy of cutting out her tongue? Yes, yes I had.

Shane was careful to place her gently on the bench before taking a seat next to her. He left a respectable distance between them, but she scooted over as though he were a magnet drawing her toward him, plastering herself against his side. I waited for him to move, but he didn't.

Jealousy seethed in me, along with a strong dose of hurt feelings. It was like I'd ceased to exist, and at first I'd thought he was just being polite, but it was obvious he liked having her draped all over him. I was concerned about what it meant for my relationship with him, and my stomach ached. If it wouldn't have been a horrible waste of food, I would have pushed aside the MRE and not bothered trying to choke it down. Instead, I persevered.

"Oh, gosh, what is this?" asked Kassandra as she tore open the package. "Is this soldier food?"

"MRE. Meals Ready-to-Eat," explained Shane. "It has a full day of calories, and there's a heating element inside. Here, I'll show you how to work it."

I rolled my eyes as he carefully walked her through every step of the MRE preparation. It was ridiculous, since they came with instructions designed to be comprehensible to anyone. She was certainly good at playing the helpless damsel.

I was almost done with my dinner, having shoveled it in as quickly as I could in an attempt to keep it down and escape Kassandra. She continued rattling on as she picked carefully at her MRE, grimacing at everything she tasted before pushing it away with a dramatic sigh. For someone who supposedly hadn't eaten in three days, she was damned picky.

I wanted to snap at her not to waste the food, but that would require interacting with her. As it was, she occasionally glared in my direction, but I was certain I was shooting daggers her way as well. She set my teeth on edge and irritated me.

It got the best of me, and I wasn't proud of it, but I lost control of my temper as she chattered on about meaningless and inconsequential things. Before I could rein in the impulse, I drew my knife and slammed it into the table, eliciting a stunned silence. I stood up, wrenching on my knife to free it as I glared at her. "We don't care. No one cares about your poodle's stupid sweater, Kassandra. The world is different, and we're here to survive. I'm tired of hearing about this crap. Just shut up for a while."

Her expression was glacial as she glared at me, but when she looked at Shane, her expression was vulnerable. She burst into tears, and I had to admire her acting ability, even though I loathed the kind of person she was.

"I'm sorry if I talk too much. I've just been alone for so long, and it's nice to have people around me to interact with. I didn't mean to offend her. Please don't let her hurt me."

I let out an irritated growl as I shoved my knife back into the sheath on my hip. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm just asking you to shut the hell up for a bit."

Shane glared at me, and his voice was cold when he said, "If you don't want to listen to her, there are other rooms in the base." He turned back to Kassandra, rubbing her shoulder in a consoling fashion. "Why don't you keep telling us about your poodle?"

"It was a Pekingese," she said in a pathetic wail. As I stalked off, she shot a triumphant glance in my direction, and if I hadn't already behaved so atrociously, I would have flipped her off on the way out the room.

I made my way to the bedroom I shared with Shane and Jamar, and for the first time, it didn't feel like mine. I knew I couldn't sleep in there with him tonight. Kassandra was likely to be in the bunkroom, so that left one of the other offices. I stopped by the bunkroom to take a mattress off one of the frames and found an office halfway down the corridor away from my usual room.

I curled up on the inadequate padding, trying to pretend it wasn't cold cement underneath me, and glared at the wall. I had acted a bit like a spoiled brat, allowing my jealousy to come through, but it wasn't strictly jealousy. I didn't like her, and I didn't trust her. She was two-faced, showing one side of herself to the men, while allowing me to see the true person.

They might think she was sweet and helpless, but I was certain she was about as helpless as a nest of vipers. She might not have the physical prowess to protect herself, but she had the keen manipulative powers necessary to infiltrate and claim an entire kingdom. I was concerned my men wouldn't be a match for her.

I'd just have to protect them from her, which meant protecting them from their own stupidity. With that in mind, I got up off the mattress and returned to the room I shared with Shane and Jamar, determined to at least try to make them see how dangerous the woman they'd rescued was.

It was a while before Jamar came in, and he greeted me with a hug and a kiss. So far, he'd avoided much interaction with Kassandra, so I hoped he might be easier to persuade.

He and I were already in bed when Shane finally entered the room, looking exhausted. I opened my mouth, prepared to explain exactly what kind of person she was, but he spoke first.

"How could you behave so rudely to our guest? She's been through hell, and having you attack her doesn't help."

My mouth fell open at the accusation, and a surge of anger filled me. I bit down hard on my tongue to keep from blurting out an annoyed retort that would do nothing to fix the situation. Instead, I took a deep breath and sat up on the mattress, keeping my gaze averted as Shane stripped down to his underwear. I didn't want to be distracted by his body at the moment. "You're right. I shouldn't have yelled at her, but she's not what you think she is."

He frowned, looking surprised. "What do I think she is?" There was definite attitude in that tone.

Still trying to rein in my temper, I said, "She's not a victim. She's not sweet and helpless. Physically, she's lacking in strength, but she has the personality of a sociopath. She'll use anyone and anything to get what she wants. Right now, she's using you."

Shane laughed, though it held little amusement. "Listen to yourself. You hardly know her. How can you make that kind of assessment?"

I rolled my eyes. "For fuck's sake, Shane, all she did was talk about herself for the last few hours. I picked up on things. I'm surprised you didn't."

His shoulders straightened. "I guess I'm just too dumb, being a soldier, to completely psychoanalyze a stranger in the course of an afternoon."

I shook my head. "She's manipulative and vindictive. She already hates me."

He frowned. "I don't believe Kassandra could hate anyone, but if she did, you've certainly given her enough reason to."

Despite my best intentions to try to maintain my temper and get through to him in a logical fashion, my voice emerged with a definite undertone of rage. "She glared at me the moment I saw her in that damned house. She doesn't want any competition."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You're the one sounding jealous and clearly not wanting the competition. You're letting your insecurities cloud your perception. Just give her a chance."

I refused to turn to Jamar, not wanting to draw him into the argument as a way of supporting myself. I was pretty shocked when he opened his mouth without even a second of hesitation.

"I think Shane's right, sugar. You're just stressed out, and you've gotten used to being our queen. She's not going to supplant you. We're just trying to help her out."

I moved away from Jamar and climbed off the bed, angrier than I'd been even a few minutes before. I marched to the door, knowing if I stayed we'd just end up in a screaming match that wouldn't help anything. I'd tried to warn them, and they weren't ready to hear it. They were just going to have to learn a tough lesson on their own, I decided, as I opened the door.

Shane didn't speak to me, but Jamar called, "Where are you going, Lyss?"

"Somewhere else for a while. Just for tonight," I added, wanting them both to know I hadn't given up on the relationship. I just needed a chance to calm down, and they could use the same. I hoped a night apart might actually drill some common sense into their heads, but I doubted it. They weren't yet able to see Kassandra for who she was, and by trying to insist they do so, I was just alienating them.

I'd be wiser to back off and let her true colors show all on their own, and though it was a sound plan, I wasn't certain I could carry it out. The idea of sitting by quietly while she spun her manipulations and tried to cast me from my throne, to borrow Jamar's analogy, seemed weak and pathetic—all the traits I'd been working so hard to shed.

I returned to my office bedroom, recently claimed, and was surprised to find Han waiting for me. It was nice to be able to lie down and sink into his embrace. My body came to life as it touched him, and more importantly, he soothed the anger stirring in me. I laid my head on his chest as we squeezed awkwardly onto the twin-size mattress that provided little protection from the floor.

"I've been meaning to take over an office for a room," said Han as he wrapped strands of my hair around his fingers. I still hadn't gotten up the nerve to cut it, though I knew I needed to. "I think there's an air mattress in the supply room. This looks like as good a room as any. Why don't I go get the mattress, and we can be more comfortable?"

I shook my head, just burrowing closer to him. "I just need you to hold me for a while first. It's been a long day."

He sounded grim when he spoke, caressing my head in gentle strokes as his fingers twined through my hair. "It's going to get longer until she's gone."

I lifted my head to look at him. "How is it you can see through her when they can't?"

He shrugged. "I used to know a woman like her. She didn't look anything like her, but Selena was a piece of work."

"How did you know her?"

For the first time, he looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Like a dumbass, I was going to marry her. I was young and dumb, and she twisted me inside out and manipulated the hell out of me. By the time I proposed, I'd stopped speaking to my best friend of twelve years, I rarely saw my family because Selena claimed they were mean to her when I wasn't around, and I was even preparing to leave the Corps at her behest."

"What stopped you?"

He continued caressing my hair as he spoke, his lips quirked in amusement, though he was still clearly discomfited. "If I hadn't given in to the romantic impulse to sneak into her hotel room the night before the wedding so we could have another night together, I would have stood at the altar and married her, fucking up at least a few years of my life, if not forever."

"What did you find in her room?"

"Who," he corrected coolly. "Her bachelorette party had included several strippers, and she'd decided to take two of them for a test drive. She tried to claim nothing had happened, but they were all naked. When I didn't let her convince me it was all innocent, she pulled out the waterworks and claimed they had raped her."

I shuddered as I imagined the poor dancers, and what must have been their horrified reactions to hearing the allegation. If Han hadn't realized she was full of it, her lie could have destroyed two lives. "You didn't believe her?" I had to be sure.

He snorted. "I might've been a dumbass when it came to Selena, but I wasn't a moron. It was obvious it had been consensual, and she didn't care as much about me as I did about her. It was like a moment of clarity, and I saw her actions in a new light. She might have loved me in her own tepid way, but she was more interested in controlling me and molding me into the husband she wanted than she was in having me as a partner. Every manipulative action she'd done had led to that point, and I almost stepped willingly into the noose."

"At least you figured it out before it was too late."

"Mostly. I lost my best friend. He wouldn't see my point-of-view and couldn't understand how I'd let her manipulate me to start with. The friendship couldn't be revived. At least I made up with family and canceled my plans to leave the Corps. I left her to deal with all the bullshit of canceling the wedding last-minute.

"Of course, being the drama queen that she was, she didn't bother to notify anybody or cancel anything. She showed up at the altar and stood there, waiting for her groom. To this day, I'm not sure if she thought I would yield and show up, or she was just playing the victim role. Either way, I caught hell for jilting her at the altar, and I was too much of a gentleman to reveal to most people exactly why the marriage didn't take place. I was trying to be a nice guy and protect her image." He snorted again as he shook his head. "Like I said, fucking dumbass."

In a way, I found his story hopeful, because he'd eventually realized the kind of woman Selena was. It also was depressing though, because he'd come awfully close to falling into the other woman's trap as well. If he hadn't seen with his own eyes just what she was capable of, he would've married her and been miserable in a short amount of time. It could have taken him years to realize what she was, if he ever did.

The idea of being stuck with Kassandra for years induced a quiet panic. I'd probably end up killing her within weeks if she didn't leave or settle down.

I was mostly bluffing. Mostly.

# Chapter Eighteen

She seemed determined to make my life miserable, so I was trying to avoid her as much as possible. Things were still strained between Shane and me, and Jamar was showing signs of having been won over to her side as well. I had shared their room a few nights since her arrival last week, but even the one time we'd all had sex, it hadn't felt like making love. It had felt like getting off, and the next time I slept with them, I didn't even try to initiate anything. Most telling of all, neither did they. I had a bad feeling in my gut that Kassandra was going to be the thing that splintered my relationship beyond repair with the two men who meant so much to me.

I was determined to try to repair the problem though, and the only way to do that was to avoid discussion of Kassandra and stop sharing my suspicions of her. Jamar joined me for gun practice that afternoon, and as I loaded Miranda, he came to stand beside me. Trying to be more approachable, I laid my head against his bicep. "I've missed you."

He put his arm around me. "I missed you too. I wish this stupid jealousy crap would just go away so we could go back to the way we were."

I stiffened at the implied insult, or perhaps it was meant as an admonishment to shame me into behaving. Whatever his intent, it was enough to stir my ire, but I took a few deep breaths and tried to avoid snapping at him. "I'd like to go back to the way things were before too." I left unuttered the wish that we had never found Kassandra. I figured he would get offended by my perceived jealousy.

I was jealous as hell, and I was secure enough in myself to admit it. If she'd been genuinely kind and soft as she presented herself, I would have pitied her and felt bad about my jealousy. It was the fact that she wasn't like she pretended, and two of my lovers were too blind to see it, that was the most aggravating aspect. I could have dealt with the competition if it had been a fair competition. I didn't know how to play her mind games, and I had no interest in learning. There were more important things to do, like survive.

"Are we going on a run again soon?" We hadn't been on one since the day they'd brought Kassandra back to the base. Every time we started to leave or talked about doing so, she threw a hissy fit and insisted she didn't want to be alone on the base, but refused to go along into the dangerous world again. I was getting frankly sick of it, and Han and I were talking about taking a run ourselves if the others didn't jump on board.

"Yeah, probably tomorrow. I know Kassandra is anxious about being alone, but she'll be fine." His eyes gleamed for a moment as he seemed to have an idea. "Why don't you stay behind and keep her company?"

I snorted. "She wouldn't want my company, and I'm not going to be relegated to the little woman role, stuck at the base while the rest of you go out there risking your lives to keep us safe."

He shrugged. "It was only a suggestion. I thought maybe if you got to know her better, you'd see she's no threat to you."

I saw red for a moment, and I gritted my teeth hard as I pulled my earmuffs down and started firing. I didn't bother to make a response, because nothing I could say would help the situation. He probably meant well, and he was trying to maintain the peace and return us to a happier time, but that was only going to happen when she was gone. With the way she'd embedded her claws into Shane and Jamar, to a lesser extent, that seemed unlikely to happen anytime soon.

In keeping with my determination to try to get through to Shane while avoiding the topic of Kassandra, I sought him out that afternoon. It didn't take long to find him, as he was in the room he'd taken over as an office—the room where he'd given me Miranda. I opened the door without knocking, because he was my man, and I'd never had to knock before. For just a moment, I wish I had knocked, perhaps giving them time to break apart before I'd learned what was happening.

Shane was pressed backward against the desk, and Kassandra was plastered to his front, clinging to his shoulders. They were kissing enthusiastically, and his hands were gripping her arms. As soon as I let out a small gasp of shock, Shane started prying her off him.

Forget the plan of diplomacy and trying to take the high road. I marched over to her and grabbed a handful of hair, yanking her away from Shane. She was a few inches taller than me, so I stretched on my tiptoes as I pulled her head down so our faces were close together. "Keep your hands off my man."

She was furiously angry, and it was obvious in her eyes. If any of the men who thought she was weak could see her expression at this moment, they would realize how wrong they had been. She gave me a look of pure reptilian hatred, and though I knew she couldn't do anything to me physically, it was enough to make my skin crawl and sent a shiver down my spine. In contrast to her look, her voice emerged as a squeaky sound, interspersed with sobs. "Please don't hurt me. I don't know what's wrong with you. Why are you always trying to hurt me?"

With a snort of disgust, I pushed her a few feet away from me. "Get out. Don't come near Shane again."

She stumbled before righting herself, not in any danger of falling to the floor, though she made a production of limping as she moved away from me, shooting an uncertain look at Shane. Perhaps she was expecting him to speak up on her behalf.

To be honest, I was too, and I prepared myself for the words I was sure would come from his mouth. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd asked me to leave instead, with the way things had deteriorated.

Instead, he simply said, "We need some privacy please, Kassandra."

Her lips wobbled, and her eyes widened with genuine shock at the dismissal. I kept up my hard stare, watching her leave until the door closed behind her.

At that point, I turned to Shane, unable to control the surge of anger and betrayal whirling through me. I was certain my eyes were wounded when I looked at him, unable to shield how devastated I was. "How could you do that to me?" I shook my head. "Is that the first time you've kissed her? Is there more? Have you fucked her?"

He scowled at me. "For the record, _she_ kissed _me_ , and that was the first time she'd ever made any kind of move on me."

I rolled my eyes, even though I wanted to believe him. "I could tell you were fighting her off with a stick when I came in."

He let out a sigh of frustration. "What do you want me to say? She kissed me, and it was nice. It wasn't amazing or spectacular like it is with you, but it was nice."

His words cut through me. "You're willing to risk our relationship because kissing her is _nice_?"

He let out another sigh of frustration. "I don't know what you want from me. I thought we were into sharing."

My eyes widened. I shook my head without thought. "I'm not sharing you with her. You're my man."

He glared at me. "Do you have any idea how unfair that is, how hypocritical and outright egotistical? I'm supposed to share you with Jamar and Han, and who knows how many other men might catch your eye over the years, but you're not sharing me? Don't you find that arrangement one-sided and selfish?"

I shrugged. He had a point, but I still didn't agree with it. "I can't share any of you. I thought we were involved in a relationship together, and I'm happy with just the three of you. I have no intention of adding anyone else to the mix."

He snorted. "Yeah, that's what Jamar and I thought until Han was suddenly your lover too. You're fickle, and you don't need me."

"I won't share you. I fucking love you, Shane." I gasped as the words escaped, having had no intention of mentioning them anytime in the near future. I cupped a hand over my mouth as though I could force the words back in, though they'd been uttered.

His eyes narrowed. "Do you mean that, or are you trying to manipulate me?"

I gritted my teeth. "I'm not the manipulative bitch on base. I do love you. I love all of you, and I know it's unfair to expect you to share me, and me not be willing to share any of you. My instinct says I'd never be able to share any of you, but maybe someday we'll meet a woman who doesn't make me want to stab her every time she opens her mouth, and perhaps I could consider the idea of sharing you with her. I just can't do that right now. Not with her, and not because I hate her. It's because I love you." I left unspoken that I didn't trust her, trying to bring the focus back to him and me rather than allowing Kassandra to split it.

His expression softened, and for the first time in several days, he reached out to me and pulled me into his arms. I could have been a stubborn bitch and refused to yield, stepping back from him as a point of pride, but instead I melted against him. It felt good to be in his arms again, and I sniffled to hold back a wave of tears that wanted to fall. I wasn't going to be a damn crybaby.

"The thing is, she needs me."

I stiffened in his arms, trying to pull away. He wouldn't let me, so I lifted my head and glared at him. "So you want to be with her? If that's what you want, I'll respect it." I knew I had to make the offer, even if my heart wasn't in it. Shane had done the same for me when I'd first told him about also sleeping with Jamar. We hadn't been as close back then though, and I suspected he was going to tear a third of my heart out if he answered that yes, she was what he wanted.

He shook his head. "I don't want Kassandra. I feel sorry for her, and I'm protective of her, but I'm not attracted to her. What I like about Kassandra is the fact that she needs me. You don't need me. Call it a hero complex or just damned pathetic, but I'm a man who likes to be needed sometimes. She reminds me of my wife."

A prickle of unease shot through me. I'd known he'd had a wife before Hell Virus, and Stephanie had been one of the first to die during the initial outbreak of the pandemic, so he'd been a widower for months before he and I had met. I was certain he still loved his wife, and I wasn't jealous of her, but I was concerned if he was seeing his dead wife in Kassandra. I couldn't compete with that even if I wanted to. And I didn't. I didn't want to fill the shoes of some dead woman. "Does she look like Stephanie?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Actually, not at all. Stephanie was almost as tall as me, with red hair and blue eyes. It's not the looks, but their personalities. Stephanie relied on me. I mean she wasn't so weak that she needed me for everything, but she looked to me to make the hard decisions and to take care of her. It was a traditional marriage, and I was very much the head of the household. I took care of her and protected her, and in exchange, she looked after me and loved me. We had a good marriage."

That didn't threaten me. I didn't feel even a pang of jealousy to know he'd loved his wife and still did. I knew you could love more than one person. The heart was big enough to do so.

"When she got sick, she expected me to have the answers. I didn't know what to do, and for the first time in our relationship, I failed Stephanie. I wasn't able to protect her from Hell Virus, and she needed me to. I stayed with her and held her hand as she died, but I knew I'd failed her. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth just thinking about it, so I hope you can understand why I can't leave another vulnerable woman without protection. I can't fail Kassandra, or it's like failing Stephanie again."

I sucked in an uneven breath, realizing the situation was far more complicated than I'd realized. It wasn't as simple as attraction for two people and having to choose which one he found more enticing. He still hauled the emotional baggage of guilt for not saving his wife from a virus that killed just about everyone who contracted it, transferring the burden and linking it to Kassandra. It was going to be a lot harder to get through to him than I'd thought.

"You didn't fail your wife. There was nothing you could do for Stephanie. None of us could do anything for the people we loved as we watched them die. I lost my entire family, and I know you did the same. We didn't fail them. The only reason we might have to feel guilty is for surviving, which isn't exactly a prize in this world."

He gave me a sad smile. "My brain knows that, but my heart doesn't really agree. I can't help how I feel, and I feel like I let down my wife. I have a second chance to protect someone who needs it, and I have to take that. I'm not interested in a relationship with her, but I can't turn her out just because you don't like her. We all have to learn to get along."

It was a lost cause. I could see that, at least for now. Unless or until she revealed the real her, he was completely snowed by the innocent victim routine. Apparently, I'd have to go straight to the source of sluttery if I wanted to fix this.

I allowed myself to sink against Shane, capturing his mouth with mine. I'd missed him so much over the last few days, and he responded immediately. There wasn't any hesitation or holding back on his part, which encouraged me. If he'd been thinking about Kassandra, even briefly, he never would have responded to me with such enthusiasm and naked hunger.

Our clothes seemed to disappear in a flash, and I pushed him back onto his desk so I could climb on top of him, straddling his thighs. I bent over him, taking his mouth with mine, and kissed him with blatant hunger.

As I did so, I realized I was taking charge. Maybe it made him uncomfortable, and perhaps he'd prefer if I were more submissive. I couldn't imagine being that way in my everyday life, or deferring to him to make the hard decisions when all the decisions were tough these days, but I could definitely surrender in the bedroom—or on the desk, as the case happened to be at the moment.

I melted against him again, leaned my head on his shoulder, and waited for him to take charge.

He seemed to realize what I was doing, because his hands gripped my hips, and he brought me into alignment with his cock. He didn't enter me though. First, he stroked my clit with his fingers, making sure I was wet enough to take him. When he sank into me, he continued strumming my clit, and I held still until he started moving. I let Shane set the pace and did my best to match it, not escalating. It was surprisingly easy to surrender and let him control this aspect. I wouldn't want to do it all the time, but maybe I could show him moments of vulnerability that would make him happy and convince him I did need him.

The truth was I absolutely did. I was getting more self-sufficient, and maybe I could even survive on my own if I had to, but I didn't want to. I needed Shane to complete all the parts of my heart, just like Jamar and Han. I had to show him that by being open and vulnerable.

# Chapter Nineteen

I found Kassandra in the bunkroom, which she shared with Wesley since Han had taken over the office we used on nights I slept with him. He hadn't yet shown a willingness to join Jamar and Shane in my bed at the same time, and I was respecting that. With the friction Kassandra had caused, there hadn't been a whole lot of action happening in my bed with Jamar and Shane lately anyway. This afternoon had been the first time Shane and I had made love since that disastrous night the first week of Kassandra's arrival.

I cornered her near her bunk, and though she was taller than me, and probably outweighed me by thirty pounds, she cowered away. I tried to keep my tone firm, but not menacing. "I want you to stay away from my men."

She sneered at me despite her fear. "Your men? You don't own any of them. If you weren't such a super slut, you wouldn't have any of them. You certainly wouldn't have all of them. Besides, I just want Shane."

I stepped closer, one hand on Miranda, and the other on my knife in a menacing fashion. Perhaps my plan to be unemotional and stern wasn't going to work. I might have to put a little fear into the bitch. "Too bad. You can't have Shane, because Shane's with me."

"You have the black guy and the Mexican. You don't need the only white guy."

I grimaced, literally tasting something foul in my mouth just from what her words revealed. It explained why she'd never made any attempt to flirt with Jamar or Han beyond when she needed to manipulate them to do something. "Have Wesley. He's white."

She grimaced. "If he wasn't good enough for you, he certainly isn't good enough for me."

I rolled my eyes. "I have no intention of discussing your love life or lack of. I'm just telling you now to stay away from Shane, Jamar, and Han. They belong with me, and I won't put up with you trying to steal them, any of them, away. You can still be kicked off the base."

She crossed her arms and glared at me, and there was an expression of confidence on her face I didn't like one bit. "Shane would never allow that, and since this group existed before you came along, you don't have any extra clout. You aren't even a real soldier, so you can't make a vote about who gets to stay."

Allowing my anger to get the better of me, I gripped my knife and pulled it from its sheath. "There's one way to remove you from the base permanently. Let's not let it get to that point, Kassandra. Keep your hands to yourself and stay away from my men."

Her eyes widened with genuine fear, and I must have been pretty convincing. Honestly, I was feeling kind of homicidal, so I'm sure that showed through in my expression. She took a step back, and I put the knife away.

"You can't keep him forever. He doesn't belong to you."

I nodded, probably surprising her by agreeing. "You're right. Shane doesn't belong to me, and I don't belong to him. We belong _with_ each other, and that's the difference. He wants to be with me and not you. Accept that gracefully."

Kassandra scowled at me. "I think you're the one who needs to accept gracefully that Shane's going to be mine. I want him, and I'm going to take him."

I turned away from her without replying, wishing I felt more confident about her inability to do so. After our discussion, I was certain Shane wasn't actually attracted to her, but she'd probably picked up on his need to play the hero. If she played the role correctly, she could end up convincing him she needed him in order to survive.

How much of his own happiness would he sacrifice to atone for his perceived failure to save his wife? I didn't know, and I didn't want to think about that. I just wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend like things had gone back to normal. I could be an idiot as well as the rest of them when the occasion called for it.

Jamar found me at the firing range, and he was clearly angry. I braced myself for another round of relationship drama as I flipped the safety and put Miranda in my holster. "What?"

"Did you really threaten Kassandra with a knife? Did you tell her you were going to cut her heart out if she didn't leave Shane alone?"

So she'd gone tattling on me. I wasn't shocked, but I wondered why she had picked Jamar instead of Shane. I'm sure there was a strategy to it, though I wasn't grasping it at the moment. I shrugged. "Sort of. I didn't threaten to cut her heart out. I just told her I'd make her disappear off the base if she didn't leave my men alone."

He looked stunned, and I didn't like his look of derision. "You can't go around threatening people like that. She's a vulnerable young woman, and you should have some sympathy."

"I'm done having sympathy for her. She wore out that spark of emotion the first day. She's a snake."

He rolled his eyes. "Shane said more than once you were jealous, but I didn't realize how jealous you were. It has to stop."

Anger was trying to surge to the forefront, but I really didn't want to engage in another war today. "I'm done with it now that I've laid down the law for her. As long as she leaves me alone, including stops trying to sabotage my relationships, I'll happily ignore her too."

He let out a sigh before nodding. "I understand how jealousy can get the best of you. The first few times I saw you with Shane, even though I was there too, I wanted to ram my fist into his face and claim you as mine. But we had agreed to share, and we did." When I started to speak, he held up a hand. "Don't worry, I get it. You haven't agreed to share us with her, so I understand where the jealousy and insecurity comes from, but you don't have to feel that way. We want you, not her."

It was basically what Shane had said, and though I could have disputed his assumption that it was strictly jealousy motivating my reaction, I chose to take the peaceful route and lay against him instead. I hugged him before capturing his mouth, and he lifted me onto the platform. It was one of my favorite places to make love with Jamar, since it made us roughly the same height, and I impatiently shoved down my pants. I needed the connection with him. Our link hadn't been as fragile as the one I'd had with Shane lately, but it was definitely frayed, and we needed to reinforce it before it managed to ravel and snap.

He surged into me a moment later, and we fell into the familiar rhythms as we clung to each other. When he came, I laid my head against his chest and whispered the words I'd said to Shane earlier, "I love you, Jamar."

He let out a shuddering groan, and the words seemed to prolong his climax, triggering my own in the process. I was coming pretty hard myself when he said in what sounded like a gasping grunt, "Love you too, sugar."

Things felt right again, at least as right as they had since Kassandra's arrival. I clung to him and to the hope that maybe the worst was behind us.

Kassandra seemed to have taken my warning to heart, because she distanced herself from Shane somewhat over the next few days. She still flirted with him, but she didn't go exclusively to him for help. She was turning to Wesley more often, and I was relieved to see them starting to form a bond. I hoped she'd taken my words at face value and saw my sincerity. I wasn't actually prepared to murder her to get rid of her, but all bets were off if she tried going after my men again.

Maybe she'd given up on Shane and turned to Wesley. That was my hope, and it seemed to be what had happened as they spent more and more of their time together. Once, I came across them making out in the hallway, and I gave Wesley a smile as I walked past. It was a dazzling one, and I could see his bemused look. He probably had no idea why I was so happy to find him making out with her. It was a sign of her moving on and away from Shane.

Han still hadn't joined us in the big bedroom, so I split my nights between Shane and Jamar and him. I wanted him with us, but I couldn't rush him. It was already a big step for him having to share me with his two friends, and I had a greater appreciation for how hard it must be for them after having my own brush with insane jealousy.

The difference was, they all knew each other, and they were all certain each of them cared for me and wanted to take care of me. With Kassandra, I knew her only motivation was taking care of herself, and she'd use anyone necessary to do that. I wanted to protect them from her claws as much as I wanted to keep them with me.

# Chapter Twenty

As was often the case, things went to hell, and they went there quickly. We typically took at least one day off per week from runs or other duties, if they could be skipped. Today was our downtime. It was late afternoon, and I was busy studying how to raise chickens in an indoor environment. I'd read the same book several times, but I was trying to memorize everything and make mental notes. I planned to start looking for supplies and chickens on our next run, so I wanted to make sure I had all the necessities burned into my brain and didn't have to fumble with a list. Taking a minute to look at a list could get me killed if there was somebody around with bad intentions.

I was in the mess hall, and the sound of hysterical sobbing caught my attention. Shane and Jamar also looked up, and Wesley wandered in from the kitchen, where he'd been fixing lunch. We all stumbled to our feet when Kassandra rushed into the cafeteria. She was sobbing, clearly incapable of speech at the moment, but it was obvious she'd been attacked. Her face was bruised, her mouth was bloody, and there were visible finger marks around her neck.

I reached for my gun, certain someone had invaded the base.

She saw me reaching for Miranda and threw herself against Shane with a moan of complete terror. "Please don't let her hurt me again. Hasn't she done enough?"

For a moment, I honestly thought she was talking about before, the one time I had pulled her hair to get her off Shane. As Shane and Jamar turned condemnatory expressions on me, I abruptly realized what she was claiming. "I didn't touch her. I don't know what happened, but I had nothing to do with it."

She managed to sob for another moment before speaking in a surprisingly clear voice. "She came up behind me and grabbed my throat. She was strangling me as hard as she could. If I hadn't somehow managed to break free of her, she would've killed me right then. When I turned to face her, begging her not to hurt me anymore, she punched me a couple of times in the face. When I fell down, she kicked me in the ribs." To punctuate her fiction, she lifted her shirt and showed angry red marks on her ribs. "Then she kicked me in the head, and I lost consciousness. I just woke up a few minutes ago."

My mouth was literally agape with shock. "I had nothing to do with this. I didn't touch her. I've been reading my book all afternoon."

"Except when you went to the bathroom a few hours ago," said Jamar, looking regretful as he uttered the words. "You were gone for a while."

"Yes, I was gone for a while, but that was because Han and I had a quickie. Ask him, and he'll confirm for you that we were fucking in the shower room. That was the only place I went—to the shower room, where I saw Han, we had sex, and I came back here. I never even saw Kassandra today." That wasn't unusual. We tried to stay away from each other, only rarely meeting at mealtimes.

"Where is Han?" asked Wesley, moving closer. I was surprised when he stood behind me, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. It struck me as ironic the one man I wasn't involved with had taken my side without question when the two men who supposedly loved me had been drawn into her tale of victimhood.

"I haven't seen him for most of the day," said Shane. "I figured he was napping or taking advantage of some downtime."

He'd mentioned doing a perimeter check after he and I had finished our encounter in the shower room, and I figured that's where he was now. It had been a couple of hours, but maybe he'd found something of interest. Maybe he was in trouble aboveground and needed help. "You should go look for him. What if he's in trouble? He was talking about doing a perimeter check, and if no one's seen him since, maybe he ran into bad people."

Kassandra clung to Shane in an eye-roll-worthy move. "Please don't leave me alone with her. Can't you see she's just trying to get you away from me so she can finish the job? I think she thought I was dead, or I probably wouldn't have woken up. She kicked me so hard in the head, and I'm still feeling dizzy."

With a dramatic sway, she collapsed against Shane. He caught her like the manipulated fool he was, carefully laying her on the table. Her eyes snapped open a moment later, and I smirked down at her. She clearly hadn't expected him to put her down. She managed to sit up with surprising ease, considering she supposedly had a concussion. Someone had clearly done a number on her, but she wasn't as hurt as she'd claimed. All the injuries were strategic, looking far worse than they'd actually be, and I started to put the pieces together. "She did it to herself so you'd think I did it. She's trying to frame me so you'll banish me."

She flinched. "That's not true. She's manipulating you."

I laughed. "That's rich coming from the queen of manipulation."

Jamar looked at her in an appraising fashion, but when he looked at me, his expression was sad. "Sugar, she couldn't have done that herself. She might've been able to ram her face into a wall or something, but she couldn't give herself bruises on her ribs that look like boots, and she sure couldn't have strangled herself from behind."

"I didn't do it," I said rapidly, feeling my anxiety creeping up. I was starting to get a bad feeling about all this. With a stinking sensation, I contemplated the idea that Kassandra's machination might actually work, and they might send me away. I didn't think Han would allow it, but he wasn't there to stop them.

"There's an easy way to prove it," said Shane, his jaw tight. "Put your hands on her throat."

She gasped and reared away from me, scrambling off the table. "You can't mean to let her finish it, Shane. I thought you cared about me?"

He frowned out at her. "I do care about you. There's no way she's going to strangle you in front of us. I just want to see if her fingers match the marks on your throat."

After a moment, she nodded, looking stoic.

I moved toward her eagerly, ready to disprove her accusations. I lifted my hands after I moved around behind her, putting them on her throat and trying to line them up roughly with the existing marks. My stomach churned when I realized they were almost a perfect match. Had I somehow slipped into a fugue state and attacked her? No, of course not. I knew she was still framing me, but I couldn't figure out how she'd done it.

I took her hand, jerking it against my own, and compared our palms sizes. Our fingers were about the same length too. "Look at that, Shane. She has the same size hands as me. She did this to herself. I don't know how, but she did it."

He scoffed. "She'd have to be a gymnast to be able to contort herself enough to strangle herself from behind." His lack of faith in me stung, but not as much as the next words he uttered. "For safety's sake, until we sort this out, you should go wait in one of the offices and quarantine yourself voluntarily, Alyssa."

The Alyssa hurt almost as much as his words, since he usually called me Lyss. I stumbled back, shocked by what I was hearing. I darted a glance to Jamar, and he seemed to be regretful, but he nodded his agreement. "Just until we settle this and sort everything out. We need everyone to be safe on the base, Alyssa."

Alyssa again. I shook my head, backing away without thought until I ran into Wesley. I looked up at him with all the pain I was feeling reflected in my eyes. He gave me a sympathetic expression, and I remembered he was on my side. "We're not locking her up in here. If you feel that way about it, I'll take her somewhere else off-base and keep her safe."

I was so hurt and angry that it sounded like a good idea to me. I nodded. "Would you please? I can't stay here right now." I was wounded and betrayed, and I'd never hurt so much in my life. Even losing my family and Becky hadn't hurt this deeply. Then, I'd felt cheated at losing them, but they hadn't done anything to actively cause the separation. They hadn't died willingly just to leave me alone, but Shane and Jamar had both taken Kassandra's side, which meant they hadn't taken mine.

The evidence that suggested I had done it was circumstantial. If it had been either one of them in the same position, I would've supported them without question, because I knew them well enough to know they wouldn't have hurt someone with deliberate intent, no matter the circumstances. They didn't have the same faith in me, and it shook me.

I heard Jamar and Shane protesting the idea, but I tuned them out as I clung to Wesley, allowing him to lead me from the mess hall. We didn't even stop for clothes or supplies. We just went to one of the Humvees we'd found here on the base. I settled into the front seat, allowing him to get behind the wheel, and stared unseeing out the window as we took the platform up and drove away from the base a few minutes later.

I was lost in my own grief and misery for several long minutes before I realized Han wouldn't know what had happened. He wouldn't have supported Shane and Jamar in their suggestion that maybe I should be locked away for Kassandra's safety, and he definitely would never approve of me leaving the base. I'd probably been a fucking idiot to go off half-cocked, but at least Wesley was there, so I wasn't alone. I needed to cool down, and then we could go back and face them.

"I didn't do it," I said firmly.

Wesley reached over and put his hand on my leg, squeezing gently. "I believe you, Lyss. You wouldn't do anything like that, no matter how much you disliked her."

I put my hand over his, touched by the gesture of comfort, but not liking the feel of his hand on me. I wasn't certain if I was going to squeeze his hand in return, or gently pry it off my leg. Either way, as my fingers molded over his, I froze. Our hands were nearly the same size.

# Chapter Twenty-One

I abandoned all plans to remove his hand from my leg, not wanting to rouse his suspicion. I laid mine higher in my lap and struggled not to show my sudden anxiety. He had to have been the one who'd attacked Kassandra, and she must have been in on it. All the time they'd spent together recently hadn't been because they were forming a relationship, but because they were plotting this...whatever it was. I understood her motivation for wanting to get rid of me, but I didn't understand Wesley's role in all of this.

Trying to appear oblivious, I adopted a regretful tone. "I've been a big idiot. We never should have left the base, because now they're going to be sure I'm guilty. And Han doesn't know what's going on. We need to go back and face this thing."

He kept driving, his gaze straight ahead, though his hand tightened perceptibly on my thigh, almost enough to hurt. "We can't do that."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"They don't deserve you if they'd treat you like that. You go crawling back, and it makes you weak."

I caught my breath, wondering if he'd picked up on my need to be strong. Had he always had keen observational skills, or had Kassandra taught him some of her manipulative tricks? I tried a different approach. "Thank you for standing with me. It must have been difficult to go against Kassandra when you two are involved."

He snorted. "We aren't involved."

"I saw you in the hallway a few days ago, all wrapped up in each other."

He shrugged. "There was a reason for that, but it wasn't because we're involved."

I was getting frustrated and also edging toward frightened. I probably should have been afraid before now, but I was mostly just confused by Wesley's actions. "We do have to go back to the base. It isn't safe for just you and me out here."

He stiffened, and his hand tightened again on my thigh, definitely hurting now. "I can protect you just as well as they can. I'm just as good as they are."

I nodded. "I know, but it's just too hard for two people to have each other's backs out here. I think we need more people in our group, even if that includes Kassandra." The moment I got back to base, I was dragging that bitch off by her hair, regardless of what anyone else said, but I had to get there first. I'd say or do anything to get back. Maybe I was adopting a few moves from her playbook as well.

"We aren't going back."

I glared at him as I crossed my arms over my chest. "I get a say in that, you know."

He turned his head to look at me, squeezing his hand as hard as he could on my thigh until I yelped. "I've gone through all this to get you, and I'm not returning you to them. Kassandra has Shane now, and I have you."

My fear definitely flared then. "Why do you want me? You and Kassandra were making out. I don't understand any of this."

He sneered at me. "We staged that so you'd think you had nothing more to worry about. Kassandra's been planning all along to take you out. You should be glad she went to me for help, because her original plan was to kill you."

I scoffed. "That piece of work couldn't kill me."

He glanced away from the road again briefly to shoot me an admonishing look. "Do you really think she was going to play fair and approach you from the front? She'd sneak around behind your back and kill you that way. Poisoning your food, a knife in the back, pushing you down the stairs... She had all sorts of ideas in mind."

I was chilled by his words. I'd known she was a manipulative bitch, but I hadn't realized she was homicidal. "Thanks for saving me," I said in a dry tone. I don't think he detected my sarcasm, which was probably a good thing.

"You're welcome. I didn't want you hurt."

I licked my lips, trying to be reasonable as I put my hand over his in an attempt to get him to lighten his touch. It was really starting to hurt, though I refused to cry out again. "You could have just told me what she was planning instead of doing all this."

"I could have, but then I wouldn't get what I wanted out of the deal."

My stomach dropped. "What is it you want?" But I already knew the answer.

"You."

I nearly choked on a ragged gasp. "But why do you want me?"

"Everyone else had a turn, so I should get one too."

I glared at him. "I'm not an amusement park ride, and I don't sleep with just anyone. I care about Jamar, Shane, and Han."

He turned angry eyes on me when he should have been watching the road. "But you don't care about me?" He asked the question so vehemently that spittle flew from his mouth.

"Of course I care about you. We're friends. I'm not attracted to you in that way, but I thought we were friends. Sorry that's not enough for you, but it's all I can offer."

"I could have lived with that when you weren't screwing Han too, but then it was all of them. All but me." His eyes returned to the road, much to my relief, though he was still cold and angry. "You can't say no. You act like you have a choice in the matter, but the world's different now. I've had to listen for weeks to the sound of you fucking everyone but me, and I've had enough of that. You're mine now, and unlike the rest of those losers, I don't share."

Anger was warring with fear, trying to gain dominance, and I was happy to let it. Anger might be more productive. "I'd never sleep with you. You'd have to force me. Do you want to be a rapist? Has the world changed so much that you're okay with forcing a woman to have sex with you?"

He shrugged as though it didn't bother him at all. "Everything's different now."

Staring at him, evaluating his body language and expression, I knew he was telling me the truth. He didn't care if he had to force me to keep me. I'd never realized before that he had the same sociopathic tendencies as Kassandra. He'd always seemed like such a nice guy, quiet and on the shy side. Other than that brief period of time when he'd made me feel uncomfortable with all his leering, which I had attributed to simple post-apocalyptic sexual frustration, he'd always been friendly and helpful. I'd honestly thought we were friends and had never seen him as a threat.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, and a chill went down my back. I was faintly nauseated, and I had to act soon, doing something he wouldn't expect. Now that I knew his intentions, he wouldn't be maintaining any façade.

I was almost as startled as him when I surged forward and wrenched on the steering will, sending us careening off the road. He pulled back, but I held on with all my strength. It wasn't exactly a match for his, but it was enough to keep him from getting back on the road.

I had expected him to slam on the brakes, which might give me a chance to get out of the Humvee and run away before he could stop me. I hadn't anticipated him being completely off his rocker, because the more I fought, the harder he pressed on the accelerator. I saw the tree coming toward us, and I tried to pull the steering wheel to the right in an attempt to avoid it.

With a mad laugh, he pulled it back in his direction with a wrench hard enough to pull on my shoulder and make me cry out. He could have moved around the tree if he had eased down on the accelerator, but instead, he just pressed harder, surely hitting the floorboard by now.

"You're going to kill us both," I screamed.

"So be it."

I let go of the steering wheel, no longer trying to fight as I fumbled for my seatbelt. Like an idiot, I hadn't put it on before leaving the compound. I'd been too numb and immersed in my hurt feelings to have any situational awareness. It clicked about a millisecond before he hit the tree, and the entire vehicle jolted at the collision.

I was thrown forward, and the seatbelt tightened around me, stealing my breath. As I started to rebound, the angle was off, sending my head smashing into the window instead of back against my seat. I didn't even have a chance to fight the wave of blackness overtaking me. I was awake one moment and completely out the next.

I came to, feeling fuzzyheaded and queasy. I blinked open my eyes, which was a difficult endeavor under the circumstances. They each seemed to be anchored with hundred-pound weights. Finally, my lids opened, and I was able to vaguely focus. I was experiencing a bit of double vision, which made everything blurry around the edges, but didn't create an entire duplicate image.

A shiver went through me when I realized I was naked from the waist down. I let out a small whimper and tried to move, but was still incapacitated. I tried to focus on my surroundings, finally ascertaining he had moved me in the passenger seat, laying me across sideways. My head rested on the hard central console, and my hair was tangled with the gear shifter. He'd removed my pants, but I didn't hurt inside, so I didn't think he'd violated me yet.

Wesley stood above me, holding my calves and pushing my knees back toward my stomach as he splayed my thighs. If I had Miranda, I would have shot him without hesitation.

Unfortunately, as I fumbled at my side for my gun or even my knife, I discovered the asshole had stripped them from me. He must have taken my holster when he took my pants, and I cursed his ability to think straight. If he'd been so consumed with lust to have me, I'd hoped maybe he'd overlooked that, but no such luck. "Please don't do this," I rasped.

"Don't worry. You'll like it." As he spoke those words, he lowered his head, moving between my thighs.

I shuddered with disgust when his tongue entered me. "Please stop. Just fuck me, but don't do this." It was enough to put me off oral sex for life, and I'd hate to feel like that.

He ignored my words as he continued licking me. I tried to squirm away, but wasn't able to in my weakened state. I just didn't have enough strength—at least in my upper body, but I wondered about my legs. All the running and leg presses I'd done surely must have given me strong leg muscles.

I waited until he was clearly into his task, somehow enduring his disgusting touch until he was breathing rapidly. When I was certain he wasn't paying attention to anything except his tongue in my pussy, struggling to coax a response he was never going to get, I locked my thighs around his head. At first, he must have thought I was coming, because he increased the rapidity of his tongue, but as I squeezed my thighs tighter, trapping him against my pussy, he started to struggle.

I clenched my legs for all I was worth, keeping him tight against me so he couldn't breathe. He was flailing and doing his best to pry me off now, but desperation fueled my strength. He'd either been so arrogant or eager that he hadn't bothered to tie me up before he started abusing me, but if he broke free, I knew he wouldn't make that mistake again. He'd either shoot me and be done with it, or he'd restrain me so I couldn't fight him at all. Of those two options, I preferred the first, but I wasn't certain he'd give me that luxury. He'd gone to a lot of trouble to obtain me.

He reared back, his hands on my thighs holding me close to him even as he tried to get away. His movements dragged me out of the Humvee, and I banged my head on the floorboard on the way out in the same spot I'd hit before. The pain flared, and I started to gray out. I couldn't let that happen, so I focused on what he would do to me if I went unconscious. I had no doubt he'd rape me whether I was awake or not, and the idea of sharing my body with him was enough to make me vomit. It flew from my mouth, and I barely managed to turn my head to keep from plastering myself.

He kept trying to fight his way out of the tight grasp I had, until his back collided with a tree. It seemed to give him an idea, and I grunted in surprise when he suddenly held me harder, not allowing me to escape him if I'd wanted to. I realized his intent was to ram me against another tree, and I somehow managed to fold myself upward so that my back took the brunt of the collision, because if he'd slammed my face against the tree, I probably would have died.

The pain was excruciating, and I ended up loosening my hold on his face, though I didn't want to. In an instant, my legs slipped away, and he was turning me so he could hold my front against his. I was certain his intent was to take me right then, and he thought I was still incapacitated with pain.

He didn't expect me to be able to fight back. Hell, I barely expected it myself, but I forced my arms to lift, and I grabbed both sides of his face. I dug my nails into his cheeks as I twisted his head. He hadn't been expecting it, so he didn't put up much of a fight as I broke his neck. There was a startled expression on his face before all awareness faded, and he slumped to the ground, taking me with him.

I hit the forest floor, screaming at the way any contact with my back hurt. It was spasming, and I could barely move. His body was pinning me into the damp foliage, and I was feeling too weak to move him off me. I needed to get up and back in the Humvee, to seek shelter, because it was starting to rain.

For just a moment, I was tempted to close my eyes and sleep, to let the world fall away and not care if I drowned from rainfall or died from exposure. With the incredible amount of pain I felt, death would have been a welcome reprieve. Only knowing Han would never know what had happened to me, and Shane and Jamar would be at Kassandra's mercy, gave me enough strength to roll him away from me. It took almost the last of my reserves, but I managed to crawl to the Humvee. Standing was impossible.

As I neared the passenger side, I found my holster discarded on the ground, along with my pants. I lifted them, and then stopped when I realized he'd cut them off me. I didn't have any spare clothes, and I couldn't bear the thought of trying to remove his pants so I could wear them. I didn't think I had the strength anyway. I'd have to try to cover myself with the remnants of mine as best I could. Once the storm passed, I'd have to come up with a plan, but right now, I just wanted to huddle in the vehicle like a hurt animal in its den.

I dragged myself in there, my entire body shaking now from exertion and agony. I closed the door with the last of my strength and curled up on the seat as best I could. It was already cold, and without pants, it was bound to get colder. I only hoped it wasn't going to snow, because even with the shelter of the Humvee, I'd probably die.

I peered over the dashboard, wincing when I saw how much of the hood was rammed into the tree and crumpled. I was certain the car wouldn't start, but I had to try. With a whimper from the pain that shot through my back, I stretched for the keys hanging in the switch and tried to turn on the vehicle. Nothing happened, not even a clicking sound indicating a dead battery. The Humvee was totally wrecked. It would provide a measure of shelter, but I had no food or water, and I wasn't certain how long it would take Han to find me.

I knew with bone-deep certainty he would though. He wouldn't stop looking until he found me. I was confident he was already on the road searching for me, and I allowed myself to start to drift to sleep. As I crossed over the threshold into unconsciousness, a thought caused my eyes to pop open.

What if Han was dead? What if Wesley had done something to him, knowing he wouldn't be as easy to manipulate as Shane and Jamar? There might be no one looking for me, and I'd have to save myself or die trying.

They were brave words, but they didn't keep me from slipping into unconsciousness. I couldn't keep fighting my body's need to rest and regenerate.

# Chapter Twenty-Two

The next time I woke, it was only briefly. Dark surrounded me, but a flash of light had woken me. For a moment, I had a stirring of excitement, hoping it was headlights. Instead, I quickly realized it was simply lightning flashing across the sky when it happened again. The wind was howling, and the rain was coming down in torrents, but at least the inside of the Humvee was snug and dry. I was freezing, but I couldn't do much about that when I couldn't even get the engine to start so I could turn on the heater.

At least I was out of the elements, and though I was cold, I didn't think I was going to die. I wouldn't freeze to death, and it didn't look like the storm was going to turn to snow. I let myself slip into unconsciousness again, chasing the temporary pain relief I found only when I was unaware.

The next time I woke, it was still dark, and light flashed again. I almost ignored it, thinking it was lightning, but then comprehended the lights were continuous. I was groggy and fuzzyheaded, but I put my hand on Miranda and fumbled her from the holster lying beside me on the seat. Whoever had found me might be safe and have good intentions, or they could be a predator like Wesley or Kassandra. I might not be able to fight them all off, but I could manage the necessary strength to put a bullet in my own brain. If it looked like I was going to be taken by a group of people who had evil intentions, I'd rather go out on my own terms than let them dishonor me first.

The passenger door opened, and I leveled Miranda at the person standing there, unable to completely focus or make out a face. "State your intentions," I said in a slurred tone that sounded like I'd been on an all-night bender.

"I intend to get you the fuck out of here and love you for the rest of my life," said Han.

Miranda fell from my grasp, and I fumbled for her again, but just to tuck her back into the holster that I clung to as Han lifted me from the passenger seat. I held onto him as well as I could in my weakened state. "Glad to see you," I said.

As he lifted me, his hands settled on my bare thighs, and he cursed. "What did he do to you?"

"Not as much as he'd like, but more than I wanted," I managed to push out through my numb lips. "Fucker's dead. I nearly smothered him with my pussy." I started giggling, though it had an edge of hysteria to it. I couldn't seem to rein it in for the longest time, and he just held me as light rain covered us.

"Good girl," he said. "Let's get you home."

"Sounds good." There was so much I wanted to say, things I wanted to ask him, but I didn't have the strength. I just snuggled against him as he got into the Humvee. I was vaguely aware he was in the passenger seat, and I was in his lap. That meant someone else was driving, which surprised me. I figured it must be Jamar, who probably felt guilty about taking Kassandra's side. Shane was probably still back at the base guarding her from my ill intentions when I returned.

The thought brought tears to my eyes, and for the first time since Wesley had attacked me, I allowed myself to feel the emotions swirling through me. Anger was rapidly giving way to the sting of betrayal. It hurt that Shane and Jamar hadn't had the faith in me required to sustain a relationship. Even if I managed to convince them Kassandra wasn't the innocent thing she seemed—and I had no doubt she'd hide behind the fact Wesley was dead and claim he'd beaten her, but made her tell us it was me to get me off base, once again playing the victim—I couldn't imagine trusting either one of them enough to be with them again.

I couldn't keep thinking about it with my head pounding and the pain flaring through me. I whimpered and curled closer to Han. "Hurts," I managed to whisper.

"Shane, give me some pain pills from the first-aid kit."

I was startled to realize Shane was here, which meant Kassandra probably was too. I stiffened, trying to fight my way out of Han's arms. He must have thought I was hysterical, because he continued holding me tightly, but in an embrace that wouldn't hurt me or him. "She was behind it. They planned all this. If she's in this vehicle, kick her ass out now."

"Calm down," said Han. "You're going to worsen your injuries."

I couldn't seem to still my body even at his calming words. I'm not sure if it was panic or pain that finally overwhelmed me and sent me back into unconsciousness before I could take the pills Han offered. Either way, it was a blessed escape.

The next time I woke, I was in the infirmary, lying on my stomach. The pain of someone examining my back must have been what woke me, because I cried out when another flash of agony went down my spine.

"I'm sorry," said Jamar. "I had to check to make sure he didn't crack any vertebrae. I think you're going to heal, but your back is a mess. It's all scraped up. I've given you a pain killer, and it should be kicking in soon."

It was, and I could feel haziness overtaking me. It was an unsettling sensation that seemed to put a blanket over my thoughts, covering them an inch at a time. It was like swimming through molasses as I tried to cling to consciousness, but failed.

The next time I was alert, I realized I was in the bedroom I'd shared with Shane and Jamar for weeks. Han was sitting in a chair nearby, clearly having pulled watch-the-invalid duty. I was stiff and sore, but not feeling the throbbing agony I had before. I assumed they'd been giving me regular doses of medication. I looked up at the ceiling and then around, seeing an IV bag hanging from a pole. I must have been out for a long time, and probably dehydrated. I tried calling his name, but my voice was raspy.

He still heard me and was up from the chair like a shot, coming to sit carefully beside me on the bed. "I want to go to our room," I said in a thick voice. I was certain he couldn't hear me, and when he offered me a small amount of water, I tried to drink it slowly so he wouldn't snatch it away. If I'd been greedy and gulped it, he wouldn't have let me have as much in case it upset my queasy stomach. When I finally had what he deemed was enough, and he pulled it away despite my brief resistance, I said the words again, and this time they were audible. "I want to be in our room, not here."

He frowned. "You're in no shape to be carried to a different bed right now. You're just going to have to stay there."

"You won't leave me?" It was a pathetic and needy question, but my defenses were low, and I allowed it to slip out.

"Of course not. We've been taking turns sitting with you, so you aren't going to be alone, babe."

My eyes widened. I was certain I already knew the answer, but I asked, "You haven't let Kassandra stay with me, have you? She's been plotting to murder me."

He scowled. "I wouldn't let that trash anywhere near you, babe. When I woke up from a head injury someone had bestowed upon me and dragged me into a corner of the base, I hustled back to our main living area. I found out everything had gone to hell, and you were gone with Wesley. It seemed pretty damned obvious to me that Wesley and Kassandra had set up the whole thing, and as soon as I spoke that theory, Jamar realized what an idiot he'd been. Shane hesitated for only a second longer before he realized too."

Han laughed, clearly enjoying the memory. "That skank had been plastered against him, complaining about being dizzy from the concussion you gave her, and he pushed her away so fast she went reeling across the floor and fell on her ass. I think it was the first time I saw her cry genuine tears as we went tearing from the mess hall, leaving her on the floor."

A prickle of unease stirred. "You left her here alone, unguarded?"

He shrugged. "You were our top priority, Lyss. I didn't care if she wrecked the base or set fire to it. I had to get to you, and you need to know they felt the same."

I sniffled. "Doesn't matter. It's too late."

He took my hand in his, squeezing it gently. "I understand how you feel, but Shane and Jamar feel terrible over how they reacted, and they finally realize just how much she's manipulated them. They're carrying a load of guilt."

I sniffled again. "Good. They should be." Shane in particular should be practically paralyzed with shame after choosing Kassandra over me at nearly every turn. I wasn't quite at the point yet where I could separate the emotions I felt and try to move on as friends or comrades with him. I wasn't certain I could stay with the group after I recovered, but I'd worry about that another time. "Where is Kassandra?"

Han shrugged. "I don't know. For someone who is so completely helpless, she managed to cram a Humvee full of supplies and disappear before we got back. I have no doubt she's in search of her next victim, and as long as she doesn't come back, I don't care. If I ever see her again, there won't be a trial or any of that nonsense. She'll get the same treatment as that fucker who tried to rape you the day we met."

I smiled at him. "You're my hero, Han, but if I'm along, I get dibs on killing her ass."

He chuckled. "That sounds fair."

# Chapter Twenty-Three

I spent three days in the bed, and whenever it was Jamar or Shane's turn to sit with me, I feigned sleep if I was awake enough to realize they were there. I didn't want to talk to or look at either one of them. I was still too raw from their disloyalty. Maybe if I hadn't been so injured and in such a vulnerable state, I could have had the ability to see their side of it, but I wasn't anywhere near that point.

On the morning of the fourth day, I woke to find myself alone, and I figured that must mean I was doing better. I had to use the bathroom, and the idea of one more time with the bedpan held no appeal. I was stiff and sore, but I managed not to scream or even whimper as I pulled myself out of bed slowly, an inch at a time.

When I stood up, I couldn't completely stand erect for a minute, and my entire back spasmed. I did whimper then, but it was all that passed my lips. Slowly, I straightened my spine, forcing my body into a familiar posture. My vertebrae cracked as I did so, making a sound that was awful, but actually provided relief from the pressure once I was standing upright. I wasn't going to be running marathons anytime soon, but I could shuffle to the bathroom on my own.

I did so, taking care of business before eyeing myself in the mirror above the sink. I looked like hell, so my next step was a shower. It was harder than I anticipated, and I had to sit down on the floor halfway through to take a rest. I finished washing from that position, and then realized I wasn't strong enough to get back to my feet. The hot water had become tepid, and I knew I'd soon be sitting in a cold shower if I didn't get up and turn off the water. Unfortunately, that proved to be beyond me, and reluctantly, I called for help, "Han, can you help me? I'm in the shower room."

Boots came running, and I grimaced when I realized it was Shane instead of Han. The stubborn part of me wanted to send him away, but I needed help, and I figured he owed me that much. I didn't look at him as I sat there, waiting for him to turn off the water and get a towel. He wrapped me in it carefully and lifted me into his arms.

Looking over his shoulder, not quite meeting his eyes, I said, "I can walk on my own. I just couldn't get up from a seated position."

He ignored my words. "You shouldn't have been in here by yourself. Call for help if you want to get up."

I rolled my eyes, but didn't bother to respond. I heard the concern beneath the command, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. I didn't want to look at him and see the regret or hurt that was probably in his expression too. He didn't deserve my forgiveness, and he certainly didn't deserve me to feel sorry for him for being such an idiot.

He took me back to the bedroom I usually shared with them, retrieving clean clothes for me and helping me dry off. It was humbling to need his assistance with even the basic things, like putting on socks, but I accepted the help. Really, what alternative did I have? If I'd insisted on Han, he might've fetched him for me, but he might not have either. It was better just to get it over with.

Once I was dressed in fresh sweats and a T-shirt, he pulled back the cover. I looked at it with disdain before glaring up at him. "I'm not going back to bed."

He frowned at me, his expression severe. Our gazes accidentally locked, and I saw the emotions I'd expected to see—remorse, guilt, and concern. I tried to harden my heart to him.

"You need to rest."

"I've done nothing but rest for the last four days. I'm done lounging around in bed, and if I end up having to go back to bed, I'll go to the one I share with Han. This isn't my room any longer, and I don't want to be here."

He flinched, and the guilt carved deep furrows in his face. "Don't say that."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why not? It's the truth. We're not together any longer. The idea of letting you or Jamar touch me turns my stomach." Okay, that wasn't entirely true. Even now, with all the anger and bitterness I felt, being this close to him was making my heart rate accelerate, and I could feel the familiar temptation to sway closer to him and brush my lips against the column of his throat. Of course I held myself back, being strong and not giving in to that weakness.

"We love you, Lyss. Jamar and I both love you. We fucked up, but we want to fix it."

I rolled my eyes. "How can you possibly make this right? I told you over and over again what kind of person she was, but you refused to see it. You just dismissed me as being jealous, and when it mattered most, you sided with her over me. There's nothing left to salvage."

He put his hand in my hair, carefully pulling my head back so he could bring his lips to mine. "There's still this."

I could have moved away, but I was trying to make a point. I wanted to prove I was impervious to the physical attraction, that I could withstand any temptation. Instead, heat flared in me the minute his lips touched mine, and I knew I was a deluded fool. I wanted him as much as I ever had, but the physical need couldn't blind me to the hurt I still felt.

I kissed him back for a moment before I managed to find the strength to put my hand against his chest and pushed him away. To his credit, he went without protest and didn't try to force me to prolong the kiss. "We still have chemistry, but that's it. The relationship's over."

He looked sad, but he nodded. "I hope you change your mind. I'll be waiting for you."

I arched a brow. "It's going to be a long wait."

Jamar found me in the room I'd been converting to the library before the incident with Kassandra and Wesley. I was thumbing through the book about chicken care that I'd read so many times before, pretty certain it was all burned into my brain, but wanting to be sure. It would be at least a week or two before I was up and around well enough to go on any runs, so I had enough time to ensure I had it all memorized.

I was seated in an inflatable chair Wesley had scrounged up from somewhere, which was surprisingly comfortable. It didn't put excess pressure on my sore back, and it even had a separate ottoman. I was surprised when Jamar stepped inside, and even more startled when he came to my side and dropped to his knees beside me, so we were roughly the same height. "I'm sorry, sugar. I feel awful I didn't give you the benefit of the doubt. I should've listened to you about that bitch all along, especially that last day. I don't have a defense for being stupid. Truly, I was acting on logic, and it seemed to suggest you could be the only culprit. I didn't even think about Wesley and his pansy-ass girl hands."

In spite of myself, I giggled. "He did have small hands for a man. Matched his dick."

Jamar flinched. "Did he violate you?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm just guessing he had a small package. Men like that tend to be compensating for something."

He brushed his knuckles down my cheek. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm here to beg for it. Even if you don't want to be involved with me anymore, I need to know you can at least be in my proximity, and we can still work together. The idea of losing you as a lover is killing me, but I can't bear it if you decide you have to leave us because of what happened with her. I promise I'll respect your wishes and whatever decision you come to if you'll at least agree to stay and try to get the group up and running again, functioning as a team."

His words resonated in me, and I stared at him solemnly. "I'm not planning to run off and leave the group. I like surviving too much. And I'd like it if we could be friends, but I can't be more than that now."

He looked regretful, but he nodded. "I truly do understand that, sugar. I can imagine how hurt and betrayed you feel over Shane and me taking her side. It doesn't matter why we did it. Whatever our thought processes or intentions, we turned against the woman we love. We were fools who were manipulated, but should have realized that. I have no right to ask you to share my bed or accept my love anymore. I remain hopeful, but I get it. I understand why you only want Han now."

He was so sincere, his voice almost broken, and I blinked back tears. "I want to still love you, Jamar...and I do. I love you, but right now, I can't trust you. That's shattered, and I'm not sure I can get it back."

He nodded his acceptance as he got to his feet. He bent down to press a kiss to my cheek. "Whatever you decide, sugar."

# Chapter Twenty-Four

It was Han who changed my mind. That surprised me, because he'd always wanted me to be just his woman, and now he finally had the chance for it to be like that. I didn't see how I could move past the anger and take Shane and Jamar back into a relationship. Han could have taken advantage of how I was feeling and guided me toward that direction, subtly reinforcing my decision to shut out the other two. Instead, proving to be the decent human being I'd always known he was, he worked at the other angle. "You need to try to forgive them, babe."

We were lying in our bed, and I shook my head, but looked up at him. "I've mostly forgiven them for what they've done, but I can't get past their actions to be more than friendly with them."

He rolled his eyes. "Bullshit, babe. You love them and want them just as much as you ever did. It's obvious whenever you're near them. You're letting hurt feelings keep you from admitting that to yourself. I don't agree with what they did, and neither do they. They know they were fucking dumbasses.

"I was a fucking dumbass too, and it cost me my best friend. Remember? Jorge couldn't understand how I let Selena manipulate me, and he couldn't forgive it. I'm not saying he was wrong, but it hurt to lose him. It hurt a lot more to lose my best friend than it ever did to lose her. I'm just asking you to consider the idea they've learned something from the experience, and they'd never do that to you again."

I clutched his shirt, trying to resist feeling a spark of hope. "Do you really believe that? Do you think they'd never do anything like this again?"

His gaze locked with mine, and his expression was confident. "I'm certain. If Kassandra strolled back onto base, they'd both shoot her without hesitation, I'm sure. I'm also positive they'd never fall for anyone else's manipulations, and they'd never turn on you again. They love you as much as I do, babe."

My lips trembled, and I fought the urge to cry. "I just don't want to be weak. Forgiving them, letting it all go, and returning to how we were... That's some weak-ass shit there, the kind of crap pre-apocalypse Alyssa would have done. I'm better than that now. Stronger."

His arm around me softened the sting of his words. "It takes more strength to love someone than it does to avoid love, Lyss. When you first joined our group, I wanted you, but I couldn't share you with anyone else. I wasn't strong enough to see how you could love me and love them, and it wouldn't diminish any of our connections. I see it now, and I understand how you can give all of yourself to each of us.

"I can imagine how much they're hurting. The idea of losing you just about killed me. When we were searching for you, I was frantic, and I probably made stupid and careless mistakes. I had to find you again. I had to know you were safe and back in my arms. I saw the same desperation in Shane and Jamar. For them, it was even worse, because it was their fault you were out there."

I squirmed. "That's not entirely true. I have my own share of responsibility for going off like an emo teen, just blindly following Wesley into whatever plans he had for me without using a bit of common sense. I should have stayed and fought, made them realize I was innocent, or at least waited until we found you, instead of just running away."

He nodded. "That's fair. We all reacted badly."

I shook my head. "You didn't have anything to do with what happened that day, hon."

He shrugged. "Maybe that's not true either. If I'd been more insistent with Shane and Jamar, trying to make them see the truth rather than arrive at it in their own time, maybe it would have helped them get there faster. The only thing I ever said was you weren't jealous of her. You just saw her as dangerous. I should have told them about Selena and how similar Kassandra was to her."

I smiled at him. "I don't know if it would have helped, since they had their heads so far up her ass." Despite my light tone, my thoughts were heavy.

Was he right? Was it weaker to avoid the possibility of being hurt again than to try loving them? Was I protecting myself and being strong by refusing to face how I still felt for Shane and Jamar, or was I hiding my heart because of fear, not wanting to risk it again? With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I reluctantly accepted Han was right. I'd been unable to face the idea of them hurting me again. They seemed sincere, and I was certain they were both genuinely sorry for having bought into Kassandra's act, but could I trust them?

That was the scary part—extending trust again. I didn't want to be hurt, and I didn't want to feel the awful sting of betrayal ever again. Could I accept the inherent risks in loving them if I welcomed them back to my bed?

I could lose any of them tomorrow. Would it hurt any less if we weren't still lovers? I didn't know. With a small sigh, I shook my head. "I need to think about it."

"Of course. I'd never try to force you to do something you don't want to, but I hope you'll consider the possibility there might still be a chance to make it work with them."

"And you?" I held my breath as I waited for his answer, wondering if he was understanding exactly what I was asking. If I was willing to be strong enough to try again, was he willing to be brave enough to join us, so it truly was the four of us in a relationship, rather than me feeling at times like my relationship with Han was separate from the one I had with Shane and Jamar?

There wasn't much of a relationship left with them at the moment, but if I opened myself to being vulnerable and allowed it to start again, I was certain I couldn't handle any more separating the three of them. I needed them all. "I think this is an all-or-nothing situation, Han."

He hesitated, but nodded. "I'm in. Once you make up your mind, if that's what you want, it'll be the four of us."

I didn't just throw myself back into bed with them, or instantly get back into the relationships. It was a slow process, because I had to feel a measure of trust before I could move forward, even if it was feeble to refuse to try. I couldn't be strong all the time, and when it came to protecting my heart, I was far more likely to be weak than when facing an external enemy.

As the weeks passed, neither Shane nor Jamar rushed me. They treated me gently and with respect, making it obvious they still cared, but not trying to push me into anything. Finally, I reached the point where I realized I was simply holding back because of fear. I was certain I could trust them to never hurt me in the same way again, so I should move forward.

We were bound to hurt each other upon occasion, because that happened in all relationships, but I was certain they had learned from their mistake. I had learned too. Trust would no longer come as easily as it had, but they had regained it. I still loved them, and they still loved me, so the only impediment to reconciliation was my fear of being hurt.

Fear could be a healthy thing, keeping you from running into a dangerous situation, but it could also hold you back and keep you from acting at all. I knew I was at that point now, and it pissed me off at myself. I didn't want to succumb to fear. I'd worked too hard to be stronger than that.

I was waiting for them in the bunkroom that evening before bed. They had moved out of our shared room and back to the bunkroom after I'd told them our relationship was over. The bedroom had remained unused since then, but I was hopeful it might be our shared space again after tonight.

Han entered the bunkroom shortly after they did, and he winked at me. I knew this was a big step for him too, but I couldn't have taken it without him. I needed to know we were all in it together.

Shane and Jamar seemed startled to see me, and they hadn't realized he was behind them yet. Jamar was the first to speak. "Do you need something, Lyss?"

I nodded, unable to speak. I let my body do the talking, too nervous to form spit to moisten my dry mouth and let words pass. Instead, I just shrugged out of the spaghetti-strap nightgown I'd been wearing, allowing it to pool at my feet.

I was wearing nothing underneath, and the blaze of hunger in their eyes was immediately gratifying. It had been a long time since the three of us had made love. I'd missed them and craved their touch, and I imagined it was the same for them. I was certain it had to be if they loved me as much as I loved them.

"What does this mean?" asked Shane hesitantly.

"It means I'm taking a chance, and I'd rather be with you than miserable without you. I'm trusting you won't hurt me again, at least not in that way and not deliberately, and I'm trying to show I feel the same way I always have. I love you both."

"We can touch you?" asked Jamar. His hands were already sliding down his pajama pants, revealing he wore nothing underneath.

I nodded, waiting for them to come to me. It wasn't a display of dominance. I simply couldn't move because my knees were trembling too much. I was ridiculously nervous, considering I'd been with every man in the room before, though never all three together at once.

Shane and Jamar stripped their clothes in record time, both standing on either side of me. Their mouths moved across my shoulders, nibbling and sucking. I lifted my hands to their heads. Jamar's was a smooth as ever, but Shane's scrubby short trim had grown into a thicker style, so I could curl my fingers into it.

I sent Han a challenging look, and his lips thinned, but he started removing his clothing. Unlike them, he hadn't already dressed for bed, so it took him a minute longer. They were startled when he was suddenly in front of us, and I giggled. "Way to stay frosty," I teased.

Jamar seemed unapologetic for his lapse of observation. "I was too busy focusing on you to realize Han was here too."

Shane said something, but I couldn't quite make it out because his mouth was too busy moving over my breast, teasing my nipple into a state of perpetual hardness.

"So how does this work?" asked Han.

I shrugged a shoulder, the one on Shane's side, since Jamar was still nibbling and sucking on my neck and shoulder on the other side. "I'm not sure about the logistics of it."

His eyes gleamed. "But surely you've thought about it? Imagined it? Longed for it?" As he spoke, he trailed his hand up my body, starting with my abdomen and tracing his fingers along my side until he could cup my breast. Han tugged gently on my nipple in a rhythm that was opposite to Shane's sucking of the other. The sensations made my stomach flutter, and heat filled my abdomen, spreading lower.

My face flushed, and I was embarrassed to share my fantasies, though we had been lovers for a long time before our recent separation.

"Tell us what you want," said Jamar, brushing his lips against my earlobe before biting gently. I trembled as vibrations shot down my spine. It felt so good to have them touching me.

"I've given it some thought," I admitted in a shaky voice. "I'd like all three of you at once, and there's only one way to make that happen." That was as specific as I could get with my tongue tied and a blush heating my cheeks.

Jamar cupped my chin and turned my face toward his, his lips molding to mine in a tender kiss. It started out gentle, but soon escalated as our hunger rose. Shane and Han continued playing with my breasts, and I gasped softly when a set of fingers surged inside my pussy. I recognized they were Han's and rode his hand while the three of them focused on making me feel good.

I felt a little selfish to be the focus of everything, but I couldn't seem to tear myself away long enough to return equal attention. I was trapped in the eye of the storm, incapable of moving as they ravaged my altruistic intentions, sweeping them away under the onslaught of passion.

It didn't take long for Han to elicit an orgasm from me, and my cry of pleasure seemed to snap the last of their control. There wasn't enough room on a bunk, so we all sank to the floor.

Shane was lying on his back, so I climbed on top of him, driven by fierce need that blocked out logic or any hint of hesitation. I had no hesitancy. I knew what I wanted, and finally, I was getting all three of them. It wasn't just a matter of want, but also of need. I needed them on a fundamental level, and I was certain everything was falling into place.

Shane guided me by cupping my hips and aligning my opening with his shaft. He pulled me down carefully, and I moaned as he filled me. Even blindfolded, I would have been able to identify each of my lovers' cocks. They were all different. Their erections felt unique, and they all had slightly different techniques. There was no way for them to disappear into the dark or blend into each other. When I was with them, even all of them, they each had all of me.

Han moved away from us for a moment, and I was keenly aware of his absence even as Shane began to lift me, sliding me fully up his erection before bringing me down again, snug against him. Jamar stepped forward, pressing the head of his cock against my lips, and my tongue darted out to taste him. He was already salty and sweet from his need, and I opened my mouth to take as much as I could. He and Shane were moving in tandem, both thrusting into my body in time with each other as though they'd planned it. It was like time had fallen away, and we'd never lost the intervening weeks. We fell into the familiar rhythms easily enough.

Han returned, and it reminded me we were introducing a new element. I moaned when his slippery fingers pressed into my backside, gently easing any resistance with the lubricant he'd applied beforehand. I heard the bottle squeeze again, followed by the sound of flesh against flesh, and assumed he was lubricating his cock. I'd had Shane and Jamar inside me a few times at the same time, but I'd never had three men take me at once. I held my breath for a moment as he eased inside, adjusting to his girth and thankful for the lube that eased his way.

When they were all inside me, they froze for a moment, and I wasn't certain if they shared a signal, or if we were all just reacting to the newness of the situation. Whatever it was, I savored the feel of them inside me, feeling our bond strengthen as they started to move, all working in concert.

Their moves were choreographed as though they'd practiced them, which I knew they hadn't. Like me, they must be relying on instinct to guide them, and they had instinctively synced, working together as a team to bring us all pleasure.

I didn't expect it to be any other way, and it was no surprise at all when I started to come, and they joined me. We all orgasmed at roughly the same time, which was the only way lovemaking like this could end. It was intense, and there was more to it than just getting off or indulging in a kinky ménage.

I was satisfied; physically gratified in a way I never been before, but also emotionally fulfilled. All the parts clicked into place, creating a complete picture. We were stronger together. I didn't know what else the future held for us, but we would face it together, as a team. That was how it should be.

Find the rest of the books in the series:

Surving Hell (Hell Virus #2)

<https://books2read.com/u/3k02gK>

* * *

Sharing Hell (Hell Virus #3)

<https://books2read.com/u/mqpeod>

* * *

Bleeding Hell (Hell Virus #4)

<https://books2read.com/u/mZPq5l>

* * *

Raising Hell (Hell Virus #5)

<https://books2read.com/u/4XXqQN>

# Bonus Excerpt of Surviving Hell (HV#2)

My legs were sore and wobbly, threatening to give out though I'd only crossed a few miles. I remembered with longing the days when I used to run for hours at a time, eating up the miles. Running was what paid for my college, my spot on the track team ensuring the scholarship that paid for my tuition, room, and board as long as I maintained a B-average and performed well for the team. I had done so with barely any effort at all, taking to college and the track team like I'd been born to it. That was before life went to hell. Literally.

When the HLV virus first appeared, I remained unaffected. It took out my mother and three sisters within the first month. My five-year-old brother and my father were dead by the second month, and I was on my own. When the vaccine became available, I signed up to take it simply because I had nothing else to do. They were offering food and shelter for those who needed it, and I needed it desperately if I planned to stay alive. I hadn't fully committed to that idea just yet, but I was too afraid to kill myself. By that point, I'd lost everything, so I didn't think I had anything else to lose.

I was wrong. Even now, I shuddered as I thought about just how wrong I'd been. My knees were wobbling like crazy, and I was relieved to see I was approaching a house. It had a neglected air, and as I approached, I was certain no one lived there any longer, but I was still cautious. I had no weapons, and I had no idea what the outside world was like these days. I'd spent almost a year held prisoner at Ft. Glacier, a secret Army base.

Warily, I approached the porch and dragged myself up, my heart racing from the exertion. I'd gone from running miles every day to being confined to a small hospital room/prison cell, though no one had called it that. There had been a gym on the base, but most of the soldiers wouldn't bother to take me there, so my sole exercise had been running around my room. No wonder I was weak.

When I reached the front door, I knocked tentatively at first. When no one answered, I knocked louder and still received no reply. Finally, I used the side of my fist and pounded on the heavy frame, calling, "Is anyone here?"

When complete silence greeted me, I decided it was safe enough to enter. I pushed open the door and stepped inside, only mildly surprised to find it unlocked. If the people inside had been ill from HLV, or had fled hoping to outrun the virus that eventually eliminated ninety percent of the population, they probably wouldn't have taken time to lock up behind themselves.

It was a typical family house, and it was obvious the family who owned it wasn't materially well-off. It was a basic farmhouse in the middle of a working farm, but I hoped it would have some of the supplies I needed.

The front door opened into the kitchen, and I went straight to the knife rack. I pulled out the large kitchen knife, along with a small paring knife. A shudder went through me at the idea of having to use either one. The chef's knife was purely for defense, though it was probably an inadequate weapon, but I knew what I had to do with the paring knife, and it made sweat bead on my brow. I tucked the smaller blade into the waistband of my scrub pants as carefully as possible, but gripped the larger knife in my hand.

It was a small house, and I was able to search it quickly and determined I had it to myself. There weren't even any dead bodies, and I wondered if the family had completely abandoned the property, but perhaps they had holed up in a cellar somewhere, hoping to evade the virus. Whatever they'd done, I hoped they had been luckier than my family, but I doubted it.

I went to the bathroom, automatically testing the faucet and disappointed to find no running water, but not surprised. Since this was a farm, I hoped there would be a well, and I left the smaller knife in the bathroom before forcing my jittery legs to exit the house once more, keeping the knife in my hand. If they tracked me here, I wasn't going to let them take me back. I didn't think I could fight off a group of soldiers with nothing more than a chef's knife, but at least I could end things on my terms.

Or so I told myself, but I really wasn't sure I'd have it in me to do that. If I hadn't killed myself when things were at the absolute worst, and I'd lost everyone I'd ever loved, I wasn't sure I could do it now just to escape those awful people who'd held me prisoner.

I found the well easily enough, and it had a hand pump. The thing was squeaky and groaned in protest for the first few pumps, but as I primed it, feeling like my shoulder would break and my arm would fall off, water suddenly spilled out of the faucet. I stopped pumping to reach for the bucket hanging handily on a hook. It looked old and a bit dirty but it would have to do.

I suspected the well had been more of a backup source of water and a decorative piece than an actual working device they needed every day. Even if they had used it on a daily basis, it could've been more than a year since they had needed it. It had been more than a year now since the first wave of the Hell Virus, which was what even the scientists at the base called it.

The first few pumps of water yielded something brown and disgusting, and when it went clear, I dumped what I'd already collected and filled the bucket with the clear water. I lugged the heavy bucket back into the house, spilling more than I'd anticipated, but still had an adequate amount to clean up and have a drink of water.

I washed as carefully as I could first, particularly the spot on my arm where I was sure they had put the tracking chip. It made sense that they would have injected it into me at the same time they gave me the vaccine for the HLV virus. If it hadn't been for Travis Briggs' big mouth, I wouldn't have even known it was there or suspected such a thing.

I shuddered as I looked in the streaked mirror, remembering how he had taunted me that he'd find me. Just thinking about him sent a phantom pain between my legs, and I winced. He hadn't managed to rape me, but his fingers had violated me as he prepared to do so. I'd been lucky to distract him and get my hands on his sidearm. I'd hit him as hard as I could, but hadn't completely knocked him out the first time.

That blow had only incapacitated him, but he'd still been his same cocky self, alert enough to promise me he'd tracked me down and find me. The way he said it, with such confidence, gave me the epiphany that I must have a tracking device somewhere in my body. I sincerely hoped it was in the spot where I'd gotten the injection, where a small knot had formed and never went away, because otherwise I would have to start searching for it in a blind fashion, and I couldn't imagine having to cut up parts of my body in pursuit of a tiny GPS chip.

He'd been so amused by my efforts that I'd been tempted to shoot him with his gun. I had no doubt that I could have done so, and I would have if the noise wouldn't have alerted the rest of the scientists and soldiers at the base that I'd shot the captain. Instead, I'd hit him on the temple again, this time making him fall silent. I supposed it was too much to hope that he'd died from his injuries. No doubt, someone had found him by now and was watching over him.

Which meant my time was growing shorter. With a deep breath for courage, I met my gaze in the mirror, barely recognizing my haunted brown eyes, framed by flowing brown curls. "You can do this, Sofia," I said to myself aloud and firmly. It didn't help much, but I felt slightly more confident as I pushed the tip of the paring knife into my skin. I cut as deeply as I dared, trying to remove the entire knot under the skin. I screamed, but kept the blade moving.

The pain was awful. The only thing that even came close was when I had been infected with the hemorrhagic version of the HLV virus after getting the vaccine. My nerve endings had burned far worse than this, and I had begged for death when I was in the throes of it. Surprisingly though, I had recovered. The scientists had been amazed, because apparently recovering from the vaccine-induced version of HLV was unheard of. I'd gotten through that, so I could get through this too.

When I had a ragged square cut in my arm, I dug the knife in to pop out the flesh, screaming and cursing the entire time. I should have been quiet, but it was impossible under the circumstances.

When I had the gob of flesh out of my arm, I cleaned the spot again and stuffed it full of gauze pads I'd found in the medicine cabinet. I probably needed stitches, but I didn't have the supplies or the knowledge, so this would have to do. I'd just have to hope I didn't bleed to death, and that it had been worth it.

With a lack of options, I took off my scrub top and used the larger knife to cut a line so I could rip off strands of fabric. I used four of them to tie the gauze pads in place, disgusted by how quickly it all turned red.

I wasn't done yet. I had to be sure. I leaned close to the chunk of my arm sitting on a hand towel I'd taken from the ring by the sink. It was red now, but had been white before. Using the paring knife in my left hand, while holding it awkwardly in my right as my arm throbbed, I cut through the flesh until I found what I was looking for.

Using some water, I washed off the tiny device before bringing it closer. It looked slightly larger than a grain of rice, but it was clearly metallic, and it flashed rhythmically. I didn't know what the light meant. Maybe it was linked to the battery, or perhaps it was just the general signal it sent out on a recurring basis. For all I knew, it was responding to some pinging they were doing in their search for me.

I put the device on the hand towel and crushed it with the handle of the knife. After that, I left the bathroom on my wobbly legs, searching the house as quickly as I could for anything useful. I found a dented can of fruit cocktail in the cabinet, but that was all that remained. There were a few changes of clothes in the smaller bedroom. Judging from the décor and the style of clothing, the family had included a teenage daughter.

We were almost the same size, and since she'd favored leggings and tunics, I was able to squeeze in to the pants well enough that they would work. Anything was better than the scrubs I'd worn for a year. The base had provided fresh pairs on a regular basis, of course, but it was always the same drab white scrubs, and without even any underwear. It was nice to have underwear again too, even if they did belong to a stranger.

Her bed was tempting, and I was running on the last fumes of my energy stores, but I knew I couldn't sleep here. If they tracked me to this place and found me sleeping, they'd have no trouble reacquiring me. Instead, I had to get as far away from here as I could before I took time to rest.

I loaded a few of the other girl's clothes into a backpack I found hanging in her closet before adding the flip-top can of fruit cocktail and a fork I'd taken from the kitchen. I kept the knife in my hand as I shrugged on the pack, careful to avoid my sore arm, and then I left the house. I didn't look back, and I forced my feet to keep moving long after I thought I would collapse forward on my face.

I spent that night in a barn that was part of a property several miles past the home where I had stopped to perform self-surgery. I briefly looked at the wound, relieved to find the bleeding had mostly stopped, but I didn't have it in me to change the dressing. I was just too exhausted. I could have stayed in the house that was on the property, but I was too weak to bother searching to make sure it was safe. It just felt more secure to sleep in the loft in the barn, and that's what I did.

When I woke the next morning, I felt a little better and up to the challenge of exploring the house. I found a little bit of food, but nothing else useful, and there were two dead bodies in the main bedroom. I hadn't seen a dead body since my father had passed away, the last of my family to go, and they'd been there a while. It was difficult, if not impossible, to tell whether they had died from the first wave of HLV or the second wave induced by the faulty vaccine that caused HLV to mutate into a hemorrhagic form. It didn't really matter, because they were dead, and there was nothing I could do for them.

I left the house quickly after that and kept walking, managing to overcome my weakness any time I felt the urge to stop and drop where I was with the motivating fear of being discovered by the soldiers and the scientists again. I couldn't go back to that, so the only choice was to keep going forward.

It was getting toward dusk when my luck changed, and maybe for the better finally.

# Hunted (Wounded Warriors #1)
# SciFi Romance Series Starters Bundle

## Aurelia Skye

#### Amourisa Press

### Contents

Blurb

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

Bonus Excerpt of Relentless (WW #2)

Author Bio
Amourisa Press and Kit Tunstall, writing as Aurelia Skye, reserve all rights to HUNTED. This work may not be shared or reproduced in any fashion without permission of the publisher and/or author. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© Kit Tunstall, 2017

Cover Image: Depositphotos.com/artofphoto; andymorehouse; arievedwolde

Cover design by Amourisa Designs

Edited by N.G. and CM Editing Services

This was formerly published under the Kit Fawkes pen name as "Running Bear." The only changes are to the cover and author name; the text is the same.

  Created with Vellum

# Blurb

When Wyatt turns his back on the world—and her—Gillian knows he's hurting and needs time to recover from whatever wounds were inflicted on his bear by the military. He reluctantly accepts her help as they flee from a secret group sent to eliminate the shifter-soldiers involved in a black-ops experiment, though he's determined to maintain an emotional distance from her. But bears mate for life, and his human mate is just as stubborn as he is. Nothing could hurt her more than losing him, and she's just the one to help her wounded warrior move from the past and into the future—if they have a future...

# Prologue

"Were you even going to say goodbye?"

Wyatt stiffened in the process of shoving the last box into the back of his Jeep. The familiar tone of his mate had startled him, indicating his bear was buried deep, as he'd planned. He should have felt guilt at her words, but he didn't feel much of anything. He steeled himself as he turned to face her, forcing away remorse when he saw her stricken expression. "It's better this way."

Gillian put her hands on her curvy hips, glaring at him. "Better for whom? We're supposed to be getting married, and you're just going to leave?"

He drew back his shoulders, trying to hide any hint of defensiveness. "The marriage proposal was made after we finished high school. A lot's changed in eight years."

Her big green eyes shimmered with tears, but he knew her well enough to know she'd fight letting them fall to the bitter end. Whenever she got angry, she had the urge to cry. He could tell she was furious with him, but also hurt and bewildered. He didn't need his bear's sense of smell detecting her pheromones to tell him that. If he concentrated, he could have discerned that information with his bear, but he was trying to suppress his bear instincts, and not call them forth.

"When we were thirteen years old, you told me I was your mate. That hasn't changed. It doesn't change for bear-shifters."

He winced, remembering the moment to which she was referring. It was shortly after his bear had started stirring in his head, and one day he looked at his classmate—a girl he'd known all his life, since they'd grown up in the same small town—and she had been different. His bear had growled possessively in his head, and he'd known then she belonged with them.

With all the sensitivity and subtlety of a Mack truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant, he had cornered her after school one day and told her about his revelation. At first, she had been skeptical, but then he'd shifted for her, and after that secret was out, she hadn't doubted his bear's sense any longer. She'd known from then she was his mate, and they had been together ever since, aside from the years they'd separated after high school while he was in the military, only coming home briefly for leaves.

Even then, she hadn't shown any sign of doubt. Even as he'd become more withdrawn, she remained resolute. He hadn't seen her at all for the last three years, when the military suddenly withdrew his team's permission to leave the base, unless they were on a mission, but when he did finally come home, she'd been waiting.

She'd been wasting her time. He was a new man, and his bear was only a sullen presence in his head occasionally now. He needed it to be that way, and after what had happened that afternoon, he had to leave and get as far away from people as he could, including Gillian.

Realizing he had never answered her, he said, "My bear's practically nonexistent these days. I'm not going to hold you to an old promise."

Her glare deepened. "I want to be held to that promise. I've been waiting for you. Even when you lost contact and stopped calling or visiting, I knew there had to be a good reason. I haven't given up on us."

He forced himself to sound completely unemotional, though there was more than a twinge of regret when he uttered the words he had to say, "I have. I'm leaving."

A single tear escaped, and he knew it must have cost her a great deal to let it out. "Why are you leaving? It doesn't make sense. You've only been back a few weeks. You won't talk about what happened, and you barely allow me to see you. Now you're leaving? Tell me what's going on, Wyatt."

He focused on the most pertinent question. "You saw what happened this afternoon. I nearly killed Clayton Walsh."

She waved a hand, as though that wasn't a concern. "Clayton Walsh is a jackass, and he was about to hit his pregnant wife. You did the right thing interceding."

Some of the emotions he tried to suppress surged to the forefront, including a strong dose of anger. "Interceding was the right thing, but shifting into the bear and laying into him until six townsfolk had to pull me off wasn't. It wasn't my place to render a verdict or dole out justice. I crossed the line from protecting someone to nearly killing someone else. I can't control the bear, so I have to get away from people."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression placid. "Fine. I'll come with you then."

Wyatt shook his head, turning away from her to finish loading his things and closing the cargo door before turning back to her. "You can't come with me."

"We promised forever," she said in a clear, strong voice.

He stared at her. "We were thirteen, and everything is different now."

She shook her head. "I refuse to believe you simply stopped loving me despite whatever happened to you. I want to be there for you and help you get through this. If you feel like you need to get away from people, we'll go somewhere with just the two of us."

"I'm not safe to be around." His words came out as more of a growl than actual syllables, and he could feel his control wavering. "I could hurt you."

She shook her head. "You'd never do that."

Before he could stop himself, he surged forward, one hand clamped around her throat as he dragged her closer to him. He allowed some of the turbulence inside to show in his eyes as his hair bristled, starting to turn to fur on his arms. "I can't control it. I have to get rid of it, and until I do, I'm a danger to everyone I'm around."

Considering how he was holding her, and his obvious anger, she appeared remarkably calm. "What do you mean, get rid of it?"

"The bear," he said with another snarl as he pushed her away suddenly. "I can't control it. They did things to me..." He trailed off, having no intention of sharing his nightmare with his mate.

No, she wasn't his mate anymore. She had been identified by the bear, and he had to excise everything that had anything to do with that side of his nature, including Gillian.

"You can't just get rid of half of your nature. The bear's part of you. Please let me help you, Wyatt." She held out a hand to him as she spoke, her voice trembling.

He looked away from her, too tempted to give in for just a moment. Only a brief moment spent imagining her broken and torn body after his bear gained the upper hand and turned on her allowed him to withstand the pleading in her voice and the need in her eyes. "I can't take you with me. Don't you understand it would destroy me if I did something to hurt you? What if I killed you?"

She sniffled, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands. "I'm sure you'd never do that."

"And I'm just as sure that I could. You have to let me go, Gillian, because I can't stay."

She shook her head. "I'll go with you," she said again.

"If you still love me at all, and you seem to, you have to let me do the right thing. Turn around and walk away, unless you want to see me driving out of town. Say goodbye now and forget about me."

Sadness appeared in her expression, and this time when tears flooded her eyes, she made no attempt to hold them in check. He could tell the difference from her angry tears, and if he'd been able to feel much of anything, her face would have broken his heart just then. Luckily for both of them, as he'd spent time distancing himself from the bear, it had also blunted his emotions, and he wasn't able to feel her pain deeply enough to allow it to sway him.

Without another word to her, he turned away and walked around to the front of the Jeep. He started the vehicle and pulled forward. In a moment of weakness, he allowed himself one final glance in the rearview mirror. He was unsurprised to see Gillian still standing there, arms crossed over her chest, and tears streaming down her face. It was a heart-wrenching site, but he kept going, in fact pressing the accelerator harder down to the floorboard.

Leaving her was the right thing, the only thing he could do to ensure she remained safe. She'd get over him. Gillian was just a human, so she didn't feel the mate bond that his bear recognized. He didn't feel it very much at the moment either, and he was relieved for the reprieve. He had enough guilt on his conscience that he didn't want to add another face to the long list that paraded through his mind. He was certain Gillian was bound to pop up anyway, but at least he knew he was doing the right thing even if it hurt her.

He drove straight through Shifter Springs without looking at the buildings lining the tiny Main Street. He kept his gaze focused straight ahead, except for when he reached one of the town's two four-way stops. He glanced briefly from left to right to determine it was clear and kept going. Soon enough, Shifter Springs was little more than dust behind his wheels.

He was about thirty minutes out of the town when he realized he couldn't completely disappear. There might be a genuine emergency. It was just him and Garrett left now, since their parents had both passed on, but he couldn't leave without telling his brother where he was going.

He pulled over to the side of the dark road, leaving his headlights on to cut a swath through the thickness of the night, and extracted his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed his younger brother's number, and Garrett answered on the second ring, sounding tired. A glance at the clock revealed it was after eleven p.m., and his brother had no doubt been asleep for a while, since he was still attending the family farm and ranch. "I'm leaving, Garrett."

All trace of sleep disappeared from Garrett's voice when he answered. "For how long this time, Wyatt? Did the government call you back to service?"

"I'm leaving forever. I can't be around people. I wanted you to know where I'm going to be, but you aren't allowed to tell anyone, and you can only contact me if it's a true emergency."

"I've been expecting this," said Garrett softly. "Where are you headed?"

"The bugout cabin high in the mountains."

Garrett let out a low whistle through his teeth. "I don't think Mom and Pop finished building everything before they passed. It's probably a mess up there. Unlivable."

"I'll make it work. You know where to find me, but don't look unless you absolutely have to."

"What about Gillian? Is she with you?"

"No, and she won't be. Most of all, you can't tell her where I'm at, and I need your word on that."

Shock bled through Garrett's voice. "She's your mate, and you can't just turn your back on her."

"She's not my mate anymore. I released her from the promise, and I have to turn my back on everything if I'm going to survive—and if people will survive me."

"You're making a mistake. She's your mate. Your bear told you that years ago. You can't just undo that."

"Watch me," said Wyatt coldly. "Do I have your word? If not, I'll find somewhere else to stay, and you won't have any means to contact me."

With what sounded like a heavy sigh, his younger brother capitulated. "Fine, I won't tell anyone where you are or try to find you unless it's a dire emergency."

"Especially Gillian," he prompted.

"Especially Gillian," repeated Garrett with obvious exasperation. "I still say you're making a mistake."

"It's a good thing it's mine to make then," said Wyatt with a hint of coldness. He didn't bother with goodbyes. He simply hung up the phone, rolled down his window, and tossed it onto the road. Though he had been suppressing his bear as much as possible, he still had a keen sense of hearing and eyesight, and he both saw and heard the flimsy device shatter as soon as it hit the asphalt. With a nod of satisfaction, he rolled up his window, put the car in gear, and kept driving without allowing even one more look behind him.

# Chapter One

> _Eighteen months later_

The sound of someone knocking on his door was so unexpected and foreign that Wyatt dropped the teakettle he'd been filling into the sink with a loud clatter. He quickly turned off the water, cursing under his breath, and moved to the front door. On the way, he grabbed a handgun from the open gun safe. Since it was just him at the cabin, he didn't bother to lock it anymore. There was a mountain lion that liked to hang around, and he'd had to fire a warning shot more than once to discourage it from getting closer.

His bear could have dissuaded the mountain lion from hanging around, but Wyatt had successfully locked the beast deep inside. He could barely transform anymore even if he wanted to, and it made his life easier, though he was still in an emotionless void.

Or so he thought, until he opened the door and saw Gillian standing there. Myriad emotions filled him, chief among them anger at the sight of her and Garrett's betrayal at revealing his location, along with a fierce wave of longing he quickly suppressed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Wyatt spoke more harshly than he'd intended, but the sight of her had sent his bear surging to the forefront, bringing the animal to life in his mind in a way it hadn't for several months. He had gotten accustomed to the near-silence of ignoring his ursine side. To have her shatter that was an unexpected and unpleasant shock. "You shouldn't be here. Garrett promised he wouldn't tell anyone where I was unless it was an emergency."

Gillian stared at him, expression revealing nothing. "It is."

He snorted. "I'd hardly call it an emergency if you've come to change my mind. I haven't altered my decision. I'm finally at a place where I have some balance, and I can't risk letting anyone in."

"Yes, but if you—"

He put up a hand. "There's nothing you can say that will change my mind, Gillian. You were my mate once, but you aren't anymore."

She flinched, but her lips pursed, indicating she was digging in her heels. "I think you've made that plain, but I'm here for a reason."

"I don't want to hear the reason. It's not going to change anything." He started to close the door, surprised when she shoved her foot into the space between the door and the jamb. If he wanted to close it fully, he'd have to hurt her to do so. He wasn't that big of a bastard yet. "There's nothing here for you."

She let out a sound of frustration, a sound he rarely heard from her in all the years he'd known her. It sounded almost like a shriek. "I'm here because Sam, Joanna, and Donnie are dead."

He faltered for a moment. "Who?"

"Jax, Jester, and Dick, short for..." She trailed off, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Dick face," he filled in softly, realizing who she meant when she used the call signs for his former teammates. A wave of grief washed over him, threatening to stir to life all the emotions he'd been suppressing, and he quickly eased away from allowing himself to feel anything when he heard the bear roar in the back of his head. It was the most verbal the animal had been for months. "I'm sorry to hear that. How do you know?"

She licked her lips, those gorgeous, full lips he sometimes still dreamed about, though he'd never admit that to her. "After you left so abruptly, I reached out to former members of your team, trying to find out what happened, and why you were so broken. I know some of the details, but they're all pretty scant with information. I wasn't at all surprised to find most of them are in various states of broken as well, so you must have all gone through hell. In the process, I made friends with several of them. When I didn't hear from them for a while, I started to get concerned, and I finally got hold of one again. Malcolm."

He allowed a faint ghost of a smile to touch his lips as he thought about his former team leader. Mal had not needed a call sign, since Mal had been close enough to all the adjectives that described him—malcontent and maladjusted, primary among them. "What is Mal up to these days? Still as crazy as ever?" He posed the question affectionately, surprised at the surge of warmth sweeping through him that slipped past his defenses. Like everything else, he tried to blot out memories of his teammates and friends, needing to disconnect himself from the world in order to control his bear.

"I don't think he's crazy at all," she said with a hint of chill in her tone. "He's the one who told me three of your teammates are dead in strange accidents, and at least three are missing or out of contact. He said they're coming for you."

Wyatt stiffened, inadvertently allowing his hold on the door to go lax enough for her to slip inside and slam the door behind herself. He didn't miss how she carefully checked that both of the locks were engaged. Her paranoia was contagious, but he shook his head. "Mal always assumed they'd eliminate us, but if they had planned to do that, they wouldn't have just discharged us from service after the funding for the program ended. They would have eliminated us then."

She looked intrigued. "What program? I can't get any answers out of any of you."

"It's classified, top-secret stuff that I'm not allowed to discuss even now. I can't tell anyone."

She let out that same sound of frustration, though modulated in a lower tone. "Why are you continuing to be loyal to people who're hunting you?"

He made a scoffing sound. "Hunting me? Mal's a good guy, but he's always seen the worst in everything, especially the government. He was bitter about what they did to us, and he let it taint his life outside the military. The Army isn't tracking us down, and if you've come all this way just to tell me about three of my teammates being dead, I appreciate the effort, but I have no intention of going to funerals or memorial services or whatever anyone has planned."

"There won't be services, as far as I know. Joanna had a heart attack in the middle of a marathon. Sam's house went up in a gas explosion, and Donnie supposedly got a cramp and died while swimming."

He felt the stirring of unease at the deaths. A heart attack in a healthy woman in her thirties sounded suspicious, but was entirely plausible. He had a difficult time believing Sam, who had been a hyena-shifter, hadn't smelled a gas leak before it ignited, but he could have been sleeping and didn't wake up in time to escape. The last one was what caught his attention. Donnie had been a seal-shifter, and the odds of him dying while swimming were astronomical.

His gaze cut to the locks on the door almost automatically, and he gripped the gun in his hand more tightly as he turned away from her to go to the back room. Of course she followed, but he was focused on reaching Malcolm at the moment.

He sat down at the table housing the small military radio he'd taken with him at Mal's behest. All of his former teammates had the same model, and they had predesignated frequencies to contact each other. He tuned to the emergency frequency Mal had established, freezing for a moment at the sound of his friend's voice filling the room. It took a moment to realize it was a recording.

"—for sanctuary. There's a chip in your shoulder. Or I assume there is. There was one in the shoulder of the soldier I took down before leaving, and I found one in mine in the same spot when I looked. You're going to have to dig around and find it, because if you leave it in, they'll be able to follow you anywhere. My fellow teammates, they're coming for us. It's time to head for sanctuary. There's a chip..."

He listened to the entire recording again, this time writing down the coordinates as Mal gave them in code. It was a code they had established and used among themselves, not an official military code. Joanna had been a gifted encrypter, and she had been the one to make it secure, so he trusted that if anyone overheard the transmission, they would have a difficult time discerning the coordinates.

With a sigh, he pushed back from the table, stood up, and turned to look at her.

She was nibbling on her lower lip in a way that betrayed how nervous she was. Her eyes were filled with anxiety when she met his gaze. "The last time I got hold of Mal, it was him directly. It wasn't a recording. I didn't use a secure frequency though. I only have the one, but I assume there's more than that?"

He nodded. "Nothing's truly secure though, even with part of the message encoded. I need you to do something for me."

She didn't even hesitate, and that cut through him, because after the way he'd treated her for the last eighteen months, she would have been well within her rights to tell him to go to hell. For that matter, she didn't have to come warn him at all. For a moment, he speculated there was still love there, but quickly shoved aside the idea. It didn't matter if there was. Being away from her was what was best for her. Best for everyone.

"How can I help you?"

"I need you to cut open my shoulder and dig around."

She went pale and started sweating, shaking her head in the process. "I can't do that."

He abruptly remembered their freshman biology class, when they had been paired together to dissect the frog. The first cut in its stomach had made her turn a similar shade, and she'd ended up vomiting all over the floor. He'd finish the dissection, and the teacher had pretended not to notice that he had done all the work.

He almost chuckled as he recalled her face then, but too much had happened for him to truly feel amused. "You're going to have to. I can't see what I'm doing, and if there really is a chip in my shoulder, I need to get it out. If there's nothing there, I can safely dismiss this all as Mal's paranoia."

Her lips tightened, and she nodded her head once. She turned on her heel and marched from the back room, heading down the hallway to the kitchen. By the time he entered behind her, she had found her way to the knife block and withdrawn the chef's knife and a thinner paring knife.

The sight of those in her hands gave him pause for just a moment, and he swallowed thickly as he contemplated just how much he had hurt her. Would he blame her if she suddenly drove the chef's knife into the base of his skull instead of using it to slice his shoulder? Would he even care? Going through the motions of living every day had gotten old. He wasn't suicidal, but he wasn't exactly quaking at the prospect of death either. In a way, if the government was really out to get him, it might be a blessed relief to let them just have him.

With a shake of his head, dismissing his defeatist thoughts, he turned away from her and sat down at the kitchen table. He held his breath as she got nearer, his enhanced senses able to discern the hitch in her breathing, coupled with a sudden spike of fear in her pheromones.

He hadn't smelled another living person's pheromones for months, not since his last trip down the mountain for supplies, and he wasn't certain if it was an ability that had been blunted like everything else, or if his bear was surging back to life now that she was here. Or perhaps it was just a lack of contact with everyone, and he would have had the same response with anyone. He didn't know, but he didn't like thinking that having her near was bringing the bear closer to the surface. He had to get rid of her as soon as possible.

She hesitated for a long time, even after he let out a lengthy sigh and stripped off his shirt, trying to prompt her to continue. "Just do it."

"I can't," she said in a shaky voice.

With a sigh of impatience, partially because he wanted to know if Mal was right, and also because he just wanted to get rid of her before he lost control, he allowed the bear to slip through just enough for claws to extend from his fingers. He slashed at both sides of his shoulders, having no idea which one might have the chip, and hissed in agony as pain rushed through him.

When the bear tried to take over, surging to the forefront with a roar that seemed to be prompted by the smell of his own blood, he gritted his teeth, cursed under his breath, and forced back the beast before it could take over. In just seconds, he felt like he had lost all the progress he'd made in the past year-and-a-half, and anger stirred within him.

"That might have been a bit drastic," she said, her voice still shaky. "I think I see something though."

"Get it out," he demanded with a growl in his tone.

Her breath and her fear underlying her pheromones indicated she wanted to protest, so he was almost surprised when he felt the knife slicing through his left shoulder a moment later, digging deeper into the incision he made himself. Incision was hardly the right word though, unless a bear could perform delicate surgery.

He winced and clamped down his teeth, grinding until the sound filled the room as she dug around carefully in his flesh. After what felt like tortuously long minutes, but was probably only a few seconds, the blade moved away. There was one last sharp pain as she wrenched something from his flesh, and then she leaned across him and dropped it on the table.

Even in pain, he was suddenly aware of her proximity, her warm feminine curves pressing briefly against him, and the cinnamon scent of her shampoo. She must still use the same brand. It took everything he had not to bury his face in the golden-red strands and force his expression to remain impassive as she moved away, coming around from behind him to sit at the table on his other side.

She looked at his shoulders, her expression one of confusion. "Why don't you shift and heal yourself?"

He gritted his teeth as he shook his head. "I don't shift anymore." The words were angrier than he'd intended, but he was still in the throes of the rage he felt at having lost so much progress in such a short amount of time.

In an attempt to focus elsewhere, and direct his thoughts from sex and anger, a bad combination, he looked down at the device she had dug from his shoulder. It was small, certainly less than half an inch by half an inch, and it had been in his body at least since he'd gone into the special program during his last three years in the military. It still blinked, a blue light flashing every few seconds.

With a small roar, he brought his fist down and crushed it with one blow. The little device seemed to confirm Mal's message, and he was certain the government was coming for him. They had known where he was all along, so he must be somewhere on their list. If they'd already managed to take out six of his teammates—at least three confirmed kills and three MIAs—it couldn't be long before they got to him. If he wasn't going to turn himself in peacefully and accept his fate quietly, he had to get out of there right then.

He looked up. "It's time to go."

She nodded. "I have my car, but your Jeep might be a better option."

He compressed his lips. "It's time for you to go home is what I meant. I still have to plan what I'm going to do, but it doesn't include you."

Her hurt was raw and visible on her face. "I want to come with you. I want to help."

He shook his head. "It's out of the question."

"You can't send me back there. They probably know how much I know by now, and I'll be a target too."

He shook his head. "I doubt they paid any attention to you at all. You're nothing in the scheme of things."

"I was your fiancée, and your mate, if they know anything about that side of your nature. I'm sure I've come under scrutiny, especially since I've been in contact with your teammates. They could use me against you."

He felt like the world's biggest bastard when he forced himself to say, "That would only work if you meant something to me."

For just a moment, she looked like he had physically punched her in the face, and she drew in a deep, ragged gasp. After a moment, her expression calmed, and she sounded dignified when she spoke again. "We both know you're full of shit. Somewhere inside, you want me and love me just as much as you used to. Now's not the time to discuss all that, but you can't pretend like I don't mean something to you, and you can't ignore the fact that if you don't take me with you, it's like sending me somewhere to die. Are you that disconnected from what we had and what we were? Are you okay with just letting me die?"

He closed his eyes, letting out a long sigh before opening them again. "Of course not. We need to get out of here right now though. If Malcolm is right, and they're really coming for us, they know right where I am." A sense of violation swept over him as he realized they had implanted him with a chip to track him. Without his permission or knowledge, they had been keeping tabs on him for years. It was disgusting, and if any of the people involved in the program had been in the room, he wouldn't have hesitated to unleash the bear on them. It was what they would have deserved, since they had turned his bear into such a lethal weapon anyway.

She didn't argue or hesitate as he directed her to gather nonperishable items in a large plastic tote while he went back to the gun safe. He emptied it of weapons and ammo, shoving them into a large duffel bag in a matter of minutes. When he returned to the kitchen, he found her struggling to lug the plastic tote to the table. He took it from her easily, his bear moaning in the back of his head when his hand brushed hers.

He did his best to suppress his and his animal's reaction to the simple touch. It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to reach out to her, and even an accidental brush of her hand against his was enough to send his heart racing. He didn't have time for that, and he still couldn't afford to lose control. In spite of the external danger, he couldn't compromise on allowing her to get close to him again. She was in just as much danger from him as she was from the government coming to kill him.

They left the bugout cabin less than five minutes later, after he had loaded the bag of weapons in the back alongside the food. Before closing the door, he opened the bag just long enough to extract one of the smaller handguns, which he pressed into her palm. "It's loaded, but the safety's on. Do you remember how to use it?"

She nodded, slipping it into the waistband of her jeans, which made him flinch at the thought. She should have a holster for safety, but he didn't have anything like that available to offer her.

"It's not exactly the same model I taught you to shoot with, but it's pretty close. It has more of a recoil, but it's the lightest one I have."

She nodded. "I remember how to shoot." Her eyes softened, and her breath grew uneven for just a moment. "I remember all about that summer."

His nostrils flared as he detected her sudden sense of desire, and he groaned softly as he remembered that summer too. It was when they had become lovers during long days spent at the lake, sometimes swimming, sometimes just lounging with friends, and occasionally spiced up with shooting lessons when she had expressed an interest in learning how to shoot.

The nights had been the most memorable part. Though they had been just seventeen, it hadn't taken them long to figure out what the fuss was about, and how to please each other.

He slammed the door on the back of the Jeep as hard as he could, hoping to jar loose the memory and shove it away. "Get in. We have to go." He spoke gruffly, doing his best to separate from her, both physically and emotionally, as he went around the other side of the Jeep and climbed into the seat. She took the passenger side, and he had to physically force himself to remain still rather than hugging the door to put more space between them. He would only look like an idiot, and it wouldn't do anything to soothe his sudden, raging need for her.

He turned the key, and the Jeep started immediately. He didn't take it down the mountain very often, but he kept the maintenance up-to-date. It wasn't just a matter of practicality, but was also a way to keep himself busy and to keep his mind off thoughts he didn't want to dwell on.

They crested to the end of the driveway and were about to head down the steep hill when he heard the familiar _whomp, whomp, whomp_ sound of helicopter blades approaching. Considering he had never heard aircraft in the eighteen months he'd lived in the bugout cabin, it seemed like too big of a coincidence that one would suddenly fly by. He doubted the helicopter could hold anything but the soldiers sent there to eliminate him. They had run out of time.

# Chapter Two

Wyatt slammed his foot onto the gas pedal, making the Jeep shudder before it surged forward down the hill at a breakneck speed. It was careless and dangerous, but so was allowing the helicopter to trap them at the cabin.

They made it halfway down the steep driveway before the helicopter changed course to approach. There was no warning or no demand to stop. The helicopter simply fired upon them, using large-caliber bullets from the guns attached to the interior. The door was open so whoever manned the gun could fire at them, but he couldn't make out enough detail between trying to maintain control of the Jeep and avoid the brilliant flashes of gunfire destroying his night vision to discern how many might be occupying the helicopter. Even his bear's senses weren't enough to answer that question.

One of the bullets hit the car, and the Jeep shuddered and stalled. From the hissing sound, he guessed they had either busted the block or taken out the radiator. Maybe both. Either way, the Jeep wasn't going to go much farther. He turned sharply on the steering wheel, veering off the gravel driveway and into the bumpy overgrowth of the forest around them. The Jeep jostled and bumped along the uneven terrain, and he heard Gillian cry out, but couldn't look away from the path in front of him to determine the cause of her expression of either pain or fear.

The Jeep made it farther than he'd expected, probably at least a quarter of a mile off the driveway before it shuddered to a halt, completely seized. It was useless, but he tried turning the ignition, and not a thing happened. The Jeep was definitely dead. "Come on. Hurry up, and stay close to me."

She didn't argue as she slid from her side of the Jeep and met him around the back. He opened the door and scooped up the duffel bag of weapons, reluctantly leaving the food she had packed. They couldn't take both, and the guns would be more useful in the current situation.

It felt natural to take her hand in his, and though he told himself it was so he wouldn't lose track of her as they circled back around and tried to make their way to the cabin, he couldn't deny how good it felt just to hold her hand.

He allowed a bit of the bear to slip through the myriad filters he'd placed in his mind, needing the extra boost to his senses. He was able to discern the helicopter had paused near the driveway, close to the house, and he counted five soldiers jumping out. He breathed a small sigh of relief when the helicopter lifted into the air and flew away a moment later. They would either be returning shortly for the troops they had dropped off, or perhaps the soldiers would have to make their own way back, but at least they didn't have to deal with the helicopter for the moment. "Do you have your keys?" He asked the question in little more than a whisper.

She reached into her purse and pulled them out. When she would have dropped them in again, he intercepted, taking them from her hand. "You might lose your purse, so the keys need to be on one of us." Not giving her a chance to argue, he dropped her keys into his pocket before he slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and took her hand again, pulling her against him. "Try to move as quietly as you can. I don't know who we're dealing with, but there are five of them. Our objective is to circle back around and secure your car. If you get the chance to shoot one, take it. Don't hesitate."

With his increased sense of sight, he could see how her lips trembled and how wide her eyes were even though there was barely more than a fingernail moon in the sky. She was also shivering, and he wasn't certain if that was fear or because the autumn night was cold. He didn't have any way to warm her up at the moment, so she'd just have to endure for the next few minutes.

They moved slowly and carefully, though he could have increased their pace a bit. He was more cautious than usual, since he was also looking out for a civilian. It had been almost two years since he'd seen active duty, but instinct quickly returned, and it was like being back in the field again. It could have been just yesterday he'd been hunting the enemy.

That the enemy wore the same uniform he had donned, and came from the country he had served, no matter how indirectly, was a crushing blow. Betrayal burned hot in him, fueling his rage, and he had to take a moment, standing still as he breathed deeply to regain control. He couldn't afford to lose his focus in the throes of anger.

Before they started moving again, he froze at the rustling sound off to their left. He let go of her hand, but just so he could put a hand to his lips, brushing his finger against them in a universal sign to be quiet.

When the attack came, it was from the right rather than the left. He grunted as a soldier ran toward him. Wyatt launched into gear, throwing himself forward to tackle the soldier and take him to the ground. The form under his was solid and bulky, and the scent was human, but not quite. He wasn't shifter either. He was something completely new, a hybrid of the two, plus something else.

There was no time to analyze all the information his sense of smell provided as he focused on surviving the attack. The soldier was strong, almost as strong as he was, and he'd benefited from training and recent exercise that Wyatt hadn't. He ran every morning, but it wasn't the same as hauling around a forty-pound rucksack and running in army boots for twenty miles at a time.

He'd also gotten slightly rusty on his hand-to-hand combat, and it was for that reason the soldier was able to stick him in the ribs with a knife. It hurt like crazy, but it wasn't quite high enough to do any permanent damage. As much as he didn't want to, he had to let out the bear, at least enough to deal with the soldier beneath him. He brought back his arm, allowing his claws to extend in much the same way he had when he had slashed his shoulders to force Gillian to look for the chip.

He used all of his strength to bring the paw down against the soldier's face, blinking when the man's features seemed to change just before the claws raked down his face. He used his other arm, allowing claws to form, and mauled the soldier until the man stopped moving underneath him, other than an occasional twitch. For good measure, he brought his claws across the jugular of the soldier, killing him with only a little twinge of remorse. It was a survival situation, and he couldn't risk leaving an injured soldier who might come after him and Gillian again.

It was as though thinking of her had caused her to make a sound, and she cried out. He looked over, a growl low in his throat as he jumped to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his side. Another soldier had his arms around Gillian, holding her in a crushing parody of a hug. She was clearly having difficulty breathing, and her arms were trapped.

He strode forward, intent on tearing the soldier off her, but before he could, another jumped at him. He became aware at the last moment and turned to meet the soldier before she could get off the shot. His claws were still out, and he hit her as hard as he could, ensuring his claws raked her face.

He grimaced when he realized her face wasn't quite human. She had the basic shape of a human, but her features had elongated and taken on a feline look. She'd sprouted whiskers, and her own hands were more like paws with claws, just like his. She dropped the gun she'd aimed at him, but there was still a handgun at her waist. As she went for it, he lunged forward and took her down, surprised by the strength required. It was similar to what he had faced with the other soldier, and it certainly wasn't human. It would have been expected for a shifter, but like her comrade, she didn't have quite the pheromone signature to suggest she was a shifter _or_ human.

She was definitely a hybrid of the two, with something else thrown in. He didn't have time to dwell on that thought for the moment as he fought with her, finally gaining the upper hand and pressing his claws into her neck. Her blood spurted out, making the fur bristling on his fingers sticky, but he had little time to worry about the disgusting sensation. He dealt with her as quickly as he could, hoping Gillian was still alive.

As he started to turn, he jerked at the sound of a gun firing. With a small growl, he spun around, praying it wouldn't be the soldier shooting Gillian.

Instead, it was Gillian with her gun. Somehow, she had freed herself enough to reach the pistol he'd handed her, and now she was firing repeatedly into the soldier. After six shots, the man was still trying to get up. Like the female soldier, he was partially shifted between a human and a wolf, with an elongated snout and viciously sharp teeth. He seemed to take the shots, and they did little to faze him. He wasn't getting up, but he wasn't staying down either. He kept trying to gain his feet, and he managed a little more between each shot.

Finally, with a small sob, she changed her aim from his trunk to his head. As Wyatt reached her, she fired the pistol three times in quick succession, and the soldier's face disappeared. When his body fell this time, it didn't move.

He put an arm around her, as a sign of comfort and to assess any physical damage. He inhaled her pheromones, detecting mostly fear and only a little pain. He doubted she was seriously injured.

When he started to take the pistol from her, she clung tighter to it and shoved it back into her pants, his gaze telling him she flicked on the safety as she did so. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to be unarmed after that.

"What are they?" she asked quietly, her voice still thick with fear.

He stared down at the remains of the soldier she had shot nine times. "I don't know, but they aren't shifters and they aren't human. I don't know exactly what they are. I do know there are still two out here, so we need to get going before they find us."

She walked along beside him, holding her hand in his. He clung tightly to her, though he knew it was sending the wrong message. Since he'd been the one to take her hand the first time, it would have been wrong to shove her way, though his instincts urged him he was getting too close again.

He couldn't afford to allow himself to soften, or to let the emotions threatening to flood through him overwhelm him. The more he felt, the closer the bear was to the surface. He had to keep the beast locked away at all costs, having seen what that side could do after the program.

They made it back to the cabin without running into the other two soldiers, and he was relieved, but slightly surprised. They must be searching a different sector of the forest, perhaps assuming he would have shifted into his bear form and run as far away from the car accident as possible. Or maybe they were doing something else.

He quickly discerned what when they approached the cabin from behind, and his keen sense of hearing heard them shuffling around inside. They were either destroying the place or looking for something. He wasn't sure what, unless it was just to discover what he'd been up to. He was glad he had folded up the radio and placed it in the duffel bag with the guns, because the enemy acquiring it would have made his teammates more vulnerable. He had a feeling they were already plenty vulnerable, and at least three, and probably more, were dead.

Between himself and Gillian, they'd managed to take out three of the enemy too. He felt a surge of dark satisfaction at that, which he quickly suppressed. It was a dangerous emotion, the kind that tempted the bear to the forefront. His bear might be able to deal with the two in the cabin easily, but he couldn't surrender control to it. He'd fought too hard to maintain any sense of stability, and if he lost control, he might hurt anyone or anything around him, including Gillian.

Since he'd lost her and deprived himself of her for the last eighteen months to keep her safe, he wasn't about to jeopardize her now—not any more than she already was, since they were both at the mercy of whoever was tracking them.

Still holding her hand, he tugged her away from the cabin, urging her to be quieter than ever as he made the shushing motion with his finger against his lips. It was easy for him to move with stealth, all his training coming back, but she wasn't as skilled. He winced as several times she stepped on broken branches or rustled leaves, expecting the soldiers inside to come tearing out at any moment. When they didn't, he took a deep breath, steeling himself as he paused at the perimeter, pointing to her car.

He made a running motion with his fingers, and she nodded to indicate she understood. A moment later, when he nodded his head, she started running. He was right behind her, though he had released her hand. Every step seemed to be miles away from where they were trying to reach, though they were both running full tilt. Well, he was reining his in a bit to avoid plowing into her and running her over, since her legs were shorter than his, and she didn't have the benefit of shifter speed.

It felt like hours, though it was only a few seconds, before they reached her car. Instinctively, she had gone to the passenger side, and he was pleased to discover the car unlocked easily when he lifted the handle. She hadn't bothered with locking it before coming in to his home, and it saved them a few extra seconds.

They were seconds that were critical, because they were both in the car when the soldiers came running out of his cabin, firing in their direction. They both wielded serious firepower, but it couldn't compare to the guns that had been mounted to the helicopter. The back window blew, and she was smart enough to duck down without him having to tell her. He slouched as low in the seat as he could as he turned the ignition, and then pushed the little Honda to its limits.

They shot down the driveway in a similar maneuver to what the Jeep had done earlier, quickly putting distance between themselves and the soldiers, though they ran after him for almost a mile, nearly keeping pace. He couldn't afford to look closely at them, needing his full attention on the road ahead, but what he could glimpse told him they were in various states of hybrid shifting as well. He didn't know what that meant, or if they could even shift in and out. Maybe they were stuck that way. Whatever they were, they were fast, lethal, and hard to kill.

They had finally reached the end of his driveway just as a loud explosion sounded behind them. He looked in the rearview mirror as Gillian turned in her seat, a gasp escaping her. Now he knew what they had been doing in his cabin. They had been rigging it to explode. He wasn't sure why, except as the cover story for his death. He just hadn't obliged them by going quietly. He was under no illusion they would give up. Whoever wanted him would keep looking, and he wouldn't feel even close to safe again until he met up with his remaining teammates at the sanctuary in Mexico.

There was no alternative but to bring Gillian with him. If they hadn't realized she was involved, they would by now. The soldiers would likely have recorded her license plate number and would definitely report an unknown woman was with him. She wouldn't remain unknown for long, and they would likely eliminate her regardless of how little or how much she knew, both to tie up a loose end and as a way to come at him.

He gritted his teeth, wanting to reject the truth of how much losing her would devastate him. He'd had the last eighteen months to adapt to living without her. While he'd told himself he was successful in the endeavor, and that he had buried his desperate need for her somewhere alongside the bear he kept trapped under layers of careful monitoring and diligent mental guard, he knew he'd been fooling himself. His need for Gillian was as strong as ever, and that might be even more dangerous than the unknown soldiers and group targeting him for elimination.

# Chapter Three

Wyatt had been silent during the drive from his cabin into Portland. Gillian had tried to engage him in conversation a few times, even just by asking how his side was where he'd been stabbed, but he'd answered in grunts when he bothered to answer at all. Finally, she'd given up on communicating for the moment and had closed her eyes. Her body ached where that soldier had squeezed her so tightly, but she was convinced she was too keyed up to sleep.

She was wrong, coming awake abruptly as they entered Portland, joining the flow of traffic across the bridge toward the heart of the city. She assumed he was simply following the freeway, so she was surprised when he turned away from the direction that would take them to I-5 South. Once more, she attempted conversation. "What are you doing?"

Surprisingly, he bothered to answer this time. "We need to get rid of this car."

She tried to envision how that would work, since the idea of walking to Mexico was not only practically impossible, it was downright laughable. They would be picked up in no time, especially if Wyatt continued bleeding and refused to shift to heal his injury.

He turned away from downtown, but stopped at the curb in front of an ATM. "Do you have your bank cards?"

Gillian nodded. "What about you?"

He shrugged. "They're back at the cabin. I didn't carry my wallet as a rule, since I rarely leave...left the cabin. I got out of the habit."

When he got out of the car, she did the same and walked beside him to the machine. He was watchful, and so was she. After the night they'd already had, the grand finale of being mugged at the ATM would be frightening, but not altogether surprising. Fortunately, she was able to withdraw the full limit from her credit cards and debit card without incident.

After she'd put the money in her purse, he took her hand, and they started walking. She cast one last glance at her car, parked forlornly at the curb, but then turned away and looked forward. When she had come to warn Wyatt, she'd made her choice no matter how subconsciously.

She was determined to be there beside him, where she belonged. It's where she had always belonged, and Wyatt just needed to see that, to remember how it once was. Right now wasn't the time to think about salvaging their relationship though. They just needed to survive long enough to reach Mexico. She hoped it genuinely was the sanctuary Malcolm had briefly described to her and referenced in his recording. If not, she had no idea what they would do.

They walked for what felt like blocks, and probably was. She was conscious of the sky lightening slightly, indicating dawn was only a short time away. The idea of being exposed in daylight made her nervous, though she doubted those soldiers would come after them in a crowded street in the middle of the day. Maybe.

With a soft growl in his throat, one that sounded almost like a purr, Wyatt finally stopped as they reached a residential area. They had walked through it for at least two blocks, but apparently he had finally found what he was seeking. A moment later, she discovered that was an older model Geo Metro with a hatchback. She looked at it and then at him in confusion as he stopped beside it. "What are you doing?" she asked quietly as he let go of her hand, which she hadn't even realized he'd been holding until then, and moved around the car.

With a grunt that passed for an answer, he kept his attention focused on whatever he was doing at the driver's side. A moment later, he opened the door, and her first impulse was to protest opening someone else's vehicle. She quickly stifled that urge when he opened the passenger door for her. She slipped inside, grateful to be off the street, though her nerves were tenser than ever as they sat in a stranger's car. "What are you doing?" she asked again.

"Hotwiring," he said briefly. Apparently, his months of living as a hermit in the cabin had eroded his communication skills. He'd never been a man to ramble on, but he'd always at least engaged in conversation with her. This side of him was frustrating, but no more so than the rest of him. That didn't make her love him any less though.

"Do you know how to do that?" As she finished asking the question, the engine came to life. "I guess so," she said to herself as she leaned back in the seat. It was second nature to fasten the seatbelt, and she tried to get comfortable on the worn seat as Wyatt eased away from the curb and onto the road. When she glanced at him, she was amused to see how his large frame contrasted with the small vehicle. "If you were going to steal a car, why not something more comfortable?"

"Newer model cars have better protection from car thieves. I'm not a pro at this, so I needed something I was certain I could hotwire."

Abruptly, she remembered the ugly green Datsun he used to drive, having restored the body with the help of his father and brother, but leaving on the primer paint, since he couldn't afford a professional paint job. It had been his first car, and the first one they'd ridden in together when they'd gone on their first date. Their first real date anyway.

A wave of longing swept over her as she remembered the excitement of waiting for him to pick her up, since her parents had finally relented and allowed her to go on individual dates instead of group dates. She had been fifteen then, and Wyatt had recently turned sixteen.

He had come to her house and picked her up, opening the car door for her and bearing the disapproving look of her father. He hadn't had anything against Wyatt personally, but he hadn't liked the idea of Gillian dating. His stance had changed over the years, and he'd come to regard Wyatt as his son, and he had been as hurt and confused as many others in their small town when Wyatt had broken the engagement and driven away without saying goodbye to anyone.

With a small sigh, she pushed aside the memory and focused on the present. She didn't try to make conversation as he navigated through the city. Traffic was nothing compared to the usual times, let alone rush hour, but he still needed to focus. Periodically, she glanced at his side, grimacing each time she saw the blood there.

As they merged onto I-5 South, she bent forward to look in the glove compartment. The first-aid kit she found was underwhelming, but better than nothing. She held it in her hands as they traveled down the road with dawn fast approaching.

The silence continued, and it was stretching her nerves taut. Conversation might not be the most beneficial thing at the moment anyway, but she was tired of letting the silence fester between them. She was on the cusp of blurting out anything when she saw a sign for a rest area. "Pull in there please."

He grunted, which was ambiguous, but when they reached the exit, he pulled off without complaint. As soon as he had followed the parking lot around and stopped the vehicle in front of the building housing the restrooms, she took off her seatbelt and opened her door. "Come with me. We need to look at that wound if you aren't going to shift to heal it."

He looked like he wanted to argue, but that would have required actual words. She sighed with annoyance when he got out with a huff and walked toward the restroom, this time not waiting for her or taking her hand. The delay must be irritating him, or perhaps even the attention she gave his wound. That was too bad for him, because she wasn't going to let him bleed to death from his own stubbornness and refusal to shift.

She was happy to see a family restroom, and they must still have at least a similar thought process, because he headed straight to that one as well. He opened the door, holding it for her so she could step through, and then he followed behind her before closing and locking it. "Take off your jacket and shirt."

With a small sigh full of impatience, Wyatt stripped until he was bare from the waist up. It had been so long since she'd seen him that way that it temporarily distracted her. He used to be all solid muscle, and while there was still plenty of that, he'd clearly lost some weight. She couldn't quite see his ribs or feel them when she reached out to probe the area around the wound gently, but he definitely wasn't taking care of himself the way he should be. She bit back the urge to admonish him gently for that, knowing it was already costing him a lot of inner strength to allow her to look at the wound.

She was relieved to find it wasn't as serious as it had appeared earlier. It was pretty shallow, and the blade seemed to have missed any vital organs. If it hadn't, he probably would have been dead by now. She washed it as best she could using paper towels and soap, which made him hiss and flinch away, but he endured. After that, she used the inadequate first-aid kit, which contained some antibiotic ointment that she smeared over the wound gingerly, and used both of the two gauze pads included, along with the short roll of tape, to secure over the wound. Once it was covered to the best of her ability, she looked up at him with a small frown. "You should just shift to heal."

He glowered. "I'm not letting out the beast. I'll heal just fine on my own."

She shrugged, knowing there was no sense in arguing with him. He could be downright stubborn when he chose, and it seemed to be his default choice of late.

"What about you? Are you injured?"

She shrugged. "I probably have some bruises, and occasionally it's difficult to take a deep breath, but I don't think I'm seriously injured."

"Lift up your shirt." He gave the order gruffly, as though daring her to refuse.

It was surprisingly awkward to lift her shirt to her armpits. He'd seen her naked many times, and at various points in her life, from when she was skinny until she had grown slightly curvy. It was simply the lack of intimacy between them, exacerbated by the separation of eighteen months, that made it feel like she was baring her body to a stranger. In some ways, this Wyatt was a stranger, which was unbearably sad.

She blinked back tears and let out a small hiss of pain when he probed carefully down her sides, finding more than one tender spot. "He had quite a grip on me. It was a lucky thing I was able to get my knee up enough to hit a sensitive part of his anatomy. I guess he was still human enough to have balls."

He just nodded. "You did well taking care of yourself."

The words were terse, but they still made her heart race at the sound of approval in his tone. She shook her head at her own silliness and pulled down her shirt when he nodded. "I'm going to be fine. I hope you will too. I'm a little concerned about infection."

He just shrugged. "I'm sure I'll live. I can't seem to do otherwise."

The words sent a chill through her, and she forgot all about the distance between them and the reasons why he wouldn't want her to reach out. Instead, she put her hand on his chest, and the other cupped his cheek. "Have you been trying to get rid of yourself, Wyatt?"

He frowned, but he hadn't moved away from her light touch. "No. I just haven't found many good reasons to keep hanging on. Death would be a relief."

The words were concerning, but she didn't really believe them. She didn't think he believed them either. "If that's true, why did you fight so hard to survive earlier in your cabin?"

He frowned at her, seeming not to have an answer for a long moment. Finally, he let out a sigh. "I had to protect you."

"If you say so." It was an easy answer for him, and it wasn't the full truth, but she didn't doubt his sincerity either. He had felt moved to ensure her safety, and while he might have felt that way for anyone, she chose to take it as a sign that maybe he still cared about her.

She knew his bear would never rescind identifying her as his mate, but the human side of him was a stubborn jackass at times. Right now, she understood his decision to leave as much as she ever had, but being back with him again was making it all so fresh, bringing old wounds to the surface. She was glad to see he hadn't completely moved on and forgotten all about her. She hadn't managed to do so either; not that she'd really tried. How could she when Wyatt was her whole world?

"It's time to hit the road," he said gruffly, not reaching for her hand this time. He simply turned and walked out of the restroom. With a small sigh, she gathered the remnants of the first-aid kit and followed him from the imagined safety of the restroom.

He had no trouble starting the Metro again, and they were soon back on the freeway, headed south. His continued silence, combined with her lack of sleep, and the soothing hum of the tires on the road, soon lulled her into a light, restless sleep.

She woke sometime later, immediately realizing the sun was all the way up now, and they must have traveled for at least an hour or more. They were still on the freeway, and she saw an exit approaching. He was slowing down, and the speed difference might have been what had woken her. "Where are we?"

"Just some small town. We need gas." He pulled off the freeway and onto the exit ramp, slowing down dramatically as they entered the town. It could have been Shifter Springs, or a number of other small communities just like it across the country. Wyatt turned to the right, following a sign that displayed two gas stations, a hotel, and two restaurants. At the thought of food, her stomach rumbled, and she sat up straighter as they approached the pumps. Wyatt rolled down his window as the attendant approached, and she passed him some money. Then she slid from the car, pausing to lean down to look in. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving."

With a nod, she closed the door and walked into the gas station, going straight to the food section. The pickings were on the meager side, but her stomach was too empty to care much about variety at the moment. She picked up two breakfast sandwiches and microwaved them in the microwave nearby while pouring large coffees for both of them. She fell right back into the habit of preparing his coffee just the way he liked, with a little cream and two sugars. In some ways, it was like eighteen months hadn't passed at all. In others, it might as well have been eighteen years.

She'd reached the counter and was pulling out cash when she looked up at the television behind the clerk and froze. The cashier wasn't paying any attention to the screen, much to her relief, but she couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from it as pictures of herself and Wyatt flashed across, along with a caption underneath. It identified them as armed and dangerous and claimed they were on the FBI's Top Ten Most Wanted list.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to act naturally as she took her change. She gathered up the coffees and the sandwiches and turned toward the door. As she did so, she caught the gaze of the two men behind her, and their cold, calculating expressions chilled her. She hurried away, practically running across the parking lot as fast as she could with the coffee in her hands. She handed one to Wyatt and kept one for herself as she got into the car. "Drive."

His brow furrowed as he looked at her. "What's wrong?"

"Just drive, and I'll tell you on the way."

He responded to her sense of urgency by turning on the car and pulling out of the parking lot carefully, but quickly. She didn't breathe well until they were on the freeway again, and then she told him what she'd seen.

Wyatt didn't have a chance to reply to her. Instead, he let out a long curse as he looked in the rearview mirror and pushed harder on the gas pedal.

"What's going on?" As she asked, she turned in her seat, craning her neck to see a large truck bearing down on them, with two recognizable figures in the other vehicle. It was the men in plaid flannel shirts who'd eyed her as she left the gas station. It could be they just wanted to pass the Metro, but from the way they kept getting closer, she doubted that.

They confirmed that supposition a moment later by ramming the grill of their truck into the tiny Metro. Wyatt cursed again and fought with the steering wheel as the small car jerked erratically around the road before veering off onto the shoulder and straight into the guard rail. Stars danced behind her eyes as her head snapped forward and then back against the seat with a jarring thud, and consciousness seemed to slip away, though not entirely. She was vaguely aware of someone wrenching open her door, but then she lost that faint threat of awareness and slipped into darkness.

# Chapter Four

She must have only grayed out, because awareness quickly returned when rough hands moved over her body. At first she thought one of the men was trying to rape her, but quickly realized he was simply searching her for weapons when he pocketed the gun she'd had in the side pocket of her jacket, having moved it there from her waistband.

When she fully opened her eyes, there were two of him for just a moment, but then they merged into one after she blinked furiously. The man standing over her was solidly built, evident even through his lined flannel shirt. His expression was disdainful. "Why are you doing this?" she asked in a soft rasp.

"Me and Billy figure there ought to be a reward in turning in two criminals like you."

With some effort, she pushed herself up onto her elbows, going slowly to ensure he didn't shoot her for shifting positions. "Wyatt and I aren't criminals." Her stomach clenched when she said his name, and she turned her head, looking for him. She let out a cry of dismay when she saw the other man in flannel was holding Wyatt pressed to the ground, his hand on Wyatt's bandage, clearly exploiting his weakness. Anger surged in her. "Let him go, you big bully."

The one identified as Billy by his compatriot didn't even look at her. He was too busy grinning sadistically down at Wyatt.

Wyatt turned his head, and she caught his gaze, hating the pain and anger she saw there. "Transform," she said. She wanted to curse when his expression turned stubborn. Gillian was sympathetic to his fear of letting out the bear, though she didn't know exactly why he feared doing so, but if there had ever been a time that called for him to shift, this was it.

The sound of her own gun cocking turned her attention back to the one who'd frisked her. She stared up with wide eyes at the sight of the gun bearing down on her. "You don't need that. I'm not a criminal. Neither is Wyatt."

He shrugged. "That ain't what the TV says." He turned his head to spit out a mouthful of tobacco juice. When he looked back at her again, there was a gleam of interest in his eyes that was disquieting. "It's hard to believe a little thing like you is Top Ten wanted by the FBI though. Why don't you tell me what y'all did?"

She glared up at him. "We didn't do anything. We have information the government wants suppressed." She hoped he was the "love your country, not your government" type.

It seemed to go right over his head. He just chuckled. "If that's the case, then I don't see you putting up much of a resistance when we turn you in. Or before."

"What are you doing, Bobby?" asked Billy, with a hint of warning in his tone.

Bobby put away her gun, sliding it into the waistband of his jeans before reaching for his belt buckle. "I'm just having a little fun."

Billy cursed. "No, you ain't. We need to get these two into the cops as soon as possible."

Bobby chuckled. "According to this the lady, she hasn't done nothing wrong. Just in case she's telling the truth, I ought to give her a going away present. Something to remember me by. It's her last chance to get laid before prison."

Gillian glared up at him, prepared to fight until her last breath. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Maybe during," said Bobby with an air of musing. "Either way, I imagine they'll give us a reward whether you're dead or alive."

A roar from Wyatt caught all their attention, and Gillian looked in his direction in time to see his arm transform to a full bear paw. With another roar that sounded more animal than human, he swung at Billy, who dropped the gun he'd held on Wyatt and fell back, no longer pressing against his wound. Wyatt jumped to his feet, clearly struggling with the wound.

He paused only long enough to scoop up the weapon Billy had dropped, one of his own guns, before running toward her and Bobby. He was clearly in pain, and she wanted to curse at his stubbornness for not shifting all the way to heal himself.

Bobby had abandoned all attempts and thoughts of doing anything to her as he turned to face the man running at him, clearly terrified by the bear paw. Even in his fear, he assumed a shooter's stance as he fumbled for her gun.

Gillian refused to allow Bobby to shoot Wyatt with her gun. Since he wasn't looking at her, she was able to move around him, kicking him in the knee as hard as she could.

Bobby's attention wavered from Wyatt and turned back to her, pointing the gun in her direction once more. He was howling with pain and clearly barely standing upright with his knee injured. Unfortunately, he was still thinking straight. He didn't even look at Wyatt when he spoke. "Stop right there, whatever the hell you are, or she dies."

Gillian looked at Wyatt. He was plainly maintaining control over the bear, as evidenced by the awareness in his gaze and the way he abruptly halted.

"Let her go," said Wyatt. "I'm the one they really want, and I'll come with you quietly if you just move away from her."

Bobby snorted. "I wasn't born yesterday. Soon as she's no longer around, you'll rip me apart." The gun moved quickly, aiming in Wyatt's direction and firing before Gillian could even process what was happening.

"Of course, if I take you out now, that won't be a concern." He fired again, but the shot missed. Wyatt rammed into him, taking him down and slashing at his face with the bear paw. Bobby let out a wail of pain, and her gun slipped from his hand.

Gillian scrambled forward to grab it, turning it around and using the butt to hammer Bobby on the temple. He went slack almost immediately, and Wyatt must have maintained enough control to realize the threat was over, because he pulled away.

Instead of coming to her, he ran the opposite direction. Clutching her gun, Gillian ran after him. "Wyatt, stop. We need to get out of here." When he kept running another few yards, she increased her pace to keep up with him, somehow partially closing the distance, though it left her heart pounding in her chest. "We're still in danger. They could find us at any time."

Wyatt drew to a halt, but he didn't turn to face her. Fur bristled on his neck and spots left visible by his clothing. He was breathing hard, clearly trying to regain control.

She moved closer to him, stifling the hint of fear she felt. His bear would surely pick up on the pheromones if the animal was in control enough to do so. She didn't want Wyatt to know she had ever been afraid of him, though she was scared of his loss of control or ability to regain it. That didn't mean she was going to leave him here alone or ever let him know how she felt.

He stiffened when she put her hand on his shoulder, a low growl emitting from him. She kept her voice soothing. "You should transform at least enough to heal. You're going to need your strength."

His entire body was taut with tension for a long moment, and then he shook his head. The fur started to recede from his neck, and slowly he turned to face her. When he did, he was completely Wyatt again, and still obviously wounded.

She let out a sigh of exasperation. "You have to heal yourself."

There was still a faint growl in his voice when he spoke, indicating he wasn't as in control as she thought. "Can't. If I let him out that much, the beast will take over."

She wanted to continue arguing, but they had to get on the road again. Instead, she took his hand and tugged him along, only slightly surprised when he didn't insist on pulling away. "We'll need to take their truck, since the Geo probably won't start again."

He grunted, which she took as an agreement, and hurried him toward the truck. Wyatt took the passenger seat without complaint or comment, and she reached the driver's side, letting out a small curse when she confirmed the engine was turned off, and keys weren't in the switch. She checked under the visor and a few obvious spots, hoping one of the two would-be bounty hunters had simply dropped the keys somewhere convenient before confronting them, but had no such luck.

Wyatt was still against the door, his head turned away from her, and his breathing slightly erratic. She wasn't certain if that was from his attempt to maintain control over the bear, or from the wound in his side and the gunshot in his shoulder.

"I have to find the keys."

He turned to look at her, his expression foreboding. "No way. You can't go frisk those rednecks."

She shrugged. "Unless you know how to hotwire this type of vehicle, we don't have a lot of choice."

He hesitated before shaking his head. "I'll get the keys."

"No, you won't. You need to rest and try to regain some of your strength if you're not going to heal yourself." She grasped her gun, going to the Metro first. The car was stubborn, the hatchback not wanting to give, but she finally got it to open enough to retrieve their duffel bag of weapons. She ran them back to the truck and dropped them in the cab, taking a moment to retrieve a rifle, which looked far more intimidating than the small handgun. "Is it loaded?"

Wyatt had his lips compressed so tightly together that they were almost white. He must be in a lot of pain, because he didn't insist on accompanying her or doing it himself. He just nodded.

She flipped off the safety and held the rifle in one hand and the handgun the other. When she had to search their unconscious forms, she'd have to set down one of the guns, and she'd decide which one when she reached that point.

Luck must have been with her, because she found the keys in Billy's pocket, and he was still unconscious from the blow Wyatt had given him with his bear paw. She clutched the keyring in her hand and rushed back to the truck, handing Wyatt the rifle to put back in the duffel bag, but slipping her own gun into her jacket pocket once more. Then she started up the vehicle and drove away, not looking back at the wreckage of the Geo, or the two unconscious men lying on the ground beside the interstate.

She drove for more than an hour, not liking the way Wyatt got quieter and paler as time passed. Enough was enough, and she made a decision, exiting at the next available turnoff. It was for a small farm town, and she drove straight through, looking at the buildings around her. Within two miles, they were so sparse as to be almost nonexistent. When she saw a barn standing by itself, looking weathered, but not yet dilapidated, she turned the truck down the bumpy gravel road, which caused Wyatt to stir.

He lifted his head from the window with a frown. "What's going on?"

"We need to stop. If you're not going to heal yourself, I have to try to do something about your wounds. You're bleeding too much, and you're going to let yourself die." She spoke the words angrily, beyond empathy at his predicament. She was just appalled that he would allow himself to suffer rather than shift to the bear to save his life.

He grunted at her, and she ignored his response. She followed the bumpy road all the way to the side of the barn, where she got out and approached carefully. She looked around and saw no other signs of habitation, and when she carefully pulled open the double doors, the musty smell and the hint of mold underlying it indicated it hadn't been used for a while. There was still a faint scent of cow manure, but even that had faded.

Satisfied, she returned to the truck and drove it inside the barn. Once she got out and closed the doors again, it was dim in there, but a section of roof was missing, and it provided adequate light to see the interior. They were definitely alone, and didn't share the space with any other animals—well, maybe rats and insects, but she didn't want to think about that.

She moved around to Wyatt's side and opened his door, carefully easing him out. He was woozy, and she cursed softly. It didn't take a surgeon to know the bullet in his shoulder needed an operation to remove. She quickly discovered there was no exit hole, so the bullet was still inside him, and it looked like it had done some serious damage to his collarbone, which had halted the progression of the bullet.

He continued to bleed freely, and she shook her head. She looked up at Wyatt, cupping his face in her hands. "You have to transform, at least enough to heal this wound. I can't do anything for it, and if you don't do something, I either have to take you to the hospital, or you're going to die. So you need to decide right now."

He let out a groan, but after a moment, he nodded. He eased away from her, almost stumbling in the process. She braced his arm with her hand, using all her strength to hold him up. When he continued trying to move, she said, "You're wasting your energy. Just do it."

He nodded, his gaze meeting hers. "Fine, but I want you to leave the barn while I do. I won't risk losing control around you."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "And I won't risk leaving you alone. If you aren't able to transform enough, you could bleed out and die. Besides, if I go outside, anyone might see me." That was a slight exaggeration, since they were at least a mile off the main road, and she could stand behind the barn and likely be shielded from any traffic that might go down the rural roadway.

It wasn't strictly concern for him that kept her there. She needed Wyatt to realize he wouldn't hurt her, no matter how out-of-control he was. Eighteen months ago, when he'd nearly killed Clayton Walsh, he'd been erratic and uncontrolled for months beforehand. He'd spent the last eighteen months stifling the bear, and she was only a little afraid that he might lose control. She couldn't allow him to see that fear, or she'd lose any ground she might have gained.

Not that she was naïve enough to think she'd gained much during the recent ordeal. They were both focused on survival, and she'd had to practically guilt him into letting her come along.

"Then at least move toward the door, so you can get away to easily if you need to."

With a sigh, she complied, wondering why he hadn't suggested she sit in the truck so she would be able to pull away if she needed to. It must be because he was feeling the effects of his wounds. It seemed like the obvious idea to her, but she had no intention of driving away, so she didn't suggest that option. Instead, she stood a short distance away from him, eyes on his form the entire time as Wyatt surrendered control in increments to the bear.

Claws sprouted from his fingers first, followed by paws, and then fur bristled up his arms. It extended to his neck, but his face showed no signs of the bear. From her vantage point, she couldn't really see his chest, so she tried moving to catch a better angle. From what she could determine, his ribcage was expanding, and she was certain fur was forming on his torso.

Seeing him exert that much control over the bear, allowing only parts of himself to transform, eased most of her fears. Wyatt might fear the bear, and whatever weapon it had been turned into by the military, but she didn't fear Wyatt. She didn't know that's what the military had done for sure, but that was her best guess based on things his teammates had said, combined with Wyatt's insistence on keeping his bear at bay. She wanted the full story, but she couldn't press him for it now. She'd already pushed him enough, but he had to heal himself.

After a moment or two, when the bear and the human seemed to fight for supremacy, and his entire body shook, the fur began to recede. Seeing the bear disappear, she moved forward, wanting to verify for herself that he had healed the wound before pushing back his ursine side.

As she moved closer, she saw he looked tired, but no longer weak. The wound in his shoulder was little more than a red bruise, and the knife wound in his side had almost fully healed when she carefully peeled away the gauze pads. She nodded with satisfaction. "You need to get some rest before we hit the road again."

He shook his head. "It isn't safe. We have to keep moving."

She let out a small sigh. "I know you're right, but I'm exhausted, and so are you. We just need to rest for a bit. The truck's a quad-cab, so we should be able to stretch out on the benches and get some rest. Just an hour or two."

He looked reluctant, but nodded and followed her back to the vehicle. She slipped into the back bench, giving Wyatt the front, and closed her eyes. Despite her tumultuous thoughts, and the fears weighing down on her that the government would find them, or send more of those weird soldiers, she was able to slip into sleep almost immediately. She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said she was exhausted, and she couldn't even wait to see if Wyatt found sleep as well.

# Chapter Five

The rain woke her, along with her body shivering. She sat up slowly, looking at the sky through the missing part of the roof, and frowned at the dark clouds overhead. Rain poured in torrents out of the sky, and it seemed obvious they were going to be in the barn at least a bit longer.

When Wyatt cried out in his sleep, she second-guessed the theory that the rain had woken her. Maybe it had been his cries instead. He sounded frightened in his dream, and he was thrashing on the bench seat. Without thought, she climbed over his seat to lie beside him. Gillian wrapped her arms around Wyatt's trembling form, running her fingers carefully through his hair as she made soothing sounds while trying to wake him. "It's just a dream. Come back to me, Wyatt."

His arms wrapped around her, holding her closer, and she sighed in contentment at feeling his embrace again. She hadn't even attempted to move on from Wyatt in the last eighteen months. She knew bears mated for life, and while she was human and not a bear, she mated for life too. Wyatt had never claimed her with his mating bite, and they had never had a marriage ceremony or anything yet, but she was his mate in her heart, and no other man would have taken his place.

She was positive it was the same for him, and he wouldn't have sought out female companionship even to see to his baser needs. He'd been fighting the bear and all the things associated with his old life for the last eighteen months, but in his sleep, he recognized her as what she was. His bear knew she was his mate, and Wyatt just had to remember that as well.

His breathing evened out, and he stopped thrashing as she held him. Wyatt slept for an additional thirty minutes before he started to stir, and she held her breath when his eyes popped open, wondering at what reception she would get. Just because the bear in his subconscious welcomed her didn't mean Wyatt himself would. He had done everything he could to push her away.

As though on autopilot, his arms fell away from her, and he tried to move backward, though there was nowhere to move.

Summoning her own sense of stubbornness, she clung to him and moved closer. "You were having a nightmare."

He let out a long sigh. "That's nothing new. I'm fine now, so you can let go."

She shook her head. "Don't you get it yet, Wyatt? I'm never letting you go. I shouldn't have let you walk away eighteen months ago, but I knew you needed to heal from whatever you'd been through. It's obvious to me that you haven't healed though. You simply pushed it all down, and you have to deal with it."

"And you think this is the best place and time to do that?" he asked with a sneer. "Well why don't you just go ahead and fix me, Dr. Freud, since you're the expert?"

His words hurt, but she tried not to let it show. Someday soon, he was going to feel like a royal jackass for all the ways he had lashed out at her, so she didn't need to make it worse for him. "I can't fix you. Only you can do that, Wyatt, but I'm here to help. If you want to talk about it, I'll listen, and if you don't want to talk, we'll just lie here until the rain passes. Just let me be here for you."

He looked away from her. "I suppose I owe you an explanation of why we can't be together."

"We can be together, and we will be. But I would appreciate knowing what happened to you."

"I'd been in the military for five years when I was approached by Colonel Wallace, who recognized me as a shifter."

She hated to ask questions already, but she'd always wondered and had never had a chance to ask him about it before. "Didn't the military realize there was something different about you when you went in?"

He shook his head. " _Ursa sapiens_ are just a different evolutionary path from humans, but we still have the same blood type. That's all they do in the military. They run a panel to see if you're healthy, and though there were a few discrepancies between normal for a bear-shifter and normal for a human, there was nothing that triggered any red flags. Most of the military had no clue I'm a shifter, and none of them knew about our teammates either. Until Wallace. He wanted to help hone our shifter abilities to make us better soldiers. It sounded good when he laid it out, but he didn't tell us everything."

"'Need to know,'" she quoted sadly. "I guess they thought you didn't need to know the trivial details of how they were going to ruin your life."

Wyatt let out a snort. "It's almost like you've been in the military yourself. That was exactly it. We didn't get the finer details until after we'd signed the agreement to participate. It involved a regimen of drugs, and what I suspect was mind control, though I can't remember much of the sessions they subjected us to. When it was done, they could force our shifters out at will and send us on assignments. That was why I didn't have any contact with you besides a few letters the last three years I was in the military. We weren't allowed to leave the base, and our letters were carefully scrutinized, so I couldn't tell you anything important."

Gillian nodded. "I remember that time. For a while, I thought you were pulling away from me and about to end our engagement, though I knew that couldn't really be the case since I was your mate. I was worried, and then you got out, and I was so relieved, at least for a few weeks." After that, his struggle had come to the surface, and she'd realized the man she loved was still inside Wyatt and his bear, but he'd been injured in some soul-destroying way that required healing. Wyatt's solution had been to run away and put distance between himself and everyone.

"I think they figured out a way to control our animal side, because they'd send us on missions, and I had no memories of what I'd done. I'd return to myself covered in blood, with no idea what kind of atrocities I committed. It was the same for everyone. To this day, I don't know everything they made us do, but what parts I can remember involved completely massacring the enemy and any compounds we entered. I don't know how many people I killed, how many innocents, and I can't control the bear. That's why I can't risk letting him out. When I do, I don't remember what he does."

"Have you tried since you left the military, and they're no longer pumping you full of those drugs?"

He gave her a look that was full of irritation. "You were there when I tried to stop Clayton Walsh and lost control to the bear."

She nodded. "Yes, but it was an emotional moment, and you were high on adrenaline. Have you tried summoning the bear and allowing yourself to transform when you're not in a high-stress situation? It could be that you have more control over him than you think now that it's been so long since you've been part of their experiment."

"Or it could be that I've permanently lost control of him, and if I give in and fully become the bear, I might never find my way back to my human side. He's out of control, high on bloodlust and killing. I can't risk unleashing that beast on the rest of the world." His eyes darkened, and he drew in a ragged breath. "I couldn't bear it if I hurt you, or worse."

"I guess I have more faith in you than that. Pushing away the bear isn't going to solve the problem. You can't spend the rest of your life fighting half your nature. You have to regain control of him, and it might be easier than you think."

"Or I might kill you," he said with a roar. "I might tear you apart and revel in the smell of your blood. Those are the kind of memories that haunt me, that taint my dreams. If I did something to you, I couldn't go on. I don't want to hurt anyone, especially not you."

"I know you still love me, Wyatt. I love you too, no matter how damaged or wounded you are. I'm not leaving you this time, and I'm not letting you leave me."

He looked sad. "It isn't safe to be with me."

"I'd rather live with the risk and have you than go back to barely existing without you." Gathering all of her courage, fully expecting to be rebuffed, Gillian stretched her neck and lifted her head slightly to bring her lips against his. She brushed against them in a gentle kiss, and when he didn't push her away, she returned for another. He wasn't yet responding, but he wasn't trying to escape her hold. As she worked her lips lightly over his, they eventually yielded, and he let out a harsh breath that she captured with her mouth before deepening the kiss. This time, his lips molded to hers, and his arms came around her again, holding her tightly against him.

When Wyatt didn't push her away, Gillian took it as an encouraging sign and deepened the kiss. He was still a little stiff with lingering resistance, but he didn't try to pull his mouth from hers. In fact, his lips curved, molding and softening as he finally starting participating. His tongue eased carefully through her lips, probing the seam for entrance that she had no wish to deny.

When his tongue caressed hers almost shyly, she responded by massaging it with her own. His taste was so familiar, and she had been without it for so long, that tears prickled the back of her eyes. She blinked before they could fall, determined not to do anything to ruin the moment, or give Wyatt an excuse to pull away.

She clung to him, deepening the kiss as she gradually moved her hands down his body, slipping under his torn T-shirt to caress his abdomen. The skin was smooth and taut, but he was definitely thinner than he had been. He still had well-defined abdominal muscles, and she ran her fingers over them as she traced the contours while moving her way upward.

When her fingernails reached his nipple, she raked him lightly, just the way he liked. He rewarded her with an indrawn hiss of breath, followed by a deep growl in his throat. She knew what she was doing to him. It drove him wild.

So did that certain spot on his neck. Carefully, moving as slowly as she would if he was a skittish colt, she moved her mouth from his and down his chin, peppering kisses along the way. When she reached the strong column of his throat, she flicked her tongue out to lick the path on his carotid artery before veering slightly to the left, seeking out a spot almost guaranteed to make him lose control. As soon as her lips brushed the area, he stiffened and started to push her away.

Tenaciously, she clung to him, softening her lips as she grazed her teeth across the spot before latching on to suck slowly and rhythmically.

"Dammit, Gillian, you have to stop."

She burrowed closer, deepening the intensity of her suction as she felt his last bit of resistance crumble and fade away. It was evident by the way his tense muscles loosened, and by the string of curses escaping him even as his hips bucked, his cock instinctively seeking out the warm heat between her legs.

She had flipped the switch in him; that much was obvious. In seconds, they were no longer lying side by side. Instead, she was pinned firmly underneath him with the full weight of his groin pressing into hers. He paused only long enough to take off his shirt before lying down on her, almost crushing her with his weight. Rather than feeling suffocating or frightening, it was reassuring; a steadying presence she had missed over the past eighteen months.

He grabbed a handful of her hair, tugging her head back to expose her throat. His lips moved there, feasting on the skin he found as though he were ravenous. She whimpered, arching her hips against him in search of relief. The layers of their clothing keeping them apart were too much to bear.

When he lifted his head, he was breathing roughly, and his eyes had darkened. His hand in her hair loosened slightly as he allowed the locks to trail through his fingers. "I've missed this. Missed you," he said gruffly. It was clear the admission cost him a lot.

She nodded, feeling that irritating need to cry again. Gillian blinked back the tears and lifted her hands to cup his shoulders. She guided him down to her, her mouth claiming his in another long, slow kiss. It had always been like this with Wyatt, as though each kiss was their first. Pure dynamite, and almost surprising in its intensity. That hadn't changed, but it had grown stronger.

His hands moved between their bodies to unbutton her shirt, quickly stripping her of the garment. In his impatience, he ended up ripping off the last couple of buttons, but she'd worry about that later. He was equally quick to dispense with her plain white bra, unhooking the fasteners and sliding it from her shoulders in what seemed like an effortless motion.

Like a starving man, he fell on her breasts, his mouth seeking out one plump pink nipple. She buried her hand in his hair, holding him close to her breast as he suckled frantically. Each tug of his mouth sent a corresponding pulse of pleasure through her core, and she shifted restlessly underneath him. She wanted him inside her again. She'd dreamed about it and fantasized about it so often she definitely remembered how it felt to have him, and she was desperate for that connection. "I need you, Wyatt."

He barely paid any attention at all, simply switching his attention from one breast to the other, while bringing up a hand to tug on the nipple he had just been sucking. She whimpered and arched against him again, desperate for relief. "Please. I need you right now."

He lifted his head, shaking it gently. "Not yet. It's been so long, and I want to savor every moment."

She let out a frustrated groan. "You could savor later and just fuck me now."

Wyatt grinned. "Such a dirty mouth. Were you always such a dirty girl?"

She rolled her eyes even as she giggled when his mouth drifted lower, moving down the soft flesh of her stomach so his tongue could dip carefully into her bellybutton before swirling around it. "I know what I want, and I've lost too much time waiting for it already."

"What's a little more time?" The question was more a ghost of a breath across her lower stomach as his fingers deftly dealt with the zipper and snap of her jeans, pushing them down her thighs along with her panties in a quick motion that barely disrupted the path of his tongue to her mound.

She let out a sobbing breath when his tongue reached her slit, clutching desperately at the handful of hair she had as she tried to push him closer to her. He resisted, maintaining space for a moment. He was almost touching, and each breath was like a caress against her heated flesh.

Finally, when she was almost sobbing with need, he yielded and brought his mouth to her pussy. The first touch of his lips against her labia made her arch upward, and when his tongue slid inside her folds, all it did was fuel the hunger inside her rather than quench the need. She clutched the cloth upholstery on the seat, digging her nails in as she panted and moaned under the fierce onslaught of pleasure.

She was so sensitive and had waited so long for him that it took little more than a few flicks of his tongue against her clit, followed by sucking on the taut bud, to send her into orgasm. She cried out his name as she came, only vaguely aware of him stripping off her clothes the rest of the way.

She reached out to touch his flesh, needing to feel the reassurance of his skin as he moved away from her, his large frame clearly making it awkward to remove his pants. With a few curses and the rocking of the truck, he was finally back to her, and she reached between them to grasp the length of his cock, reveling in the feel of the smooth skin underneath her hand. She stroked his shaft, pumping him a couple of times and rewarded by a spurt of pre-cum each time. When he was smooth and lubricated, pulsing hotly in her hand, she guided him to the opening, and he sank inside.

She whimpered as she took the full length of him. It had been eighteen months since they'd been lovers, and she hadn't taken anyone in the interim. Quickly enough, her body adjusted and remembered the feel and length of him, softening and molding to his cock as though no time had passed at all since the last time he'd been inside her.

She cupped his buttocks in her hands, digging in her nails lightly as she pulled him as deeply inside her as she could get. Her thigh bumped the steering wheel, but she barely noticed the slight flare of pain as she brought up her legs to lock around his.

Once again, he threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping her head with his hands as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their tongues clashed, straining against each other as their lower bodies moved in a frantic rhythm. She was on the cusp of coming again already, and Wyatt seemed equally frantic as he plunged in and out of her, his pace growing erratic, but no less intense.

With a small shout, he lifted his head, arching his back and thrusting more deeply inside her. His cock twitched a moment before he came, heralding his release. The sensation of him coming inside her started to send her over the edge, but it was his words that really pushed her toward a shattering climax.

"I fucking love you, Gillian."

This time, the tears wouldn't be denied, and they trickled down her cheeks, adding to the overwhelming sensations swirling through her. For a brief moment, she was nothing more than nerve endings and emotions as the world rocked and tilted around her, breaking apart before reforming in a picture that was entirely different than it had been a few minutes ago. He had admitted he still loved her, and though she had known it, hearing it was still reassuring.

Still trembling from the force of her release, she curved against him when he turned slightly so they were both lying on their side. He slipped from her, and she was bereft at the loss of his hard shaft inside her. She wanted to remain joined with him in every way imaginable, and the fact that it was impossible didn't make her want it any less. Still, she knew they couldn't spend the rest of their lives fused together and tried consoling herself with the reminder that this was just the first of an unlimited number of times they would be intimate in the future.

If they survived that long.

The cold return of reality made her shiver, this time not with blissful aftermath but with pure fear. "What are we going to do, Wyatt?"

"Go to sleep," he said with a bit of a growl. There was tenderness underlying it though, along with obvious exhaustion in his tone.

"Shouldn't we get on the road?" She looked up through the windshield, to the section of missing roof. It was still raining, but the sky was only a light gray instead of a dark gray now, and the storm seemed to be passing.

"Soon enough. Just rest for now. I want to spend a few minutes holding you just like this before we think about what comes next."

She could hardly argue with that, and his body heat was tempting in the slight chill of the cabin of the truck. She snuggled as close as she could, wrapping her arm around his waist. Her other was over his shoulder, and she reveled in the ability to hold him again. She hadn't intended to fall asleep, but the heat of his body, coupled with the physical exertion of lovemaking and sleep deprivation, soon made her eyes drift closed. She would just take a little nap, and when she woke up, they'd figure out the next step.

# Chapter Six

Wyatt listened to her breathe as she slipped into sleep. She was soon making a low purring sound. Not quite a snore, but more a sound of contentment. He could relate, feeling the best he'd felt in years with her just like this. His arms tightened inadvertently around her, making her whimper slightly in her sleep, when the fear of losing her shot through him. He'd barely found her again, and had barely allowed himself to acknowledge the need he had for her. She was in danger as long as she was with him, and he couldn't keep her at his side.

The realization rocked him, making him once again tighten his arms without thought. This time, she didn't whimper. She simply snuggled closer, her arms that had grown limp during sleep briefly tightening around him before her body relaxed again.

"I love you," he said in a whisper, brushing his lips against her temple. She made that purring sound again, as though her subconscious had heard his words and approved of them.

Words, along with this brief moment, were all he could give her. He knew what he had to do, and that was keep her safe. Nothing else mattered as long as Gillian was protected, and he couldn't do that if he stayed with her.

His bear roared in his mind, and Wyatt realized the animal was closer to the surface than it had been in months. Instead of feeling repulsed by the idea, he found the voice of his animal in the back of his mind slightly reassuring for the first time in at least two years. His bear didn't seem as wild or raging with Gillian in his arms. If they could stay like that forever, everything would be perfect. Unfortunately, that was an impossible goal.

He allowed himself a few more minutes of holding her, both because he couldn't yet tear himself away and also because he wanted to ensure she was sleeping deeply before he left her embrace. He needed to do it now, while he could still manage the necessary strength. It wasn't a physical strength, but an emotional fortitude he'd lacked for a while. He'd been in hiding from himself and his bear, plain and simple. The events of the last twenty-four hours had dragged him out of hiding forcibly, but they had also temporarily reunited him with his mate. He wasn't certain what the future held, but he couldn't be sorry about it or regret anything if it had given him these few precious hours with Gillian.

She barely stirred when he finally forced himself to pull away, feeling the separation like a physical wrench in his body as he slipped from his seat to the floorboard before quietly opening the door and maneuvering his way out into the barn. Wyatt found his clothes quickly and dressed hastily. He couldn't just leave without saying anything, but when he found the pen and a rumpled piece of paper in the console, he held the writing implement over the paper for a long moment, trying to find words to express everything he felt, and how he hated leaving her, though it was necessary.

In the end, he couldn't think of the right words, so he said nothing. Instead, he simply wrote out the coordinates for Malcom's place in Mexico, along with the word _Sanctuary_ , which he underlined three times. As an afterthought, he added a tiny heart in the corner, unable to do more. She was stirring a bit, shivering, and he took an extra moment to drape his jacket over her. It was a little cool without it, and the rain would be unpleasant, but his bear had a higher metabolism than a human, and he'd survive just fine.

With one last long look, memorizing her features as he struggled not to succumb to the wave of despair overtaking him, he moved away from the truck, closed the door quietly, and turned and walked away. He couldn't allow himself to look back, or he might falter in his course. He might do the easy thing, which was return to her, but it wasn't the right thing. Once again, he was walking away from his mate, but this time it wasn't to hide from the world. This time, it was to protect her, to keep her safe, and to know she would have a chance to live regardless of what happened to him.

The farther he got from the truck, the faster he ran. He needed to put as much distance between them as possible before she woke up and before he gave in to the urge to return to her. He was barely winded when he reached the main road, and he kept jogging lightly for more than a mile before slowing down to a rapid walk.

As a car approached, he turned and stuck out his thumb, not really surprised when it drove on by. He kept walking as three more cars passed him, covering at least another two or three miles on foot before someone finally pulled over.

He moved to the passenger side of the sedan, trying for a friendly smile when the window rolled down. He was surprised to see a young woman behind the wheel, hardly more than a girl. He had the urge to sternly warn her about picking up hitchhikers, but since he needed a ride, he decided to save that lecture for when he was getting out of the vehicle. "Hello," he said softly, trying to appear nonthreatening.

She gave him a tremulous smile, looking a little hesitant. "Um, hi. I guess you need a ride, right?"

He nodded again. "If it isn't too much trouble?"

She shook her head, and the lock disengaged. "I can take you pretty much wherever you need to go. I don't have a destination."

He opened the door and slid carefully into the seat, leaning back against it and keeping a respectable distance between them so the girl wouldn't feel skittish. "I'd appreciate it if you could take me to the nearest military base, miss." Just saying the words made his stomach clench and sent a trail of acid burning up his esophagus. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but what alternative was there?

She nodded, putting the car in gear, and her little sedan ate up the distance between himself and captivity far more quickly than he would have liked. He almost snorted at the thought. Captivity seemed unlikely. It would probably be a temporary state, but his ultimate fate was likely execution. What else would they do with him after going to such lengths to kill him and his teammates?

The girl, whose name he'd learned was Celia, pulled up in front of the closest military base a little more than an hour later. When she slid the gearshift into park, the slight sound was like a rocket exploding to his stretched nerves. He actually flinched, but quickly regained control. With a word of thanks to her, along with the admonishment not to pick up strangers, he waved to Celia as he got out of her car before approaching the guard booth.

As Celia's car backed away before turning a U-turn, he walked closer to the guards, who both stood at attention, hands on their weapons. He was careful to keep his hands extended away from him, making it obvious he was unarmed.

The younger of the two guards took a step forward. "State your business and provide identification please."

"My name is Wyatt Stone, and I'm here to turn myself in."

At the sound of his name, the slightly older guard stiffened, bringing his gun fully on Wyatt. "Don't move. I don't even want to see you blink, or I'll blow you away."

Wyatt was mildly amused. Did the M.P. really think he had come voluntarily onto a government base to surrender himself just to get shot for threatening behavior? He understood the kid had a job to do, but he wondered if there was a dose of common sense missing there.

Instead of speaking, he simply remained standing semi-at-ease with his arms extended at his sides until the younger M.P. approached, handcuffing him. He didn't resist. Why would he? This was the only way he could keep Gillian safe. If they had him, they'd have no further reason to pursue her.

His armed escort marched him into the base and straight to the brig. No one paid much attention to him aside from a few whispers and long stares, and he ignored them as he stepped into the cell and took a seat on the bunk. It was a canvas cot, not even a metal frame with a thin mattress, but during his time in the military, he'd certainly slept on worse.

He stretched out, trying to summon the old habit of being able to fall asleep anywhere. He was certain he would need his rest for the ordeal ahead, but he couldn't seem to quiet his mind enough to allow himself to sleep. He wasn't too concerned about his own fate, since he pretty well knew what it entailed. It wouldn't be long before Wyatt Stone was nothing more than an expunged military record.

Instead, his focus was on Gillian and the future they could have had if he had made a different choice years ago, deciding to do anything but serve his country, or deciding not to volunteer for the enhancement program that would supposedly make him a better soldier. All the different paths he could have taken stretched out before him, and all of them led to Gillian, except this one.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, and he regretted fiercely what had brought them to this point. In spite of all that, he couldn't regret the brief time he'd had her in his arms again, and he finally drifted off to sleep as he imagined her in Mexico, wind in her hair as she played in the sand with a little boy who looked a lot like Wyatt.

It was the best future he could hope for, at least for Gillian. He doubted he had made her pregnant, though they hadn't bothered with protection, since they'd had none—or even thought about it at the time—but he liked the idea of his legacy continuing, and of Gillian having at least a small piece of him as a consolation prize. She'd be a good mother, and she would raise their child well. It was a comforting fantasy that turned into a vivid dream as he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

# Chapter Seven

As soon as Gillian awoke, she knew she was alone. There was a complete absence of Wyatt's presence, telling her he was nowhere in the vicinity and hadn't simply slipped from the truck. She wasn't sure how she knew, except she responded to him on a fundamental level, and that response was absent. With a small sigh, she stretched as she sat up, hugging his jacket to her for a moment before finding her clothing. She dressed hastily before looking around the barn from the cab of the truck. Though she knew it was futile, she slipped from the driver's side and examined the entire barn to ensure he wasn't inside.

With no sign of him in the interior, she stepped out and scanned the field around her, along with the gravel road. The heavy rain had stirred up the rocks to reveal mud underneath, and she could make out a line of footprints leading away from the truck. She didn't have to follow them long to realize he had walked down the road they had taken to get to the barn, likely to connect with the main road. Beyond that, his destination was a mystery.

Feeling lost and hurt, she stepped back into the barn and closed the door behind her. With nothing else to do, she returned to the truck, and when she stepped into the cab again, she saw the piece of paper Wyatt had left her. She picked it up, uncertain what the numbers meant for a moment before she realized they were points of latitude and longitude.

There was a small heart in the corner, and it devastated her to see. It was more jarring than a simple goodbye would have been. It was Wyatt's proof that he still loved her, and he was willing to throw it away on whatever mission he had embarked upon, all without sharing the idea with her or getting any input on the matter.

She summoned a small shred of hope when she looked at the coordinates again, along with the word _Sanctuary_ underlined three times. Of course she recalled Malcolm calling it that, so these must be the coordinates for the safe house in Mexico. Could it be Wyatt had decided to go there separately from her? Would he be waiting for her when she arrived, maybe thinking it was safer if they traveled separately?

It seemed like a long shot, but she had nothing else to do. Her other alternative was to return to her life in Shifter Springs, where she might or might not be a target of the government, but would certainly be without Wyatt. The coordinates for Sanctuary were her last, tenuous link to the man she loved. As soon as she saw him again, she was going to read him the riot act for making a decision like this without her, but then she was going to throw herself into his arms and make him promise he'd never leave her again.

With that resolve in mind, she turned on the stolen truck and eased out of the barn, bumping the doors carefully with the vehicle to open them since she hadn't thought to leave the exit open when she'd reentered the barn earlier. The wood creaked in protest, but the doors swung open, and she was soon back on the gravel road that led to the main highway. It didn't take long to return to the flow of traffic, which was still sparse this early in the morning, a fact for which she was grateful.

Even if the government wasn't looking for her by herself, or expecting her to be traveling solo, she was still driving around in a stolen truck, taken from people they had technically assaulted. It had been self-defense, but she was likely to be arrested if she caught the attention of anyone.

With that thought in mind, she ditched the truck in a shopping mall as soon as she came to the next large city and took a city bus to the main bus depot. There, she caught a bus to San Diego, pausing briefly to buy snacks and a burner phone from a vending machine. It had a GPS program she downloaded with the included data plan, allowing her to plot a course to Sanctuary. She could only hope Malcolm had Wyatt there with him, or knew his plan and whereabouts.

Thinking of him had her reaching for the duffel bag beside her, where she had stowed the radio and a few of the guns. She had left the rifles behind, assuming they would be unregistered and untraceable, and would have drawn too much attention to the fact she had weapons in her bag. She had to be breaking several laws with bringing the weapons aboard the bus, especially since they weren't registered to her, but she felt better having them nearby.

Wyatt's coat covered the guns and the radio, and no one had asked to inspect her bag. She still planned to keep it with her every second during the long ride, and she hoped to figure out how to use the radio at some point at one of the stops. She had seen Wyatt assemble it, but she didn't know the coordinates or the station in which to tune. She wasn't optimistic that she could figure it out, but she still felt better having the link to Wyatt's teammates than she did not having it.

She was still tired after her long night, followed by her early morning lovemaking with Wyatt, and she secured the bag on her left side, between her and the side of the bus, before trying to close her eyes for a small nap. Worry consumed her, both for herself and Wyatt, along with a strong dose of irritation at her mate for having put her in this position without talking to her. Mostly, she just felt frightened and drained, which was a strange combination. It left her feeling hyper, but drowsy. Sleep was a long time coming, and when it did, the state was restless as nightmares plagued her.

Getting into Mexico was surprisingly easy, as she discovered two days later. She hadn't seen further signs or TV warnings about her being a wanted fugitive. Wyatt's face had also disappeared from the news, and while she should have been encouraged by that, she had a sinking sensation in her belly instead. The closer she drew to Sanctuary, the more convinced she became Wyatt wouldn't be there. She was starting to suspect he had done something noble, yet idiotic, like turning himself in to protect her.

She still clung to the hope that she would see him, but it dimmed considerably when she was allowed to cross the border with barely more than a cursory glance at her driver's license. She didn't have her passport, so she would find it far harder to return to the United States if she chose to, but she'd worry about that later. First, she had to reach Malcolm's place and discover if Wyatt waited there for her.

The first part of the journey was relatively easy, consisting of a system of taxis, public buses, and reasonably well-paved roads. The driving scared her, so when she was riding, she tried to close her eyes and pretend like she was anywhere else. That worked fine until she arrived in a small town at the foot of the mountains called San Sadoval.

This place was different than the other small towns and larger cities she had been through during the past two days traveling Mexico. There were very few cars, and certainly no taxis that she saw anywhere. The bus immediately turned around after dropping her and two other people at the last stop, heading back the way it had come. She looked at the two people who had gotten off the bus with her, and though they avoided making eye contact, she stepped closer. "Is there somewhere to get transportation from here?"

The man of the pair gave her look of incomprehension, and she assumed they didn't speak English. Her Spanish was limited, but she made a stab at trying. " _Autobuses_?" She hoped she had pronounced it correctly, and that asking about the bus would at least give them an idea of what she wanted.

Again, they exchanged a look and shrugged before the woman turned away. The man met her gaze just briefly, saying, " _El gato amarillo_."

She frowned at him, but when she would have asked for clarification, he turned and followed his companion.

With no alternative and no ideas, she shouldered the duffel bag and started walking through the sleepy streets. There were people visible doing chores or moving about their business, but none of them made eye contact with the strange foreign woman. She probably did stick out visibly in her Western wear. The few people she spotted here wore a mix of Western attire and traditional Mexican clothing. Many of the women wore vibrant scarves and brightly patterned dresses.

Feeling out of her element, she carefully studied the town as she walked, her heart skipping a beat when she neared an adobe house at the end of the street. Upon closer inspection, she realized it wasn't a house, but some type of business.

As she got nearer, she saw the most signs of life she'd seen thus far, and her heart skipped another beat when she rounded the side of the building to find a large mural of a yellow cat with vibrant green eyes painted into a desert scene. The cat wore a sombrero and danced on his hind feet. She looked up at the sign above the building and recognized the words _El Gato Amarillo_. The yellow cat? That was a rough translation. She doubted she was going to find a bus inside, but perhaps it was a place she could obtain transportation. It was the only lead she had, based solely on information from the man at the bus stop.

Clutching the handle of the duffel bag with the strap over her shoulder, she pushed through the swinging double doors, which made her feel like she was stepping into an Old West saloon. Aside from the swinging doors, the interior bore little resemblance to a western-style club that she had expected. The walls were sandstone, hung with colorful Mexican blankets, and all the tables looked sturdy, as did the chairs. Some of the furnishings were clearly older, but well-maintained, and it didn't look like the kind of place where a random fistfight might break out over an accusation of cheating during a game of cards.

It was late in the afternoon, but the place was already half-filled with occupants. It seemed like every eye in the place turned to stare at her as she made her way to the long teak bar, which had the smooth patina of age and the same general air of care as the rest of the furnishings.

Cautiously, she chose a corner barstool and slid onto it, keeping the duffel bag securely on her lap. She didn't like sitting with her back to the room, though that reaction was prompted mainly by paranoia. Since being on the run, first with Wyatt and now by herself, she felt like she was being watched constantly, though she doubted that was the case. She raised her chin as the bartender approached, ordering a water.

He frowned at her. "Drink or get out." His accent was thick, but he spoke English.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and ordered a shot of tequila that she had no intention of touching as she drank down the water before requesting another. At his suspicious look, she laid a ten-dollar bill on the bar. "Will that cover my tab so far?"

He grunted before taking the money and stuffing it in his pocket. "We don't normally take American dollars this far into the interior, but _El Jefe_ will probably make an exception for a pretty _gringa_ like you."

She didn't like the way the bartender leered at her, but she tried to show no reaction as she drank more slowly on this glass of water. Briefly, she remembered she wasn't supposed to drink the tap water in Mexico, but shrugged off the warning as it surfaced in her mind. In light of the other dangers she'd faced, tainted water seemed negligible.

When the bartender moved to take care of someone else, she turned to casually survey the room, hoping to find a friendly face. She had no such luck in that department, but she did catch the eye of a man sitting in the corner.

He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties, with coppery brown skin and a full beard that had not even a hint of gray. His thick mane of hair had strands of silver woven through it though. He wore a white button-down shirt that contrasted nicely with his darker skin, and when he lifted a hand in her direction, waving her over, she saw several rings on his fingers.

He was obviously someone important, or considered himself important, and while she resented being summoned across the room like a dog, with only the whistle missing to direct her his way, he was the first person who had shown any hint of being willing to engage with her besides the bartender, who only wanted money and would clearly offer no help. With a small sigh of reluctance, she grabbed her water and slid off the stool, clutching the bag as she carefully approached the man who had gestured her forward. When she reached the table, she stood quietly, feeling as though she was being given an audience with the king.

"Sit, _señorita_ ," he said in near-perfect English, with only a slight accent.

She did as invited, though it was really more of a silken demand, pulling out the chair and sitting down while still holding the duffel bag. She put her water on the table and waited for him to speak.

"We don't often have foreigners visit. What brings you to San Sadoval?"

"I'm just passing through," she said carefully.

He arched a thick brow. "Passing through to where, _señorita_?"

She shrugged. "Higher into the mountains."

He frowned. "What business have you in the mountains?"

She paused for a moment to take a sip of water. "What business is that of yours, _señor_?"

"Most people call me _El Jefe_ , and the business is mine because I own this territory."

Gillian swallowed the lump in her throat, struggling not to show any fear. "I see. Well, _El Jefe_ , I'm simply trying to reach a destination. I have a friend who lives up there."

He frowned. "And is your friend a cartel member?"

She shook her head quickly. "No, of course not." As she spoke the words, she wondered if she might be wrong about that. Was Malcolm somehow mixed up in the cartels? It seemed doubtful, but she didn't know him that well. What she knew of him consisted of some email exchanges and a few phone calls.

His expression changed slightly. "I see. There's only one other reason to go up there then, but I can't allow you to pass unless I know what you seek."

It was an odd way to phrase it, and she frowned in puzzlement for a moment as she struggled to tell him what she was seeking. How much to reveal to the stranger, who claimed to own the area? From his aura of power, she doubted he was lying to her or exaggerating his importance or stature among the people of San Sadoval, and the area around it. She had a feeling if he wanted to keep her in the area, restricting her travel into the mountains, he'd have no difficulty doing so. Most likely, he'd simply have to snap his fingers, and a contingent of his people would surround her to lock her away. Or do something worse.

She gulped quietly at the thought before chugging another drink of water, finishing off the glass. "I'm looking for Sanctuary." It was a total stab in the dark, but the way he had phrased the question had been almost like he was looking for a password.

He nodded just once. "I know where you seek. The man who lives there came to me to seek my permission to establish himself and his residence. We share the jaguar." As he spoke, his dark eyes flashed golden, changing slightly, and for just a moment, his face elongated to a muzzle before returning to his human features.

Her eyes widened with comprehension, and she nodded. Malcolm had never told her what type of shifter he was, but he must be a jaguar. Perhaps that was why _El Jefe_ had allowed him to live in his territory, or maybe Malcolm had done a favor for him. It wasn't her business. She simply needed to get to Sanctuary to see if Wyatt was there.

"Has anyone else come through seeking Sanctuary?"

He gave her an enigmatic smile. "Those who seek don't always find. In your case, _señorita_ , I can help you find the place you're looking for. It's a long journey over difficult roads, so rest here tonight as my guest, and I'll have someone take you up the mountain tomorrow."

She shifted impatiently, wanting to get underway right then. "But—"

He lifted a hand, shaking his head just once. "I insist. It's unsafe to travel at night, even when you are the cartel. It's not just my people you have to worry about. There are animals and worse in the mountains. It would be most foolish of you to try to slip away and go on your own. Wait for morning, and you'll be where you seek by tomorrow afternoon."

With a small sigh, trying not to show her irritation, she nodded. "Is there an inn nearby?"

He shook his head. "San Sadoval is not set up for tourists. However, I would be pleased to offer you a room at my _hacienda_."

She was nervous about the idea, but Gillian was certain offending _El Jefe_ would be perilous to her health. She took some comfort in the guns resting on her lap, able to feel the hard contours through the duffel bag. They were probably a gossamer security, but it was all she had. Summoning a smile of gratitude that she didn't really feel, she nodded. "Thank you for your hospitality, _El Jefe_."

Somewhat to Gillian's surprise, _El Jefe_ had been a perfect gentleman, and she had felt safe in the room he had assigned her—at least once she had locked the door and shoved a heavy piece of furniture in front of it. As far as she could tell, her room had remained undisturbed all night, and she should know. She'd spent most of the night staring at the door while holding one of the pistols in her hand. She had nodded off once or twice, curled up on the chaise lounge she had positioned for the task, but never for more than a few minutes.

She was exhausted, but safe, when she left the room the next morning and joined _El Jefe_ for breakfast, finding the room he had pointed out to her the evening before. After a bracing breakfast of _huevos rancheros_ and several cups of strong Columbian coffee, he parted from her upon entrusting her to two of his men.

They didn't speak much to her, but they didn't make her feel threatened either. Soon after they started the drive up the mountain, she realized why _El Jefe_ had insisted she stay overnight and not start out until morning. The road was little more than a path through the jungle, jolting and jostling her along the way. Even in the bright light of day, she could see how it would be easy to wander from the small path, and how one could end up lost in the mountain area.

Though it was a rough trip up the mountain, she was reassured by how difficult it was to reach Malcolm's place. When they finally arrived late that afternoon, they stopped outside a set of imposing gates built into a stone wall at least twenty feet tall. Cameras focused on the car, and a crisp voice came over the intercom. "State your business."

" _El Jefe_ sends his regards, along with a guest." The driver spoke the words tersely, and his accent was heavy.

Still speaking in English, the voice said, "Have her step out."

Her? Gillian questioned that as she slowly slid from the Jeep, closing the door behind her. He must have good cameras, or maybe his shifter-enhanced eyesight had identified her as female.

She stood beside the vehicle as the camera focused in on her. "Malcolm?" she asked hesitantly.

There was a crackle ecstatic before he answered. "Do I know you?"

"It's me." She cleared her throat. "Gillian."

His next words made her heart drop into her stomach. "Where's Wyatt?"

She hung her head for a brief moment, blinking back tears. "I'd hoped he was with you. My guess is he did something stupid to protect me. I think he turned himself in to the government."

Malcolm let out a scoffing sound through the intercom system. His next words were addressed to the driver of the Jeep. "Send my regards to _El Jefe,_ and note the package has been received. There might be a few other packages, and _El Jefe_ knows what to do."

With a nod, the driver started up the Jeep and reversed. Gillian was glad she had grabbed the duffel bag when she slid out, because the Jeep was gone so quickly she wouldn't have had time to flag down the driver to claim her possessions otherwise.

The gate rumbled as it clanged open, shuddering slowly apart. He opened it just enough to allow her to slip through sideways before closing it again. Malcolm was clearly serious about security. After the experiences she'd had the last few days, she was glad for that.

She walked along the cobblestone driveway, moving as quickly as she could. It was little more than a paved path through a jungle of landscape that likely provided excellent coverage. A canopy of trees overhead shielded her, giving the appearance of walking through a tunnel. It also blocked out the sunlight to a certain extent, further reinforcing the tunnel feeling.

She screamed in surprise when a dark form suddenly materialized in front of her. Her hand went to the gun she had slipped into her waistband before setting out in the Jeep early that morning, but before she could even draw the weapon, the person stepped closer, and his features coalesced from the shadows. He had intense golden eyes, set in a rugged face that wasn't exactly handsome, but was oddly appealing. If she hadn't been one hundred percent Wyatt's woman, she probably would have found this man attractive. "Malcolm?"

He nodded. "Come with me, Gillian. Let's see if we can unravel what's happening and figure out where Wyatt is."

She nodded as she followed him, realizing they were slowly moving down an incline. When they reached the bottom, he pushed aside some vines and pressed a button that was obvious now that he showed it to her. A door slid open, and it looked like it was reinforced steel. He gestured for her to go first before following her inside and closing it behind them.

They were in the dim interior, and it was cool and refreshing after the heat of the day outside. She could feel air blowing on her and guessed it had central air-conditioning. "What is this place?"

"Sanctuary," he said simply.

She nodded. "That's what Wyatt said, and that was the word that got me past _El Jefe_. But I mean what is this structure?"

He smiled at her as he led her through the hallway, which was far better lit than the tree tunnel they had used to reach it. "Essentially, it's a bunker built into the mountain. It's almost undetectable to satellite, and the only structure that shows is the wall outside. That can't be helped, but it's our main weakness."

She looked around her as they left the long tunnel-like entrance and entered a main antechamber. This looked like a residence, complete with a sofa, armchairs, and a big-screen television. There were two people seated in the area. Though they wore civilian clothes, they both had the look of a soldier from their straight posture and close attention. They were clearly tense until Malcolm nodded just once. Then they both relaxed in sync, as though he had issued a silent command to be at-ease.

With his hand on her upper back, he drew her forward, taking her first to the woman who had sprawled on the couch in an easy manner now that she was no longer at attention. She was both beautiful and exotic, with tanned golden skin, deep black hair, and slightly almond-shaped dark eyes. When she smiled, it transformed her from aloof to friendly, and she held out a hand.

"Gillian, this is Alexandria, or Lex, as we call her."

She took the other woman's hand and shook it, smiling in return.

Malcolm then led her to the other man, who sat in an armchair. He was more watchful and less relaxed, but his expression wasn't terribly closed-off. He clearly wasn't as friendly as Lex, but he didn't make her feel unwelcome or frightened. He didn't bother holding out his hand, but he did nod in her direction when Malcolm introduced them. "And this is Devon."

"Where's Wyatt?" asked Lex, and even her voice was exotic, a blend of sultry and innocent.

"I don't know," said Gillian. "I think he turned himself in to protect me."

Devon snorted. "That's crazy."

"She's his mate," said Malcolm softly. "Who knows what we'd do for our mates?" There was a hint of longing in his tone.

"I know what I'd do," said Gillian, straightening her shoulders. "I'd do anything, and that means I'll do anything to get him back safely. So how are we going to do that?" Devon seemed mildly amused by her words, but Lex was nodding eagerly.

Malcolm appeared utterly serious as well. "First we have to find out where he is, and then we're going to break him out."

"Fort Glacier," said Devon.

Gillian turned to look at him with a frown of confusion. "What's Fort Glacier?"

"It's a secret base in Montana," said Lex. "Lots of black-ops type things, the sort of experiments and groups that aren't recorded on any official government rolls."

"And home to Project Shift," said Malcolm.

"Is that where they did what they did to Wyatt?" asked Gillian.

"And to the rest of us," said Devon in a voice utterly devoid of emotion.

"It's where they are most likely to take him if they didn't execute him on sight," said Malcolm. "It's our only shot at getting him back. If he's not there, I don't know where he is. Our computer specialist is gone."

"Who was that?"

"Joanna," said Lex, her brow furrowing. "She was good at all this stuff."

"She was our encryption specialist, among other things," said Malcolm. His pain was visible for a moment as well.

A pang shot through Gillian as she recognized their grief, realizing they were still mourning the lost people in their group. Her focus had been, and still was, solely on Wyatt, but they had lost more than Wyatt. They had three confirmed dead, and a number of teammates missing. She wondered briefly if they were up to the task of rescuing Wyatt. "It sounds like a difficult mission," she said delicately, intending to probe carefully into their emotional statuses.

"It is. Fort Glacier's hell to get in and out of, but we're going to do it. We aren't going to leave Wyatt there to rot, or allow them to subject him to more experiments before disposing of him like garbage."

The resolve Malcolm clearly felt was reflected in Devon and Lex's face too, and most of her worries melted away. They were clearly all scarred from the events that had happened to them, along with what was still happening, and though they were hampered by grief, they weren't crippled by it. In fact, she suspected it would strengthen them in the mission ahead, as they were clearly resolute about not losing anyone else.

For the first time since stepping out of the Jeep and receiving confirmation that Wyatt wasn't waiting for her, she felt a renewed sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, she would see her mate again, whole and alive, if not completely healed. That could come later. First, she just needed to get him back.

# Chapter Eight

Wyatt paced in his cell, continuously looking over at the one beside him. His new pseudo-roommate had joined him last night, dragged in unconscious by three M.P.s and heaved into the cell. They'd just left the man lying on the cold floor, and at his age, that could be dangerous if he hadn't been in such good health.

Wyatt waited for him to wake up, and he had been unconscious all night. At this point in time, Wyatt wasn't convinced it wasn't some kind of game they were playing, so he was wary and watchful.

When the older man finally stirred, slowly returning to consciousness, Wyatt approached the cell wall separating them, which was simply a system of bars. He grasped two of them in his hand and pressed his face forward as close as he could as the other man blinked and looked up at him, seeming a little confused. "Hello, Colonel Wallace. You're the last asshole I expected to see in here."

The colonel clutched his head, seeming to be battling a pounding skull. It took him a moment to speak. "Damn, I thought you had gotten away from them, Wyatt."

Wyatt eyed him skeptically. "I have a hard time believing that since you're the one who dragged me into this mess, Colonel."

Wallace shrugged. "I did what I thought was right at the time. I bought the line of crap they were selling just the same as you, Wyatt. They enhanced me as well. You and the rest of the team didn't go through anything I didn't experience myself."

Wyatt's eyes widened at that bit of knowledge, though he wasn't entirely certain he could believe the older man. "You're telling me you went through the regimen of drugs and programming, just like us? Are you really claiming you had no idea they were going to throw us away at the end after they'd used us for all they could, and then hunt us down one by one to remove all evidence?"

The colonel sighed heavily. "I don't expect you to believe it, but it's the truth. I was in hiding, same as you, when they found me. The only reason I warranted staying alive was because they thought they could use me to convince the rest of you to come in of your own volition." He snorted. "As if I'd betray you guys any further for them. I had no idea what they planned either, and that's the truth. Take it or leave it, Sergeant Stone."

Wyatt grimaced. "I'm not a sergeant anymore, Colonel."

He nodded. "I'm not technically a colonel either since I went AWOL. When I found out what they were doing, I tried to warn all of you. I almost made contact with Malcolm one time, but I couldn't quite nail down the frequency you were using. I knew you had to have a specific one, since it just made sense, but the most I ever got was a little bit of static and a few words of his transmission about sanctuary. I didn't have the key for the code though."

"You would have had to hear the whole message to get the code anyway." Wyatt crossed his arms over his chest as he propped his shoulder against the bar. "What do you know about what's happening to us?" He wasn't ready to trust the older man yet, but he wanted some explanation for what was happening and hoped Wallace could provide it.

"They didn't tell me everything once they figured out I wasn't on board with their plan. What I've pieced together is that they've decided full shifters were too unpredictable. We're too prone to reassert our intellect over our animal at a crucial moment. Essentially, no matter how many drugs they pumped into us, or how they conditioned us, our conscience was more likely to overcome that programming. We all did atrocities under their control, but every single one of us apparently refused to do the worst of the worst type of tasks. I didn't get to see all the files, but I was able to snoop through enough to discover that for myself. We're too human to be fully controlled, even when they regress us to our animal state."

"So what the hell are those things they sent after us? They were like some weird hybrid of a human and a shifter, but with something else."

"That's the newest science project, Wyatt. They've taken our DNA and manipulated it, so-called enhancing regular human soldiers through altering their DNA via epigenetics. If that weren't enough, they also included a dose of artificial intelligence via chips in their brain that allow for instant control and reduce or eliminate the need for mental conditioning and programming."

Wyatt shuddered. "I guess they haven't figured out how to fully shift back and forth yet, have they?"

The colonel lifted a shoulder. "I think it's deliberate. They don't want them to fully shift. They want to control every aspect of the supersoldiers, and they want them to be damn intimidating too. Anyone is going to be frightened if they see a bear running at them, but they might be paralyzed with terror at the sight of a half-man, half-bear beast pursuing them. They want maximum efficiency in their drones, which is essentially what these poor bastards are."

He scoffed. "Poor bastards, my ass. They've already killed at least three of us, and they would have killed me and my mate if we hadn't fought them off."

With a nod, the colonel said, "That's true, but they were once volunteers just like us, conned into thinking they were doing something good for their country and for their fellow teammates. I don't think these people can be saved. There's nothing left, at least not much left, of the people they were, but I have sympathy for the fact that they were once human. They didn't expect to be a damn freak show any more than we did."

Chastened, Wyatt slowly sank to the floor of the cell, leaning his shoulders against the bars and turning his back mostly to George. "Yeah, I guess you have a point. It doesn't help much though. It's easier to see them as tools of a military experiment gone mad than former people."

"Sure as fuck is," said the colonel as he assumed a similar position in his cell, cupping his head in his hands.

"What did they do to you?"

The colonel shifted slightly. "They tried to convince me to cooperate with their idea of luring you all in. When I refused, they tried motivating me. Even when they forced out my hyena, I still didn't let them control me enough to do something I'd regret later. They've decided shifters are too darned stubborn."

Wyatt let out a combination snort/laugh. "I can't really argue with that. I've spent the last eighteen months holed up in a cabin, trying to deny my nature and escape the bear, all while depriving myself of my mate. She tried to get me to change my mind, but I was too set on my course of action to listen to her. I could have spent the last eighteen months of my life with the woman I love, before they did away with me."

The colonel let out a bitter laugh. "I know how you feel. Joanna was my mate."

Wyatt jerked in surprise. "What?"

With a bitter chuckle, the older man said, "Bears aren't the only shifters who can recognize their mates. It doesn't always happen for hyenas, but when it does, we just know. I tried to forget about it, and to forget about her, since I was twenty years older than she was. I never did anything about it, and now she's gone. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, and it's hard to say whether recruiting all of you for the enhancement project or letting my mate slip away was the worst one." His voice cracked on the last two words, and he fell silent for a moment, clearly needing to gather his composure.

Wyatt closed his eyes, summoning an image of Gillian to comfort himself. The silence they shared this time was companionable as they dwelt on their regrets. Finally, he managed to speak again. "So why did they go after us?"

"It's just like Mal said. They were never going to let us continue being loose ends, my boy. This is the government, and the deepest, darkest arm of it. They don't want their secrets getting out. They let us go until they were assured of their newest project's success, and then they set about quietly removing us. They wanted to hide what was happening so the public wouldn't ask questions, and so we wouldn't catch on in time to protect ourselves."

"Do you have a plan for getting out of here yet, George?" It felt a little strange to call his former commanding officer by his first name, but something had shifted between them, and aside from the formality removed by the fact Wyatt was no longer an active-duty soldier, they had shared a connection that made it seem ridiculous to keep calling the older man Colonel or just plain Wallace.

George snorted. "Not yet, but once my skull stops pounding, maybe inspiration will strike me." He cursed softly when he heard the sound of the hydraulic door rumbling open in the next room. "You'd better hope inspiration strikes quickly, or we're both screwed."

He was racking his brain in his own right, looking for a way out, or a logical means of escape. He knew they'd just have to play it by ear and look for an opening if there was one.

Suddenly, the idea of sitting here allowing them to execute him seemed foolish. Had he really bought Gillian safety with his act, or had he been deluding himself with his act of nobility, bordering on stupidity? She knew about him, the program, and shifters. If the government ever discovered Shifter Springs, where shifters tended to live openly among each other, the entire town would be destroyed, along with Gillian.

He didn't know if she'd gone home, or if she'd gone to Sanctuary, but he hoped she had chosen to continue on to Mal. His friend would keep her safe, since Wyatt had acted impulsively in an attempt to do so that now seemed futile. He could add this rash decision to his long list of things he regretted, right there alongside keeping himself away from Gillian for the last year-and-a-half.

Gillian was no soldier, so she had remained at the rear position, following the far more seasoned warriors into battle. She had probably made a ton of mistakes, but none of the three had pointed them out her. She had simply shadowed them as they infiltrated the base, first by stealth, and then by a show of force upon discovery.

She was impressed by how quickly and ruthlessly the three of them dealt with the soldiers sent their way, but she was expecting a confrontation with those things that had attacked her and Wyatt earlier. She doubted even as competent and strong as these three were that they would be able to easily handle that variation of horror that had likely emerged from this very base.

Lex had tapped into their system, and she was quickly scrolling through electronic files. "They have the supersoldiers, as they're calling them, _en route_ with an ETA of five minutes. They were all out on scouting missions looking for us apparently. Let's move, people."

Gillian clutched the submachine gun Mal had given her from his stash back at sanctuary. She'd had a very short, quick tutorial on how to use it, but thankfully it was the weapon equivalent to a plug-and-play peripheral.

Devon had liberated a security pass from one of the superiors they had encountered along the way, and so far it had granted them access to every door. The next one they tried was no exception, and it rumbled open with a loud clanging sound, followed by a hiss. According to the map Lex had downloaded from their mainframe, this should be where they were holding Wyatt.

She abandoned caution in her need to find him, moving through the door just after Malcolm. She ignored Lex's hissed words for her to hang back, letting out a small cry when she saw Wyatt crouched in a cell. She broke into a run, crossing the last few feet separating them in a matter of seconds.

She reached the cell door, unconsciously yanking on it without realizing it required a key for a moment. "When I get you out of here, Wyatt, I'm probably going to kick your ass before I kiss you."

He had moved from his crouching position to approach the bars, putting his hand through to take one of hers. "Why don't you flip that order around, because I could use a kiss right this second."

The door through which they were holding hands suddenly sprang open, but only a few inches. It was enough to make her rear back from the surprise, but when she recovered, she pulled the bars closer toward her, swinging the door completely open. As Wyatt stepped through, she threw herself into his arms, only vaguely aware of the other three turning their weapons toward the second man in the room. She'd barely been aware of him in her quest to reach Wyatt, and she forced herself to pull away from her mate after only a brief kiss, so she didn't miss what was happening.

"I'm on your side," said the older man, sounding irritable.

"We don't have any proof of that," said Devon.

"I think he's telling the truth," said Wyatt softly, causing his teammates to temporarily freeze before all three looked at him as though they were one cohesive unit. She supposed that was an accurate description, because that's exactly what they used to be, and old habits wouldn't fade so quickly.

"You can't be serious," said Lex with a scoffing sound.

Wyatt nodded, moving away from her to face his teammates more fully. He grunted his approval when Gillian moved behind him, putting her arms around his waist as she rested her cheek against his back. She couldn't let him out of her range of touch, at least not yet.

"I'm not kidding. I believe George was dragged into this just as much as we were. He was sold the same gold-plated turd as the rest of us. He's on our side."

Gillian peeked around his back, just in time to see Malcolm and Wyatt share a meaningful look before Mal nodded. "I'll take your word for it then, Wyatt, if you're prepared to vouch for him."

Wyatt nodded, moving to a position that was more at attention. He pulled Gillian along for the ride, because she refused to let go. "I take full responsibility for his actions."

"So be it," said Malcolm. "We need to get the hell out of here now, because those soldier things are coming back to base, and we're outnumbered."

Gillian grasped Wyatt's hand as he turned to her, reaching for it. She moved quietly and quickly beside him, doing her best to keep up with the rapid pace Mal set. The only other person who seemed to struggle at all was the colonel, and he was clearly wheezing. She shot him a concerned look, asking as they ran, "Are you all right?" Since he was a shifter of some sort, but he was only barely keeping pace with her, she was certain the answer was going to be negative.

"I will be. I just haven't had a chance to heal yet. I think they broke some ribs." He started coughing, blood bubbling abruptly out of his mouth. "Maybe punctured a damn lung." He stopped running, leaning against the wall while gasping and wheezing.

"Hold up," called Gillian to the group. "The colonel is sick."

"Just shift and get it over with," said Malcolm, sounding irritated. "Heal yourself so we can get moving, Wallace."

Gillian had seen shifters shift before, including Wyatt many times, but she'd never met a hyena-shifter. She averted her eyes politely when the older man stripped off his uniform, but she looked back in time to see the shift to the hyena. She'd never considered hyenas particularly beautiful or graceful, but the colonel was clearly the exception. For being somewhat top-heavy and vicious-looking, there was a wild gracefulness about him that was mesmerizing.

When he shifted back a moment later, she quickly looked away, not wanting to see his intimate human parts. He already looked better by the time she looked at him again as he was donning his uniform, slipping on an olive-green T-shirt over his cammies.

Once the colonel was healed, Malcolm set an absolutely brutal pace, moving so quickly she could barely keep up. She let out a startled cry when Wyatt abruptly turned and lifted her into his arms, tossing her over his shoulder in a motion that was unintentionally rough, simply because he was trying to secure her safely. She didn't particularly enjoy the position, or the lack of dignity it brought with it, but at least she was no longer slowing them down.

Even with their new rapid pace, they had lost too much time, and they had barely slipped from the base when she heard the _whomp whomp whomp_ sound of a helicopter. She looked up in dismay as the gunship approached, not bothering with landing. It simply hovered near the ground as it had done at Wyatt's cabin, disgorging its passengers in a blur of moving bodies. Wyatt set her down on her feet, and she counted seven slipping off the helicopter before it lifted into the air and moved deeper into the structure of the base, clearly heading for its own landing pad.

She whimpered as she clutched her gun a little tighter, flipping off the safety to ensure it was ready to shoot, because she was bound to need the bullets inside.

Wyatt stepped forward, doing his best to keep Gillian hidden behind him. His teammates were already shifting, but he couldn't do it. If he surrendered control to the bear, even though he thought his bear was more in control now than it had been the last time he'd shifted a year-and-a-half ago, he might not be able to return, at least not with any shred of himself intact.

It happened quickly. One moment, the newest generation of enhanced soldiers looked fully human, and the next they were that mishmash hybrid of human and shifter, smelling wrong to his nose. He growled at them, and it was strictly a bear sound issuing from him, revealing his bear was closer to the surface than he'd thought.

He tried to suppress the need to shift, moving forward to engage the one that looked like it was a cross between _Homo sapiens_ and lemur, but far scarier, with viciously sharp claws and fangs that dripped with saliva. However they had enhanced this one, they had clearly gone overboard with their so-called improvements.

It was stronger than it looked, requiring all of his concentration and stamina to withstand the attack. He was abruptly aware of Gillian pressing a gun into his hand, and he was startled that he hadn't thought to get one from the group as soon as they had opened the doors. He'd been too distracted by having Gillian nearby and defending the colonel.

It felt good to have a familiar weapon in his hand, and he brought it up to press between the enhanced soldier's eyes as soon as he had an opening. The man-thing hissed at him, trying to jerk away, but not quickly enough to avoid the bullet that smashed through its brain. It dropped to the ground almost immediately, with no time for death throes or other nonsense. It was simply dead, a fact which he confirmed by kicking it before moving on to the next confrontation.

As he fought his way through, accompanied by the shifters at his side, he was proud of himself for maintaining control over the bear. He was accomplishing this goal without needing to shift, so surely that must mean he had finally conquered the beast inside him again. The last few years, since coming under control of the government, had been worse than the few years he'd spent in puberty, first learning how to control shifting, and then how to control his animal side when he was shifted. There had been little control over the last few years, even after escaping, and it was good to have it back.

His tenuous control snapped completely when he heard Gillian cry out. He turned his head to look in her direction, fur bristling in his back, and a low growl escaping him when he saw one of the enhanced soldiers had her pinned to the ground. The monstrosity wasn't content with trying to kill her though. It was ripping at her pants, clearly wanting to mate with his mate. A roar of rage left him, and as her pants ripped, his clothes burst at the same time when the bear inside him lunged to the surface, no longer willing to be denied or held back.

In his bear form, he charged the human–lion combination, ripping the man from Gillian before unleashing all his rage. He was glad that his human side was blunted, shielding him from most of the effects and actions of his bear, but he witnessed enough in the back of his mind to be both sickened, but also pleased, by his bear's brutality. The thing had it coming after trying to hurt Gillian. Trying to kill her was bad enough, but to inflict such a horrible fate on her as it had planned was unacceptable. Wyatt let go of the last strands of his control, surrendering completely to the bear as it savaged their enemy.

He was surprised to find he didn't completely lose awareness of what was happening. The more the military had experimented on him, the less control he'd had over the bear, and by the end, he had practically no memories remaining of the periods he spent shifted in his bear form. That had settled down, and this was more like the shifts of old. His bear was enraged, and Wyatt was making no attempt to rein him in, but he was certain he could if he needed to.

That supposition was tested a moment later when Gillian put her hand on his shoulder, making his bear growl in her direction for a moment before returning its attention to the enhanced soldier.

"I'm pretty sure he's gone, Wyatt. You can let go now."

Just like that, at the sound of her voice—soft and gentle, but without a shred of fear—he was able to immediately reassert control over the bear. It happened so quickly that he shifted back without even having planned to do so just yet.

Through human eyes, he looked around and saw three bodies on the ground. Four, when he added the one he was crouched beside. The other three supersoldiers weren't in sight, and he could only assume they had fled or been recalled when their handlers realized the battle wasn't going the way they had planned. He had no doubt the government had pumped millions or billions of dollars into the project and would want to ensure they had samples left to continue the experiment, even if that meant pursuing Wyatt's team another day.

He shuddered at the thought, but got to his feet and reached for Gillian. It was only after she was in his arms, her lips pressed to his, that he gave a thought to all the blood smeared on his body. When he pulled away a moment later, he winced at the sight of her soaked with the enhanced soldier's blood. "Are you injured?"

She shook her head. "You stopped him before he could do much besides knock me to the ground and rake my side." She turned slightly to show him her stomach and waist, lifting her shirt a little below her bra line. She winced at the sight, and he flinched in sympathy. It was a nasty, deep wound, and she'd definitely need stitches, but it wasn't going to be fatal.

"Let's get out of here," said Malcolm, taking the lead in spite of Wallace technically being the commanding officer, if they were still following their old protocols.

"That sounds like heaven to me," said Wyatt, putting his arms around Gillian and pulling her close to him. He didn't look down at the remains of the soldier he had fought, not needing to brand the image in his mind. He had enough horrific memories already that he didn't need to acquire any further ones.

The base might have gone into lockdown, because they encountered little resistance as they made their way through, having decided to take George's suggestion of borrowing the helicopter, since both Lex and George could fly. The few soldiers they encountered were strictly human, and even with guns and training, they weren't much of a match for the shifters.

Wyatt had remained in human form, sans clothes since he'd lost his during the shift. He'd insisted Gillian continue behind him, though he was poised to shift at a millisecond's notice, if needed. They didn't run into a situation that required it, but he still didn't let out a deep breath of relief until the helicopter was in the air, piloted by Lex's expert hands. He looked back at the base, which was little more than an outcropping of buildings, since most of Fort Glacier was buried underground. He knew firsthand the horrors that occurred there, and if he could, he would have blown the place right then.

They abandoned the helicopter near the border, certain it was trackable. They made their way on foot from there to a spot where Malcolm and the others had stored the vehicles they'd used to reach Montana. Fortunately, Mal also had extra clothes, so Wyatt was finally able to put on some pants.

They drove to a small hanger in the middle of nowhere, and somehow all fit on the small Cessna waiting there. Gillian had fallen asleep in his arms, and he held her the entire time, first in the vehicle, and then on his lap on the plane. She didn't wake until Lex landed the plane at their destination a few hours later.

Even after waking, she made no attempt to move off his lap, though she was clearly angry by the sparkle in her eyes. As they moved from the plane to a pair of Land Rovers, he chose the backseat with her sprawled across his lap, hugging her against him. "Let me have it," he whispered.

She glared up at him. "I should. You have no idea how furious I am with you. You made the wrong decision, but worst of all, you didn't even ask me or consult me about it. It was my future too, and you had no right to put yourself at risk that way."

He nodded. "I was trying to protect you, but —"

"You couldn't protect me from them by turning yourself in. They wouldn't have stopped looking for me either. I was a loose end."

He nodded. "I sort of figured that out for myself, though I heard they canceled APBs for us. They were doing that when they arrested me."

"I'm not surprised," said Malcolm from the front seat, where he was driving. His contribution to the conversation destroyed any illusion of privacy. "Gillian wasn't any less a target, but they didn't want a lot of attention drawn to her. The more people who saw your pictures, both of you, the more people would remember who you were and might ask about what had happened to you, or what your crimes were. They'll still be coming for her, and for all of us, but we bought some time."

"Will we be safe at Sanctuary?" asked Gillian, her lips trembling.

Malcolm shrugged. "I hope so. I think so anyway, but I have a system of safe houses throughout the world. I want everyone to memorize their coordinates, so you'll always have somewhere to go if we get separated."

"Is that safe?" asked Gillian.

Wyatt shook his head. "It's not ideal that we separate, but it might be necessary sometimes."

It was her turn to shake her head. "I know that," she said with an obvious touch of exasperation. "I meant is it safe for us all to know the coordinates? If they got hold of us and tortured us, or had some other means of extraction, they'd know where all the safe houses are."

"They're rendezvous points, not the houses themselves," said Malcolm, sounding unconcerned. "We'd meet up at the coordinates, and then the code will tell everyone where to go. There's a delay process for the coding to begin, and then there's translating required. It's not one hundred percent secure, but it's the best choice we have."

"I'm scared."

Wyatt stiffened at Gillian's small confession, pulling her closer. His bear purred in contentment, having moved past the bloodlust from earlier to a far more sated state. It was the first time he'd heard his bear clearly in his mind for a long time, and he felt lucid and in control. "I'm frightened too," he admitted softly. "It scares me to know they're out there, and they'll be coming for us, but I'm going to do whatever I can to keep you safe."

"The first thing we need to do is disappear, leaving behind who we were and becoming someone else," said Malcolm matter-of-factly.

Her lower lip wobbled, and tears flooded her eyes. "What about my parents?"

"They're better off believing you're dead, Gillian," said Malcolm, but not unkindly. "It's safer for them if they don't know anything other than that."

After a moment, she nodded before falling into a thoughtful silence.

Wyatt held her even closer, letting a purr of contentment escape his mouth. Circumstances weren't ideal, but the most important thing was they were together, and they were both safe, at least for now. "I love you, Gillian, and I'm sorry I put you through hell, both for the last eighteen months, and for leaving you earlier. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I see now the right thing could never involve being away from you, especially permanently. I'm not letting you go again."

With her own purr of satisfaction, she cuddled closer to him. "That suits me fine, since I didn't ask to be let go anyway. I'm going to miss my family, and our lives in Shifter Springs, but I understand the necessity of breaking cleanly and moving on." She sniffled, but offered him a brave smile that was almost convincing.

"We'll be okay."

She nodded, looking more confident this time. "I believe that with all my heart, Wyatt."

# Epilogue

Gillian took a deep breath for courage as she joined Wyatt on the sand. They were in one of Malcolm's safe houses, having felt the need to spend time as just the two of them for a while. She thought they were still in Central America, though they might have been edging toward South America. She wasn't entirely certain of the destination or the coordinates, since she hadn't been the one to drive.

She had left the driving to Wyatt, having been too tired to do so. She'd been exhausted for several days, and now she knew why. She'd found the device that gave her the answer in the well-stocked bathroom. Malcolm really seemed to have thought of everything. Ironically enough, he kept the boxes of tests next to a stash of condoms.

She'd giggled at the idea, which had relieved some of her tension as she waited for the test to give her an answer. Deep down, she'd already known it was going to be positive though. Her period was regular and had been for years, and now that she was four days late, and feeling tired, nauseated, and with sore breasts, it wasn't exactly a shock to see two pink lines. She wondered how Wyatt was going to take it though.

He was sprawled on the sand in a sand chair, legs stretched out before him and looking relaxed. It was the most peaceful she'd seen him in a long time, though he was generally more at peace these days, since the confrontation at the base, when he had managed to control his bear. He'd faced his greatest fear, finding it unfounded, and was far more like the old Wyatt than he used to be. There were still rough times and nightmares, of course. She anticipated those would haunt him for the rest of his life, but he was with her, and he was making no effort to escape now.

She sank down presumptuously on his lap, knowing he wouldn't care. Especially when he realized she was wearing nothing more than a swimsuit cover-up—and the swimsuit was still drying in the bathroom. She had every intention of telling him right away, but her intentions changed as his mouth drifted down her neck, seeking out all the spots that sent tingles shooting up her spine. With a groan, she shifted her position so she was straddling his lap instead of sitting with her back to his stomach. She put her arms around his neck, taking his mouth in a hungry kiss. When they broke apart a moment later, both breathing heavily, she said "I love your mouth. I love your taste."

He groaned. "I love everything about you. You're perfect for me, Gillian."

Though he said such things frequently now, it still sent a shiver of pleasure through her to hear them each time he verbalized how he felt. It had gone a long way toward soothing the hurt she'd carried during their eighteen-month separation, even though she'd understood the reasons for it. It still hadn't kept the rejection from eating at her, scarring her more deeply than she'd realized, as evidenced by how much even a small admission of the depth of his feelings healed her.

He let out a hum of satisfaction when he realized she was completely bare under the cover-up, his hands moving between her thighs to stroke her clit. "I love this part in particular." His hand moved lower, his fingers surging inside her. "Or maybe this part. I don't think I have a favorite."

She tossed back her head, pressing downward against his hand. "That's my favorite part, at least when you do that." Reaching between them, she dipped her hand into his board shorts, pulling out his cock to stroke the length of him. He was already hard for her, the tip of his cock leaking pre-cum to smooth her way. No wonder she was pregnant, since they rarely bothered with condoms. It was as though they had both been deliberately seeking this goal, but hadn't spoken of it yet.

"I take it you're feeling better?" As he asked, he pushed aside the shoulder of her cover-up to nip her there. It was the place where he'd first marked her with his mating bite that night they had returned from Fort Glacier.

She yelped, but then moaned in pleasure as he craned his neck to move his head lower, his mouth engulfing her nipple through the cloth covering it. She hissed in a combination of pleasure and pain as he lightly trailed his tongue over the tip of the taut bud. "Ow, that feels good."

He laughed against her. "That's a strange combination," he said, pulling away just enough to speak, and causing his lips to brush against her breast with every word.

She shivered at the sensation. "That's how it feels."

With a slight growl of possessiveness, he shifted position, slouching down more in the chair and lifting her higher to better align their pelvises. "And I love how this feels." As he spoke, he sank inside her, until every inch of his erection had filled her.

Her sheath clung to him, just like always, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders as she started to ride him. "I came out to tell you something," she said as she tossed back her head, squeezing her channel rhythmically around him while she bounced up and down.

"What's that?" He sounded breathless as he surged upward, his hands locked on her hips to keep her against him as he thrust rapidly inside her.

"I'm..." She trailed off, suddenly uncertain about the admission. A lot of the future was still unsettled, and she was fearful of what a baby could mean for both of them, even though she was ecstatic about the idea as well.

"Yeah?" He prompted when her silence lengthened, though he didn't break pace on his thrusts, adding in the swirl of his hips to further stimulate her already-twitching pussy.

She surrendered to orgasm, feeling her thick cream coat him a second before his cock stiffened inside her, and he filled her with jets of his release. With an exhausted sigh, she laid her head against his shoulder, averting her face from his as bravery deserted her. "I'm pregnant."

To her surprise, he started chuckling softly. "I know."

In her shock, she got over her shyness and hesitation to lift her head, looking at him. "What do you mean, you know? I just found out for sure myself."

"Your pheromones smell different." He shrugged. "Even if I weren't a bear-shifter, I'd know. You've been a bit moody, tired, and three out of the last four mornings, you've thrown up before feeling great afterward. We hardly ever use protection, and I'll admit this is what I wanted from the day I turned myself in at the military base. The idea of you with our child somewhere on a beach just like this was the image I used to get through the uncertainty of being in that prison for days, left there to rot and never knowing when they'd come to collect me, either for execution or further experimentation. I'm thrilled about our baby."

She let out a soft sigh of contentment, snuggling against him once more even as she bit her lower lip. "Is it safe to have a baby?"

He hesitated for a moment, and he didn't offer platitudes. "The future's uncertain. I don't know if or when they'll catch up with us again, and I'm certain they wouldn't let a little thing like our baby's age deter them from completely wiping away all evidence. But I know you and I will fight like hell to protect our children, and while we have each other, we have to live, not just be alive. If we both want the baby, and I think we do, then we need to focus on that."

She nodded. "I want the baby very much."

He nodded. "Then we'll expect the worst, but hope for the best. I don't want to think about the future that might await us. I just want to be with you here, in the present, and let the future take care of itself." He shifted her slightly so he could put his hand on her lower abdomen. "Today belongs to you, me, and him."

"Or her," she teased as she gracefully accepted his statement about the future. He couldn't know what awaited them, but at least they'd be together to face it.

"Or her," he agreed amicably. "As long as the baby's healthy and happy, that's all that matters."

He basically turned her into a pile of melting goo with those words, and she allowed the rest of the tension to fade from her body. "Do you have any idea how much I love you, Wyatt Stone?"

"Not as much as I love you."

She rolled her eyes. "I love you more."

He chuckled, seemingly never growing tired of the old pseudo-argument. "Let's call it a draw and celebrate how much we love each other."

She tilted her head, looking up at him, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?" Her body was already humming with sensual energy as she envisioned all the things he might say.

"Let's get married as soon as possible."

She jerked in surprise, not having anticipated those words at all. "Seriously? Do you mean it?"

He grinned at her. "You've been my fiancée since we were eighteen. Almost ten years later, I think it's time you made an honest man out of me before I have a baby out of wedlock."

She giggled, even as she rolled her eyes. "When you put it like that, how can I fail to do the right thing?"

He threaded his hand in the back of her hair, holding her head steady as his mouth settled over hers in a slow, tender kiss. "I think I finally have everything right myself. I spent so long going in the wrong direction, but I'm finally where I belong. With you and our baby. I'll never leave you again."

With a sigh, she melted against him, taking comfort in the sincerity of his words and clinging to them. She was absolutely certain he meant every word, and there was no need to confirm she felt the same. He already knew that. There was no point in dragging up the past if they were going to put focus on living in the present and hoping for the best from the future. There was no space for regrets or recriminations when they had so many reasons to celebrate, and so much love between them.

Find the rest of the completed series:

Relentless (Wounded Warriors #2)

<https://books2read.com/u/mgrOnX>

* * *

Marked (Wounded Warriors #3)

<https://books2read.com/u/3L9Oke>

* * *

Justice (Wounded Warriors #4)

<https://books2read.com/u/4Awerk>

# Bonus Excerpt of Relentless (WW #2)

Devon approached the small house warily, though that was a generous descriptor. "Shack" would have been a better adjective to describe the small dwelling where Benjamin's cousin had directed him. It was a fair hike up the mountains, and the place looked uninhabited. It would be a perfect hideout if Benjamin had taken up residence there.

He stayed low and utilized cover as much as possible while approaching the shack. As he drew nearer, he inhaled deeply, relying on his tiger's senses to give him an idea of what he'd find inside.

His heart skipped a beat when he detected Benjamin's pheromone signature. It had been months since he'd smelled his friend's unique scent, but it seemed fresh. He was optimistic about finding his friend still alive. Maybe Benjamin had managed to evade the government so far as well, but hadn't had a way to intercept the radio messages Malcolm was sending daily on rotating frequencies.

If he'd had to flee somewhere and left behind his military-issued radio, modified with some security measures by their encryptions expert, Joanna, he wouldn't have been able to maintain contact. Or perhaps he simply hadn't been in a position to reach Sanctuary or one of the other safe houses. Or perhaps, being on the hermit side anyway, Benjamin had chosen to stay holed up in the shack in the Black Hills on the border of the Standing Rock Reservation.

Though reassured by the presence of Benjamin's pheromones, he still moved cautiously, because there was someone else around as well. The presence smelled strictly human, judging by the pheromones, and they stank with the bitter stench of fear. That kept him on his guard, though he hadn't been inclined to drop it even with tentative confirmation that Benjamin was alive.

He reached the back door of the shack, frowning when he saw the wood shattered inward, as though hit with a heavy object or a forceful kick. He clutched the gun he'd taken from his holster long before approaching the cabin as he hovered at the ruined doorway, ears straining to hear sounds a normal human couldn't detect. The shack was small, but he still searched all the nooks and crannies as he focused on the environment around him.

There was harsh, raspy breathing, along with an occasional hitch that sounded feminine, as though a human woman was struggling not to cry. Devon grimaced when his nose twitched as he breathed deeply, detecting the fading pheromone signature of one of the super soldiers. If there was one, there had to be more, because he doubted they had come to the cabin alone.

Still on guard, he moved cautiously into the shack, following the sound of breathing. He doubted a human would have been able to perceive faint noises, but his tiger had no trouble detecting them.

The shack was as small on the inside as it appeared to be on the outside, and it didn't take much to find Benjamin's body. His friend looked like he'd put up a hell of a fight, but he was clearly dead, and recently. Devon quickly realized that the sound of the breathing was coming from _beneath_ Benjamin. There must be a trapdoor under him.

With a mental apology to his friend, he rolled Benjamin's corpse out of the way so he could open the trapdoor. It was pitch-black inside the room, but his tiger's vision had no trouble detecting the human form crouched there in the small root cellar. "Come out of there." He kept his voice stern, allowing no option for dissent. It was the same voice he'd used on insurgents when stationed in Afghanistan. The authority carried through naturally.

She jerked, and a whimper escaped her, but she stood up slowly. "Please don't hurt me."

Acting instinctively, he reached down a hand to help her out of the root cellar, since there appeared to be no steps. She took it, though she seemed reluctant, and as soon as he had her on the main level of the shack, she flinched away from him. "I don't know anything. Just let me go."

He frowned at her. "I'm not going to hurt you. What's going on here?"

Her eyes widened suddenly, and her pheromone signature altered just enough to reveal a hint of excitement. "You're Bone."

He blinked, not having heard the call sign since he'd left the military almost two years ago. As a mutual, unspoken agreement, he and his former teammates, now comrades-in-arms in a different way, had dropped their use as they left the military behind. He scowled at her. "How do you know that name?"

Her gaze strayed toward Benjamin for a moment, and her expression revealed her sadness. "I've been putting together the pieces, and I know some of what the government has done to your team. Of course you're in the files."

"What files?"

She straightened her shoulders. "Your military records. I hacked them—yours and everyone else's—when I went looking for answers about what happened to Joanna."

He stiffened slightly at the name, pushing back the swell of grief. Joanna was one of the three team members who had died at the hands of the government black ops group trying to stifle evidence of Project Shift. "You knew Joanna?"

"She was my mom's friend, and she used to babysit me when I was a kid."

He examined her for a moment at the words. She had creamy brown skin, large dark eyes, and a head full of tiny braids. He couldn't think what they were called offhand, but he recognized the style. She was on the short side, with generous curves, and a fresh face that suggested she hadn't known much tragedy in her life. To his way of thinking, she was practically still a kid. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

She was older than she looked. "Do you know what happened to Benjamin?"

She nodded. "I was meeting with him tonight. I've been chatting with Twitch online after I tracked him down. He was surprised I was able to find his online presence. He'd done a really good job of scrubbing it, but I'd picked up the threads, and I made contact. We were supposed to go over what he knew and what I knew, but they came before we got a chance."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "I assume they found him the same way I did, which was via the small electronic clues he left in his wake. He hid me in the root cellar, though he warned me they might still detect my presence. Either they didn't, or they didn't bother with me because I'm human. I'm guessing they were too focused on him to realize I was there, because otherwise they would've eliminated me as a loose end."

"They probably didn't identify you as a target. They were likely programed simply to eliminate Benjamin and anyone who posed a challenge to that mission."

Her eyes were huge, and she stifled a sob with her hand before speaking. "He sacrificed himself to save me."

# Author Bio

Aurelia Skye is the pen name _USA Today_ bestselling author Kit Tunstall uses when writing science fiction and paranormal romances. It's simply a way to separate the myriad types of stories she writes so readers know what to expect with each "author." Kit lives in Idaho with her husband and two sons.

**If you enjoyed this story and would like to receive notifications of new releases or access bonus chapters for your favorite books, please join my** Mailing List **. You'll also receive six books just for joining. If you prefer to receive notifications for just one, or a few, of Kit's pen names, you'll have the option to select which lists to subscribe to at signup.**

# Written In The Stars (Dazon Agenda #1)
# SciFi Romance Series Starters Bundle

## Aurelia Skye

### Contents

Join Juno Wells' New Release List!

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Bonus Excerpt of Alien's Babies (DA #2)

About Aurelia

About Juno
© 2015 Juno Wells

All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author's imagination.

Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  Created with Vellum

# Join Juno Wells' New Release List!

**JOIN JUNO WELLS' NEW RELEASE LIST!** Click on this link (or copy and paste it into your browser): <http://eepurl.com/bnMJL5>

Amourisa Press and Kit Tunstall, writing as Aurelia Skye, reserve all rights to WRITTEN IN THE STARS. This work may not be shared or reproduced in any fashion without permission of the publisher and/or authors. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

© Kit Tunstall, 2015

Cover Images: Depositphotos.com/

Edited by J.C.

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# Blurb

Jada Washington suffers from a rare disease that has crippled her body and left her homebound. She copes by finding strength and support among the friends she's made on an online forum for those afflicted by the disease. When her friends start to go missing, she knows someone is taking them. Her investigation draws the attention of a handsome alien inquisitor sent by his home world to investigate the disappearances. As they unravel the reason for the abductions, she finds it almost impossible to disbelieve Ryland Breese's claim that she's his mate. She might not believe in soulmates, but she can't deny she's attracted to the sexy golden alien. One of his kind is stealing Earth women, but he's stealing her heart.

# Chapter One

Jessminda42b9 was missing.

Jada had tried to be patient, but she was no longer clinging to the hope that her friend was busy doing something else. Like the other twelve women who had disappeared from the forum she ran, Jessminda had simply stopped posting.

At first, Jada hadn't realized there were disappearances. It wasn't completely uncommon for people to stop posting, or to go long stretches of time in between, even for the close-knit Internet community that composed the forum for sufferers of Kaiser's Syndrome.

It wasn't until the fourth member had dropped out of contact that Jada noticed their members were slowly disappearing. She had phone numbers for some of the missing women, and she had tried to call them all as the weeks had passed. Since they were Internet friends, she didn't always have a way to reach them outside of email or the phone number for some, even though she was the administrator of the forum, but she had continued to send emails every few days that went unanswered.

It was completely unlike the women, most of whom had been her friends since she'd established the forum eight years ago. They had all joined within a few months of her setting up the website for Kaiser's Syndrome sufferers after receiving her own diagnosis. It had been one of the ways she had coped, and as her mobility had dwindled, and her confinement at home had expanded, the forum had become one of the most important parts of her life.

She was deeply alarmed that twelve of her friends had fallen out of contact within the last two months, but Jessminda was particularly upsetting, because they were close friends. They had discovered within a few months of starting to chat that they lived in the same city, so whenever practical, they got together in person. With both of them confined to a wheelchair, it didn't happen as frequently as either would have liked, but it was typical for them to see each other at least once a month.

She hadn't heard from Jessminda for five days now, including emails and phone calls. She had called Jessminda's brother, who often stopped to check in on her, and when he had finally called her back less than thirty minutes ago, it had been with the disquieting news that his sister wasn't home. She usually informed him if she was going somewhere, just to be on the safe side.

Pradheep had also told her the neighbors hadn't seen Jessminda come or go in the last few days. Even in a wheelchair, her friend was a dynamo, often wheeling around the apartment complex or sitting out by the pool in the summertime. It wasn't like her to stay locked up in her apartment for days on end. She wasn't like Jada.

She'd tried notifying the police, but they had dismissed her concerns, taking the view she couldn't possibly be concerned about people not checking in on an online forum. The detective she had spoken with had been slightly rude about the whole thing, as though he considered her a waste of his time.

That meant she'd find no help with the authorities, so the only tool at her disposal was to slip into the underbelly of the world wide web and see what she could dig up. She made herself comfortable, slipped on compression gloves to protect her fragile wrists and finger joints, and began to finesse her way inside databases that were encrypted and technically supposed to be closed to her.

As she made her way around, starting with Internet providers and working outward after learning the identity of each woman who had gone missing over the past two months, she was temporarily amused at her own skills and familiarity with this side of life. Before she had gotten sick and received the unexpected diagnosis of Kaiser's Syndrome, she'd barely used a computer at all, except for work. She'd known how to copy and paste and create new documents, but had no knowledge of how the processes worked or the code that kept everything flowing.

Once she had displayed symptoms, they had moved quickly, and she'd been diagnosed with rapid progression less than a year after the first diagnosis. She had ended up in a wheelchair within two years, and it had changed her life. She stayed home most of the time now, and she had discovered she didn't mind it. The social creature she had been before was the one that felt like the façade that had finally fallen away, rather than her feeling like she was retreating into a shell and hiding from the world.

With all the free time on her hands, and looking for some way to use it, since she could no longer work as a paralegal at the busy law firm where she had been employed, she had learned all kinds of useful information. That had somehow led to her finding her way into hacking, almost by accident.

There was something fun and pleasing about solving the mysteries and breaking the code, and there was an illicit thrill that went with looking through all the deepest, darkest places of the Internet that had drawn her. She wasn't the best cracker around, but she was pretty good, and she had learned it all easily.

Two hours later, she leaned back in her wheelchair and pulled her hands from the keyboard, taking a break for a moment as she absorbed everything she had learned.

While it was still fresh in her mind, she put her hands back to the keyboard and pulled open her blog. It was an unusual posting for her, since she was far more likely to write about the daily challenges of living with Kaiser's Syndrome, or share her recipes and cooking, which was another hobby of hers.

She didn't touch on hacking or conspiracy theories even in a casual way usually, but her blog seemed like the best venue at the moment. The authorities wouldn't take her seriously, and she couldn't reveal her source of information to any recognized media establishment. She would have to act as a citizen journalist and hope enough people became interested in the topic to force the authorities to investigate.

* * *

_This is a different blog post for me, everyone. As you know, if you're a reader of my blog, I've run a forum for Kaiser's Syndrome victims the last eight years. There are only about eighty-five members, so when they started to disappear, I took notice. These are the kind of women who don't just stop talking to us one day and drop off the face of the earth. For a lot of us, we're as close as family._

_I called the local police, but Detective Thorne dismissed my concerns, so I had to become more creative. I've discovered it's not just my friends going missing. My source revealed there are almost four hundred active cases of missing women with Kaiser's Syndrome at the moment worldwide._

_I assume you're not new to my blog, and you know what Kaiser's Syndrome is. Just to be on the safe side, let me give you a quick refresher course. Kaiser's Syndrome is a genetic condition caused by inheriting a tiny fragment of extra DNA on the ninth chromosome. It only causes symptoms in women and is passed from mother to daughter, but it's only active if the father is also a carrier._

_It was only recently discovered, and doctors don't know everything about it. Dr. Hans Kaiser was the first to label and identify it. His patients who had it suffered from the same shared genetic anomalies, including an extremely rare blood type identified as AO-negative. That's due to the genetic mutation, and the link is still unexplained._

_Also unexplained is why Kaiser's Syndrome affects mostly women of African or Indian descent. Eighty percent of women who have Kaiser's Syndrome are in those two nationalities. Men can receive the gene from their mother, but they're only ever carriers. There hasn't been nearly enough testing to determine why that is, or if it's more prevalent among other races of men, or also mostly confined to Indians and Africans._

_So the question becomes, what happened to four hundred women with a disease that progressively affects their neurological and musculature system, rendering us disabled and virtually immobile as the disease progresses? Is there a connection? It's true that people go missing every day. According to the National Crime Information Center's website, there are more than six hundred thousand open missing persons cases right now._

_Am I simply seeing a coincidence? Am I trying to generate a link where none exists? Or is there someone targeting women with Kaiser's Syndrome for some reason? I could think of a few theories as to why, and the most predominant one would be medical experimentation, but that makes little sense. I'm certain many of us would volunteer for experimentation if we could get the funding and the attention necessary to make Kaiser's Syndrome a known and easily recognizable disease with public urgency for a cure._

_It's true pharmaceutical companies are motivated by profit, and they've certainly done underhanded or shady things in the past, but it seems beyond the norm even in that industry to actually kidnap people on whom to experiment. So what is the explanation?_

_I eagerly await any theories, and I encourage you to share this post. Only through public demand will authorities take action. Right now, disappearances are scattered over multiple jurisdictions worldwide, and I'm not even certain anyone has made the connection besides myself. Help me to change that, loyal readers._

* * *

After finishing the post, she sat back as a wave of exhaustion swept through her. She had certainly depleted all her energy today, and suddenly all she wanted to do was go to bed and sleep for a thousand years. Knowing it would be a while before anything started happening with the blog post, and assuming she was being wildly optimistic that any public official would act on the information contained therein anyway, she decided to have an early night.

Concern for her missing friends filled her mind, but it was no match for the pure physical exhaustion in her ravaged and withered body. She hated being at the mercy of the disease, which trapped her in a useless body and zapped all her energy. As she drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help indulging in a slight fantasy, one in which her friends and the other women with Kaiser's Syndrome were taken for a noble purpose, one that resulted in a cure for everyone. She wasn't normally so Pollyannaish, but on the edge of sleep, she indulged the optimistic thought until unconsciousness swept over her.

# Chapter Two

It had been almost a week since her blog post, and while Jada certainly hadn't forgotten about it, it had slipped to the back of her mind in a way. There had been somewhat of a flurry in the first few days, and it had received the most hits of any of her blog posts ever, along with countless retweets on Twitter and shares on Facebook, but all the excitement and buzz generated from the article had done nothing to interest the authorities.

Jada continued trying to contact her friends, and she grew more alarmed as two others stopped posting on the forum and didn't respond to their emails any longer. She didn't have phone numbers for those women, so she had no other way to contact them, but her concern grew.

On the forum, the women were discussing ways to protect themselves, and Jada wished she had a gun like some of the ladies. It had always seemed like an unnecessary device before, since she lived in an urban area with police that responded quickly, but now that they weren't responding at all, she was feeling weak and terrified, which pissed her off. She had fought long and hard for her independence, and she resented that whatever was happening could make her feel frightened to even open her door long enough to check her mail or arrange to take the bus to the market.

Acting from that apprehension, she was cautious that afternoon when her doorbell rang. It could be her latest delivery from Amazon or a neighbor. Perhaps it was even her stepsister, though that seemed unlikely since Erica was firmly immersed in her own world and only stopped by to visit her two or three times a year despite living within fifty miles.

Grasping the poker from the fireplace, she moved her electric chair to the door, peeking out through the peephole that had been lowered and modified so she could see it comfortably from her chair. A strange man stood on the other side. She couldn't see all of him, but he appeared a bit bland in his dark suit. "Who is it?" she asked through the door.

"Are you Jada Washington, author of _Jada's Blog_?"

Jada's stomach tightened with dread that she had no logical reason to feel. The unknown was scary enough, and suspecting she was being targeted—well, her and every other woman with Kaiser's Syndrome—was plenty of reason to be cautious and wary. "You didn't answer my question."

"My name is Ryland Breese, and I'm here to investigate the disappearances of the women you mentioned in your blog."

"Show me your badge."

He hesitated. "I don't have a badge," he said softly.

She shook her head, a harsh laugh escaping her. "Do you really think I'm going to let you in without a badge? I don't know who you are."

Without awaiting a reply, she backed away from the door before turning her chair to face it a few feet away. She was hoping he had gone away, but when he knocked again, she gritted her teeth.

"Please, Ms. Washington, I only want a few moments of your time."

"Or maybe you want to kidnap me and make me disappear like my friends. Go away now before I call the police."

There was silence, and it lengthened to the point where she was starting to feel optimistic that the person on the other side of the door had given up and chosen to go away. If he was really investigating the disappearances, he would produce a warrant or a badge before he got into her home. If he had other, more nefarious plans, at least she wouldn't make it easy on him by opening her door and inviting him in for sweet tea and abduction.

Just as she had taken a deep breath of relief, the door started to glow with a golden light that emanated under the door sill and around the cracks. She watched with openmouthed shock as the locks unlocked themselves, all unlocking in a neat and orderly fashion one after the other. As a final step, the chain fell out of the plate before dropping to the wall. She lifted her poker with abject terror as the door slowly opened, and the bland man stepped inside.

"What are you doing? Get out of my house."

He ignored her, pausing to close and lock her door again, doing so by placing a palm against the door. After she was locked in with him, he took a couple of steps toward her before pausing and holding up his hands. "Please, Jada, I mean you no harm."

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

He sighed, and then the air around him seemed to twitch and vibrate for a moment. It was like watching blurred pay-per-view at fast-forward. One second, he was the nondescript man, and the next, he was far taller, far more imposing, and anything but bland. His skin was brown, perhaps even a few shades lighter than her own, but with golden luminescence that was beautiful and hypnotic at the same time. He had tawny-brown eyes with that same gold shine to them, and his features were strong. While he wasn't classically handsome, he was certainly compelling to look at.

He'd also gotten taller and far broader in the shoulders, which emphasized his narrow waist and flat stomach. The dark suit had morphed into a simple black garment that covered him from neck to ankle.

She sagged in her electric wheelchair, shaking her head as she tried to deny what she was seeing; what she had just seen. "What's going on?"

He bowed his head slightly, and it appeared to be a gesture of respect. "As I said, I'm Ryland Breese of the Dazon Empire. I'm an inquisitor, which is akin to an earthling detective. Your blog post caught my attention. You have similar occurrences noted that match events occurring in an investigation by my home world. I've come to Earth to find the answer to where your friends have disappeared to."

She shook her head, gripping the poker even tighter between both hands. "I don't buy it. Why would some alien dude care about a bunch of missing Earth women?"

She wanted to say he arched a brow, but she realized he had no eyebrows. He just had a thick mane of golden brown hair that flowed from his forehead down to the back of his neck, though there was no hair on the sides of his head. She didn't know if that was a deliberate styling choice, or if perhaps they didn't grow hair there.

Or perhaps she was going crazy by believing this was actually an alien. It seemed far more likely it was someone pretending to be an alien, simply because that was what logic suggested. However, if this was a pretense, the person had certainly done a good job of presenting an alien appearance, and how had they managed that trick with her door?

"May I sit down, Jada?"

She almost snapped at him, wanting to demand to know when they had become familiar enough to be on a first-name basis, but if he really was an alien, it seemed like the kind of lapse in etiquette she should just let slide. Still clinging fiercely to her poker, she waved a hand toward the recliner in her living room. She had gotten rid of all the other furniture, because it impeded the path of her chair, and visitors were infrequent. "Have a seat, Mr. Alien."

"Ryland Breese," he said for the third time as he walked past her, nodding his head again in that same fashion that suggested it was a show of respect. He sat down on her lounger, and though it was cushiony and overstuffed, he looked far too big for it. It was like an adult trying to squeeze into a child's recliner.

Any urge she had to laugh faded when she met his golden-brown eyes again. There was genuine concern reflected there, and also what looked like...guilt? She wasn't certain. If he was an alien, could he even feel guilt? She wheeled herself a bit closer, but certainly not within easy grabbing range, and set the poker across the arms of her wheelchair in a decisive fashion, clasping the metal rod in both hands as she stared at him. "Explain to me why any aliens would care about earthlings?"

"May I share a little of the history of our empire with you?" At her nod, he said, "The Dazon Empire is slowly dying out. Three generations ago, we were at war with an enemy who unleashed a biological weapon upon us. We managed to defeat the enemy, but it was only as the war came to an end that we started to see the effects of the biological weapon.

"The primary effect it had was to render Dazon females sterile. Some women were still getting pregnant, but far fewer than we needed to keep our species alive."

She made a small sound of distress on behalf of the women, finding sympathy for them even if this was all some sort of elaborate hoax, or the women didn't even exist. She could empathize, having had to give up her dreams of motherhood upon realizing she had Kaiser's Syndrome.

She couldn't risk passing on the disease, and with rapid progression, she hadn't been in a proper state of health to get pregnant anyway, even if there had been a prospective father in the picture at that point. Her fiancé had been long gone, disappearing shortly after her diagnosis and before things even got really bad. Barry never would have made it through seeing her confined to a wheelchair and having to adapt to that kind of life.

"Our scientists have done what they can, and some genetic manipulation is possible, but now when there's a successful and healthy pregnancy, eighty percent of the time it results in a male child. We're not certain if that's a direct side effect of the biological weapon, and it was designed to work away, or if it's a result of the genetic manipulation our scientists use, and the fact that males seem to be immune to the effects of the biological weapon."

"So you have very few women who can get pregnant, and when they do, four out of five babies born are male?"

Ryland Breese nodded again. "Yes, that's exactly right."

She frowned at him. "It sounds like a terrible problem for your Empire, but I still don't see the connection with my missing friends."

He nodded. "For the past generation, we've been desperately searching for a genetic match among other species, hoping to find women who could bear Dazon young before we're completely extinct. It's been slow going, and politics hamper how to proceed should we find a compatible species. There is debate between simply snatching the women and forcing them to bear our young, or attempting to solicit their compliance with material things, or perhaps treaties and information exchanges with the governments of the planet involved."

"And have you reached a consensus?"

He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "The only resolution our General Council has fully embraced is the women must be compliant and consenting. We might be on the verge of extinction, but that doesn't justify kidnapping a race of sentient beings to save our own. We don't have a firm plan in mind, and there's an outspoken minority that protests this. The High Council has never given their official position, but it's well known they align with the minority."

Her head was starting to hurt. It was simply from the overload of information and trying to absorb the fact that maybe, just maybe, this guy was a legitimate alien and not some actor or hoax. "What... Do you think Earth women are compatible?"

Ryland shrugged. "I'm not certain. I'm not tasked with the scientific investigation into finding a compatible species. I know Earth women have been tested, but it's my understanding there was no clear outcome. However, the scientist in charge went on hiatus two months ago, as did a small number of his core team. I've been unable to find any trace of Jorvak Ha or the others. It's my supposition that perhaps Dr. Ha found a link between our species' genetics and a small subset of your species' genetics."

She let out a ragged exhale. "You're going on the assumption that women with Kaiser's Syndrome are genetically compatible with Dazon men?" The idea of being intimately...compatible with the golden alien squished into her recliner was distracting and threatened to derail her from the conversation as erotic images flickered through her mind. Forcing her attention back to him when he nodded, she asked, "And what was Jorvak Ha's position on how to handle finding a compatible species?"

His expression closed, and his lips tightened as he radiated evident anger. "Dr. Ha firmly believes we should take the women with or without their consent and use their genetic material as needed."

Her head spun, and she slumped even further in her chair. "Do you think my friends have been abducted by aliens?" She let out a laugh, but it held a slight edge of hysteria. "I want to say that sounds crazy, but it's actually the most logical theory I've heard or come up with myself since I started noticing their disappearances. Do you know where my friends are, and where the other women have been taken?"

"No, not yet, but I hope to figure that out with your assistance, Jada."

She blinked at him, shocked she was in this position. Was she really having a chat with some intergalactic detective-type who was investigating missing persons cases of galactic proportion? Were her friends really being held as some sort of breeders for a desperate race of aliens on the verge of extinction? It truly was no crazier than some of the other theories she had come up with or had been suggested on her blog. With a helpless shrug, she said, "I'll help however I can, but I'm not going to be very useful to you in this chair, Mr. Breese."

"Call me Ryland, Jada. And if you permit me to do so, I can solve that problem."

# Chapter Three

She stared at herself in the mirror in disbelief. It had taken some persuading on his part to convince her to accept an injection from an alien device, especially when he had explained it held nanobots. They would quickly adapt to her human genetics and restore her body to a state of perfect health. They wouldn't be able to remove Kaiser's Syndrome, because they couldn't reprogram her DNA or remove the fragment of the ninth chromosome that shouldn't be there, but they would keep her body in a healthy balance, and she would no longer be confined to the chair.

With that promise, she had been willing to try anything, and now, less than an hour later, she stood in front of her mirror and admired herself.

She'd always been on the curvy side, and the last eight years being ill, with six of those confined to a wheelchair, had added some extra pounds despite regular physical therapy. Now, she was in the best shape of her life, better than she'd ever been. She still had soft curves and a rounded tummy, but she could see the biceps flex under the skin when she moved her arms, and she could feel the rock hardness of her abs beneath the soft layer of flesh.

He knocked on the door, interrupting her visual inspection of her changed body, calling, "Are you all right, Jada?"

"Yes, I'm coming." She cleared her throat and turned her attention to rummaging in her closet again, barely tearing herself away from the entrancing sight of her body in the mirror. Her skin was gleaming and perfectly mocha-brown, with no blemishes at all. The mole on her shoulder was gone, as was scar on her knee from the time she had fallen off her bike in third grade.

Even her hair was shiny and flowing, the kinky curls looking as though they'd had a fresh salon treatment. She felt beautiful and amazing, and that brought a load of guilt as she hastily slid on a dress that was now too large before walking—walking, how good that felt—out of the closet and across her bedroom floor on bare feet.

She experienced guilt that her friends were still in various stages of poor health when there was technology to treat them all. She opened the door and took a deep breath before stepping out to join her new alien partner in crime fighting. If that wasn't the strangest turn of events of the day, her physical transformation certainly vied for first.

"This is amazing," she said. "I feel wonderful. I feel better than I ever have in my life, even when I was in my late teens and early twenties and full of energy, before I started getting sick. Thank you for this, Ryland Breese."

"Just Ryland, please." He inclined his head. "I'm happy to see the nanobots were able to communicate with your genetics. It also confirms my theory that women with Kaiser's Syndrome are compatible with Dazon males. Which means..."

"My missing friends and all the other women are probably somewhere at the mercy of your rogue scientist."

He nodded, looking regretful.

"Will he have cured them? If not, can you cure everyone?"

"It's not a cure," he reminded in a gentle tone. Ryland held up a hand, such a human gesture, to indicate he needed her to pause. "I'll assist your friends how I can. I suspect our government will negotiate with your government to trade nanotechnology to keep Kaiser's Syndrome and other illnesses in check in exchange for Earth's government setting up a screening program of women willing to help produce offspring for the Dazon.

"To answer your other question, I have no idea if Dr. Ha would have treated the women, or if he would have left them in a weakened state to make it easier to manipulate them."

Her heart stuttered at the thought, and she took a deep breath in a vain effort to ward off tears that prickled her eyes. "What's he doing to them? Has he been...forcing them and impregnating them?"

Again, Ryland shrugged. "From a logical perspective, the easiest thing to do is accelerate egg production by stimulating the women to produce a larger-than-usual number of eggs. Those would be harvested, fertilized with Dazon sperm, and then grown in an exo-womb. However, I'm uncertain about Dr. Ha, since his ethics are clearly degraded, and he has no respect for the fact that your women are sentient beings with the right to choose for themselves."

His words offered no comfort, but she appreciated the blunt honesty more than she would have a soothing platitude. She stood awkwardly in front of him, finding his height still impressive even now when she was back on her feet and restored to her normal five-seven. Unable to resist the impulse, she reached out and squeezed his hand. "Thank you so much for this, Ryland."

He stiffened lightly at her touch, but he didn't shrug her off. For a moment, she feared she had breached some Dazon etiquette by touching him, and she should regret the impulsive gesture. Instead, her nerve endings sang with sensation. She hadn't experienced such an intense and immediate physical reaction in at least eight years, and probably longer. If ever.

His tawny-gold eyes darkened slightly, and she was certain his breathing pattern changed, but she didn't know what any of that meant. In a human male, they would have been signs of arousal, but she had no way of knowing with an alien.

Regretfully, she forced herself to release him and break the flood of sensation coursing into her. She wondered if it was an actual chemical reaction from touching him, or if it was simply pheromones and attraction. She hugged herself again, tilting her head sideways as she looked up at him. A question suddenly occurred to her. "Why me?"

Ryland frowned. "Why you what, Jada?"

"Why did you pick me to help you? If you needed a human liaison, wouldn't it have been better to pick someone in law enforcement, or even go through proper political channels? I'm no one, so why did you pick me?"

"You had put together enough of the pieces not to freak out—I believe that is the proper phrase—and scream hysterically at the idea of an alien in your house." His answer was perfectly logical, but something about the way he held his shoulders and the rapid movement of his eyes for a moment made her think he hadn't told her the truth, or at least the whole truth.

That raised little alarm bells in the back of her mind, and she cautioned herself to proceed carefully. For the first time since he had offered to heal her, she wondered if he might be affiliated with the people who were taking her friends. Were they sweeping them off their feet with the promise of a cure only to be locked away in some alien harem?

Dread filled her as she realized this could simply be a taste of being healthy. It could be that soon he would present her with the choice of becoming a broodmare in exchange for keeping the technology, or else losing it and reverting back to the wheelchair. Would they consider that honoring the right to choose?

It seemed like wild speculation, but she didn't know the alien in her living room, and she had no way to truly gauge his honesty or intentions. She had to admit it would be a powerful motivator, and if they threatened to take back the gift of health, she would probably be tempted to pump out as many alien babies as they required in order to keep the nanotechnology inside her.

"Now what?" she asked briskly. "How will we find my friends?"

He inclined his head, seeming to be deep in thought for a moment. "There appears to be a geographical pattern to the abductions. They're occurring in a random fashion in each city where they take place, but Dr. Ha and his group are moving steadily around the globe in a semi-predictable manner and have acquired all the women registered with Kaiser's Syndrome, except for those residing in your city. They started in the Far East and have gradually worked their way west since then. Before arriving here, they were in Toronto, where only one woman with Kaiser's Syndrome resides."

"Beautifuleyes_1251."

He arched a brow ridge, looking confused. "Is that an earth idiom?"

She allowed a small smile to blossom despite her distrust. "No, that's one of the members of my board. I bet it's the same person. Beautifuleyes_1251 stopped posting a couple of weeks ago, and she lives in Toronto. All I have for her is an email address, but I traced her through her I.P. number and discovered she's in Toronto. I was able to dig up a phone number for her, but she didn't answer. I hadn't found her cell phone number, and it was on my to-do list of things to accomplish this week."

He looked thoughtful. "There are some things I must check out, and I would suggest you continue your computer probing."

She tried to hide her disappointment, not liking the idea of being banished to the computer once more, though realistically that was her most useful skill, and it made sense to focus on her strengths. It wasn't as though she had any sort of law enforcement or investigative training, unlike the alien inquisitor. She inclined her head to accept his decision before asking, "What are you going to investigate?"

"I'm going to see if there's some kind of holding facility suitable for the doctor's needs. He must be storing the women he's kidnapped, and it seems unlikely he would leave them in a centralized location distant from his current location, especially if he's in the process of egg harvesting or insemination.

"I doubt he's had time to reach the stage of implanting blastocysts into exo-wombs, but if he's farther along than I think, he'll need a place capable of supporting a massive power source, and he'll have arranged some method of travel for the people he's kidnapped."

A pang of worry shot through her, and she couldn't explain it, nor the need to reach out and hold him again, once more grasping his hand with hers. She was startled by her display, but even more startled by the suddenly desperate way he clung to her hand, as though he had been denied physical affection for almost a decade as well.

It was a strange turn of events, but as they held hands and stared into each other's eyes, her heart was pounding in her ears, and a low thrum of desire throbbed through her. For a moment, it threatened to overwhelm her and rob her senses, urging her to leap on the alien and satisfy the surge of lust consuming her.

Remembering her friends, along with all the other women facing an unknown fate, allowed her to regain control and release his hand. "Be careful, Ryland Breese."

He inclined his head in that respectful fashion of his. "And you, Jada Washington. I shall return to you when I have more information."

She nodded and walked him to the door, this time unlocking it the old-fashioned way before locking it behind him. It might not keep out an alien inquisitor, but it would keep out all other manner of criminals and lowlifes plundering the city and perhaps protect her if she became the next target of the alien harvesters.

To her knowledge, there were four cases of Kaiser's Syndrome in the entire state of New York, and three of the women, besides her, lived in the city. The third woman was not a member of the forum, and Jada didn't even know her name. She'd simply seen her at the specialist's office, and they had briefly discussed their diagnoses, but that had been years ago.

The woman had been frail at the time, with dry straw-blonde hair barely touching her neck, and her withered body trapped in a wheelchair. At the time, Jada hadn't even set up her forum yet, and though the conversation they had shared had been informative, part of her had shied away from ever seeing the woman again. At that time, she had been too sharp a predictor of Jada's own future that awaited.

Now, she regretted that she hadn't exchanged some sort of contact information with the woman and had no idea how to begin tracking her down, unless she went through her doctor's office's electronic records. That felt like a gross invasion of privacy, but it seemed even worse to leave the unidentified woman vulnerable to alien hunters without trying to track her down or warn her. Jada wasn't even sure how she would begin to convince the other woman to take the threat seriously, but she had to at least look for her.

With that thought in mind, she started with the medical records database for her doctor's office. It took a long time to finesse her way through the safeguards, and she was both amused and impressed to find they had better security encryptions than the local police department.

Slowly, she was able to access the system, finally getting full permission to see all the data. She set up a search parameter to look for Kaiser's Syndrome, expecting to get one hit.

The woman she was looking for had been in fairly bad shape eight years ago, so she might have already passed away, but Jada hoped her doctor had converted his old records into electronic records. If so, there should at least be a mention of his former patient, who could still be his current patient.

To her surprise, there were two results for her search for Kaiser's Syndrome. The first file belonged to a Mary Catherine Jones, and she had recently seen Dr. Evans. Jada used her newly restored hands, no longer concerned about pulls and sprains from a simple task like typing or writing, to copy and paste Mary Catherine's contact information onto the computer's notepad. She didn't probe any deeper into the medical records than was necessary to confirm Mary Catherine was probably the person she was looking for.

Curious, she opened the second result, and concern flooded her as she read the case file. It was from a database for AmbaCorp, a medical research group that was connected with the same hospital as her doctor's practice, though located in a different building on the other side of the city. Ostensibly, the study was calling for participants with Kaiser's Syndrome to test an investigational medication meant to reduce excess joint elasticity. Considering Kaiser's Syndrome was barely a blip on the medical radar, it seemed unlikely that a study would be underway to test joint effects, when it was one of the milder side effects of Kaiser's Syndrome.

She dug deeper, looking at the address of the medical research building in question. To her surprise, it wasn't simply an office in the building, but rather took up an entire three-story office building on the outskirts of Brooklyn. Why would a medical research company need such a large facility?

She knew most medical research businesses kept at least a superficial layer between themselves and the manufacturers of the drugs they were testing. They were generally third-party contractors hired to carry out the tests designed by pharmaceutical companies, and she wasn't highly knowledgeable about it, but she'd never heard of people going directly to a lab facility where actual experiments were concurrently conducted in order to participate in a medical study—especially not for a joint medicine.

She made several notes on the notepad document as she waited for Ryland's return, her suspicions growing. Further probing revealed the business was hooked up to public utilities, but had very low power usage compared to most businesses of its size. It took her less than an hour to determine the average usage, and the company was coming nowhere near it.

That was a puzzling contradiction, because Ryland had mentioned specifically that any storage facility would likely require a great deal of electricity. Still, there was enough about the business to be suspicious, and she was impatient for Ryland's return.

As the day dwindled into evening, she looked up when light emanated from her door, and the locks popped open in quick succession. A moment later, the door opened to reveal the alien, and she grinned at him. "You could have rung the bell like normal people, and I would've opened the door for you."

He arched his brow ridge. "I'm not a normal _people_ , am I? Besides, I didn't want to alarm you with an unknown presence, so I assumed it would be better to open the door myself."

"I could have been indecent. You might have caught me in a compromising position."

His brow ridge furrowed. "What sort of compromising position?"

She giggled for a moment before the sound choked off. Was she flirting with him? How did one even flirt with an alien who wasn't of one's species? Besides, he probably wouldn't be interested in her.

She waved a hand, hoping to dismiss the whole subject, as something prickled in the back of her mind. She turned to the page she had printed out, about to go over it with him, when the realization flooded her mind.

She might be highly desirable to this alien, because she was a genetic match that could carry his offspring. Even if he wanted nothing more than babies from her, he was likely to be interested and protective. She could use that to her advantage.

She scowled at the thought, shoving it away. She had no intention of using Ryland for anything, whether it be sexual relief or something more mundane. She certainly wasn't going to trick or seduce him into breaking her eight-year dry spell, no matter how much she craved his touch.

It had to be simple proximity. She hadn't been near a man who wasn't a doctor or caregiver in the last seven years, since Barry had bailed. She was in the best health of her life, and it was only normal for her libido to be awake and raring to go after all that time. Any man would have elicited the same response, and he wasn't even a man. He was an alien, for goodness sake. What was she thinking?

"I had some luck, Jada."

Forcing her thoughts to turn from the carnal and back to the business at hand, she grasped the page of notes and turned to face him. "So did I, but tell me what you found first please?"

"New York is full of nooks and crannies, and there are more places to hide a large-scale operation like Dr. Ha might be undertaking than I would have guessed in a city of this geographic size and so filled with a large populace."

She nodded. "New York's a good place to hide secrets, I guess."

"However, I did discover a cargo plane landed at a private airstrip near JFK two weeks ago. Tracing the origins, the same plane has stopped everywhere there have been disappearances, and in the same order as I predict Ha has progressed. Unfortunately, there was no one at the plane or the airfield when I went to investigate, but I have a link, so perhaps I can track down someone in the company and learn more. At least now we know how he's flying them around, so that's progress."

"That's good news. I found something too." She handed him the page. "You can read English, right?"

"My translator can rapidly translate it for me. I don't actually speak, read, or write English, but I doubt you can tell the difference or detect the slight delay from the translator changing my words to the right form for you."

"Oh, okay. Anyway, I knew there was at least one other woman with Kaiser's Syndrome in the city. I set out to track her down, since we share a doctor. In the process, I discovered she's still alive, and our doctor recommended her for a study for a medication that will reduce overextension of the joints in Kaiser's patients. She's been enrolled, and when she went to the program four days ago, she hasn't been seen since.

"There have been no hits on her credit card or debit card, and from what I could tell from her landline, she's had a few incoming phone calls, but has placed no outgoing calls. Most of the calls last less than a minute, suggesting the caller is leaving a message.

"I also checked delivery records for restaurants nearby, assuming she has the same culinary weaknesses of the rest of us, and discovered she's a fan of Thai food, ordering it at least twice a week, but nothing at all in the last four days."

"This is Mary Catherine Jones of whom you speak?" At her nod, his gaze moved lower down the page. "And you suspect the study is a front for Dr. Ha to acquire Kaiser's patients?"

She lifted a shoulder. "It makes sense, except for electricity usage. It's too low for a business that size, even if they're doing nothing more than running conference rooms and doing basic labs studies—which if that's all they're doing, why do they need a fifteen thousand square-feet facility with three floors?"

Ryland inclined his head. "It's a very large space for one business of that type, but would provide ideal quarters if you're trying to hold four hundred women, and you needed a floor for medical research, another for housing prisoners, and a third to act as the front to lure in more patients. It's also unlikely he would rely on a human power source to keep the facility running. Dazon technology is more efficient and highly portable."

"I was thinking tomorrow I should go check it out."

Ryland stiffened. "What?"

She tilted her head. "It makes perfect sense. I have Kaiser's Syndrome, so it gives me a good reason to snoop around a bit. I don't have to commit to joining their study, but I can see the layout and try to determine if it's just a medical research facility, or if there's something more going on."

Ryland crossed his arms over his chest, and his fierce scowl was hot enough to melt off the top layer of her skin. "Absolutely not. Do you know how dangerous that will be?"

She nodded. "I'm aware, but it'll be much easier for me to get in than it would be for you. I actually have the disease."

He shook his head again. "I won't risk losing you. I've looked too long—" He broke off, his eyes stormy, and his expression revealing nothing but stubborn resistance. "It's out of the question."

She shook her head at him. "You came to me for help. This is how I can do that."

"Absolutely not," he roared again. "I won't lose my mate after searching so long for you, certain I would never find you."

"You're being unreasonable. I'm perfectly capable of..." She trailed off as his words penetrated the haze in her brain. "What are you talking about? I'm not your mate." She shook her head. "I barely know you."

Ryland sighed, rubbing a hand down his perfectly sculpted face in a weary gesture that was surprisingly human. "Our people have a finely developed mating instinct."

"You mean a healthy sex drive?"

He made a sound that could have been a snort or a laugh. "Yes, I suppose we have that as well, but I mean we have an instinct inside us, one science has never fully explained, that guides us to our intended mate. In many of the men born today, the instinct is dormant, and our scientists have begun to believe we've evolved past it due to a lack of females to keep it active.

"Perhaps it could be due to the genetic tampering of our scientists that allow any reproduction at all as well. Whatever the cause, it's mostly regarded as an old-fashioned or out-of-place ability. I considered it the same, until I saw your picture. I didn't have the mating flare, but I felt something that instinctively told me I would when I saw you in person and not just from a picture."

She frowned. "When you saw my blog, you mean?"

He hesitated before shaking his head. "No, I saw you before then. When I first suspected Dr. Ha had gone rogue to undertake his operation, I tracked down all the known Earth women with Kaiser's Syndrome."

He shook his head. "No, that's not quite right. More than a dozen women had already disappeared, coinciding with his known whereabouts on his supposed hiatus, and when I realized they all had a genetic mutation that he had described as ideal for our genetics in his last reports before taking time off 'to rest,' I determined the location of the others."

Confusion filled her. "Wait? Were you watching Dr. Ha before he started kidnapping women?"

Ryland nodded once. "I was assigned the duty. My superior felt it prudent, considering Dr. Ha's publically stated leanings toward coercion and kidnapping of compatible species—especially if they were technologically inferior to us and couldn't offer a meaningful resistance."

She frowned at him. "So you knew all the women at risk, and you didn't warn them?"

He hesitated again before sighing. "I wanted to, but the decision was made by the High Council that we would simply observe and intercede when the timing was right." He scowled, and a look of disgust crept over his face. "It's my belief there are enough people on the High Council who wanted to see Dr. Ha's results that they deliberately dragged their feet, though that action is contrary to the decision reached by the General Council, with input offered by every Dazon."

She softened slightly toward him. "Are you the only one assigned to this case?"

Ryland paused, nodded, and then paused again before shaking his head. "I am assigned, but I'm not authorized to act directly. I'm supposed to be observing, but when I realized they were moving into New York, I knew I had to protect you. When you posted your blog article, it gave me the perfect opening to approach you without arousing suspicion or drawing Ha's attention if he has someone on the Council supporting his research. If Jorvak knows you're my mate, it might make him more determined than ever to take you."

She ignored the bit about being his mate for a moment to focus on the question burning on the tip of her tongue. "Why would that be? Does he know you personally?"

Ryland nodded. "Quite personally. We have the same genetic father, though we were grown in exo-wombs several cycles apart."

Her mouth dropped open. "He's your brother?"

Ryland paused, as though processing an answer. "I suppose from a human definition, he would be my half-brother, but due to our scientists' manipulation, we're actually more like eighty percent of our father, and only about twenty percent of the genetic material contributed by the Dazon female who mothered us. We had separate donor mothers, in an attempt to maintain genetic diversity as much as possible."

She rubbed her brow as she tried to absorb his words, her kinky curls clinging to her hand in the process. She shoved them away with an impatient flick of her hand. "So why would he be interested because you're involved?" She absolutely wasn't going to utter anything about being his mate. Jada wasn't going to indulge the delusion—or admit to herself how much she liked the idea, though it was completely implausible and ridiculous.

"Jorvak will dismiss most unscientific things, but if he knows I've experienced the mating flare when I first saw you, he'll know you're a close genetic match for me, so you're likely to be for him as well. It will make the creation of offspring that much easier, and he's likely to want to claim you for his mate, not just as another source of eggs for harvesting."

"Oh, goodie." She gave a sharp little laugh. "It's strictly a genetic thing, not because you guys are blood enemies or something then?"

He shook his head. "Jorvak and I have very little communication or interface, Jada. Familial bonds are not the same in recent generations. They can't be due to the changes in our world and the loss of females."

She let out a heavy sigh. "I hope you aren't planning to persuade all the Earth women to donate genetic material to raise children with that information. It all sounds so sterile, and you aren't even really family anymore. Most women aren't going to go for that."

He took a step toward her, and his legs were so long that the single step swallowed most of the space remaining between them. "Then perhaps you will tell me what most Earth women would _go for_ , Jada?"

It was an innocuous question, but the smoky tint to his voice rendered it something altogether different. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her oversized dress, and she struggled for a moment to draw in a deep breath as his physical proximity struck her.

"Earth women want love. They'll want to be cherished and have an equal partnership, to know the union is more than just some sort of reproductive act. They're also going to want to be involved with raising their offspring. Most women, and men for that matter, are hardwired to care for our young. You aren't going to find many women who will voluntarily hand over their eggs and not care about the outcome, or the child that could result.

"I don't know what your people have planned, but if you really want this to be a consensual arrangement, you're going to have to change your presentation and offer the women of Earth something more than a cold, scientific contract."

He lifted a hand and hovered near her cheek without quite touching. "What should we offer them, Jada?"

"You should offer to get to know her, and to take her out and become well acquainted with the woman you plan to mate."

"And if the mating instinct burns brighter when you touch her?" He cupped her cheek as he asked the question, his fingers lightly grazing her skin. "If it feels like your hearts will pound out of your chest, and you will die if you don't have her right that minute, will an Earth woman understand the frantic need and allow a Dazon male to bypass some of the courtship rites?"

She licked her lips as her heart raced even faster in her ears. "It depends on the woman, I guess. Some women are going to want a traditional approach, while other women are more likely to be influenced by a physical response." As she uttered the last words, she swayed closer to him, until her beaded nipples pressed against the slippery cloth of his black bodysuit.

His entire body seem to hum with warmth, and it was making her body temperature rise as well. It also brought a slick wave of molten heat between her legs, and she whimpered as she lifted her hands to grasp his shoulders. "Sometimes, you'll find a woman who's surprisingly okay with a one-night stand, even if she's not agreeing to be a mate for life."

He frowned. "Under the influence of the mating instinct, I can't imagine anything but mating for life." As he spoke the last words, his head dipped, and his lips approached hers.

It was all her, and all her choice, when she stretched to close the distance between them and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was intense and explosive, hotter than anything she'd ever known, and her already-racing heart galloped into full speed as she wrapped her arms tightly around him, and he embraced her tightly.

His mouth devoured hers, first with extreme precision before becoming less coordinated and more frantic rather than thoughtful. She was aware of doing the same, of frenzied need beating through her, and the heat of desire pulsing between her legs that urged her to seek relief with the man in her arms.

_Alien,_ whispered a dim voice of the back of her mind, but it barely registered and didn't matter. She couldn't imagine any circumstances under which she would lose all desire for him. Perhaps if his golden form melted away to reveal a gelatinous blob with multiple tentacles, she might tear herself away and ran out screaming, but that seemed unlikely.

Partially to reassure herself, and also because she suddenly needed to breathe, she pulled her mouth away from his. "Is this your real form?"

Ryland nodded. "This is my species' natural appearance, though there are variations in skin tone, eye color, and shade of hair."

"So there're no surprises, like tentacles underneath, or anything else weird?"

He pressed his forehead to hers as he laughed. "No unpleasant surprises, though I am anatomically different from human males."

Her stomach rippled with dread. "How? How different?"

He hesitated for a moment before stepping back from her. She felt bereft without his arms around her, but was curious enough to fight back the compulsion to follow and wrap her arms around him again.

He pressed something on the neck of his garment, and it flickered like the Mr. Bland illusion earlier, before disappearing. Once the black garment was gone, or rendered invisible, or teleported to the ninth quadrant of the Gamma galaxy for all she knew, he was completely naked and bare to her visual inspection.

His body was as toned and perfect as the tight-fitting suit had suggested, but it hadn't revealed his genitalia before. She watched with surprise and awe as his shaft, which had lain dormant against his leg, thickened and sprouted upward.

He was larger than the average Earth man, but not so large as to be frightening or make her think there was no way she could physically accept him. Moved by her curiosity, she dropped to her knees to inspect him more closely. She peered up at him through the veil of her curls before blowing them out of the way with an upward gust of air through her lips. "Is it all right if I touch you?"

His face spasmed in what seemed like agony, but he nodded in an eager fashion. "Please."

She brought a hand to his shaft, drawing her fingers lightly over the silken skin. He hissed at the first touch of her fingers against him, and she looked up, seeing more of that pleasure/pain expression on his face. She hesitated. "Am I hurting you?"

He shook his head. "No, it just feels amazing. Better than I ever dreamed it would."

Tentatively, she wrapped her hand around him and stroked up and down, trying to find his most sensitive spots. On a human male, it would be on the underside of the head, but he didn't have that kind of anatomy.

The shaft was smooth and long, perfectly cylindrical with a rounded tip, and there was a small slit at the end. He produced a clear fluid, though it had a hint of golden bioluminescence to it, and she couldn't resist the urge to bend forward and extend her tongue, running it lightly over the tip of him to taste his arousal.

Ryland's pre-cum was thinner than she remembered a human male's being, but much sweeter. It wasn't a fruity or a candy type of sweetness. It was simply indescribable, but syrupy and delicious. Drawing back, she looked up at him to tease gently, "Perhaps you won't have to woo the Earth women after all. If they know how good you taste, they might come supplicating to you on their knees just to drain you dry."

His skin seemed to flicker, going from light golden-brown to deep bronze for a moment. It was a whole-body effect, but it reminded her of a flush. Was he a little shy about such things? Remembering his comment about it being better than he'd expected, something clicked. "Um, Ryland?"

"Yes, Jada?" His expression was contorted, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides, as though he was barely hanging on to his last shred of control.

"Have you ever done this before?"

He shook his head, gnashing his teeth together for a moment as the chords in his neck tightened. "Females spend their fertile years procreating in breeding facilities, and none of them mate until their fertility has dwindled. At that point, the highest ranking officials are entitled to offer for them, to care for the females through retirement until death, but the average male doesn't have a female partner."

She paused to swirl her tongue around the tip of his penis again, unable to resist sucking for a moment to draw out his sweet fluid. His harsh groan of pleasure also increased her own, and it was difficult to tear herself away to continue the conversation. "What about with each other? Do Dazon men mate with each other?"

"It's become more common from necessity, but many would still prefer a female mate."

She hesitated. "Do you have a boyfriend or something?" She wasn't going to be a cheater, even if it wasn't considered cheating in his society.

He shook his head. "I experimented a bit as a youngling, but it always felt hollow. It wasn't what I wanted, or what I craved. There was little difference between pleasuring myself or being pleasured by a partner. Without the mating flare and that intense emotional experience, it's simply a different form of physical release, and it wasn't enough for me, so I chose celibacy and self-pleasure."

She nodded, understanding that. While she had never experimented with anyone from the same gender, she had certainly had her share of disappointing lovers, often reaching the conclusion it was simpler just to stay home with her vibrator than try to go out and meet another disappointment. Even Barry, whom she had planned to marry, had been only all right in bed, but nothing spectacular. He'd seemingly had so many other things going for him—stability, a grounded outlook, and readiness for a family—that she had considered the sex part unimportant.

Now she considered herself an idiot for ever thinking that way, and it wasn't just because she'd discovered the truth about Barry. After going eight years without sex, she'd come to realize how much she'd missed it and how much she deserved really good sex.

She had a strong feeling Ryland could certainly provide that. He just might need a little coaxing or coaching. She licked his smooth shaft again before asking, "How far did your experimentation go? Has anyone done this before?" Jada rolled her tongue around the tip of his shaft to punctuate the question.

He groaned and arched his hips forward before saying, "No," in a choked voice.

It was a little intimidating to be his first, but also endearing and sweetly sexy. Determined to give him pleasure, she opened her mouth as wide as she could and slowly sucked his cock inside. He moaned, and his entire body spasmed as his hands gripped her hair tightly in what seemed to be an instinctive reaction.

She withdrew before sliding her mouth down again, taking as much of him as she could until he breached the back of her throat and reached her limits. She ran her hand up and down the exposed root of his erection, the part where her mouth wouldn't reach, as she enthusiastically sucked and bobbed her head. His taste was addictive, but his responses were even more so. He looked like he was almost in pain from the amount of pleasure he was feeling.

With a guttural ground, his hand tightened in her hair, and he pushed her closer to him seconds before his shaft spasmed between her lips, and more of his sweet nectar flowed into her mouth and down her throat. She drank all of it down, sucking lightly to coax more from him until he sagged forward, clearly spent for the moment.

Carefully, she disengaged, making certain she didn't scrape him with her teeth as she pulled back and sat on her calves, looking up at him. "Did you enjoy that?"

The hand holding her hair loosened, and now he started stroking her thick ringlets instead of holding them. "It was amazing. Thank you, Jada."

She smiled him at him and took the hand he extended to help her to her feet. He was completely naked, and she was still fully dressed. It was a little unnerving, and she felt oddly vulnerable even though she was the one wearing her clothes. "How do your people mate?"

"Like yours." His eyes had darkened to the shade of burnt honey, and his skin was definitely a darker golden than it had been before the blowjob.

He bent his head to kiss her again, and she offered up her mouth willingly, their tongues stroking each other. His hands roamed over her body, and she pressed closer to him in her eagerness to feel her skin against his. It might have been his first time with a woman, but he seemed to know what he was doing by the way he stripped her clothes with no fumbling, even mastering the hook on her bra his first try.

"I want to take you to your bedroom now. May I, Jada?"

With a nod, she took his hand to lead him there. She managed to take two steps before he picked her up and whisked her the rest of the way down the hallway and through her bedroom door, closing it behind him with his foot. He laid her on the bed, draping her so that her legs were splayed, and her arms were widely spaced and elbows tucked behind her.

He joined her on the bed a moment later, his fingers playing with the elastic band of her underwear, which was the only garment she still wore. She regretted they were plain white cotton, but he didn't seem to care.

His head dipped lower, and his golden tongue slipped from his mouth to trace around her nut-brown nipple, savoring the succulent bud and tightening it almost to the point of pain. He flicked his tongue across the tip before taking it into his mouth and sucking firmly.

A new surge of moisture filled her folds, and she arched her hips restlessly in search of relief. His fingers dipped into the waistband of her panties, gliding over her soft skin and rounded tummy to find her mound. He stroked the thatch of curls before parting them to seek out her slit.

"Yes, just like that. Touch me please, Ryland." She bit back a whimper as his fingers slipped inside her folds, tracing her interior anatomy with an air of experimentation, as though he was both aroused and curious. She had experienced something similar at the first sight of his cock, so she imagined it was the same for him.

She arched her hips and circled slightly, deliberately bringing his fingers against her clitoris. "Stroke me there please."

He circled his fingers around the spasming bud, making her draw in a deep breath each time he made a rotation. His mouth moved to her other breast, worshiping it with equal attention, and she shut off her brain, surrendering to the sensations sweeping through her.

Her core contracted as she came, drenching his fingers with her slick release, and she moaned at the sight of Ryland dipping his head, his tongue flicking out before she lost sight of the appendage as it moved lower. All she could see then was his hair between her legs while he stripped off her panties, before his tongue slipped inside her, probing her depths and homing in on her clit.

She was still sensitive from the first orgasm, and his experimental suck of the taut bud caused another to overtake her, one so intense that she screamed out her release and wriggled backward from his questing mouth in an attempt to escape the almost-pain of his intimate kiss.

Ryland looked up at her uncertainly as she moved back from him a bit, his brow ridge furrowed. "Are you all right, Jada? Have I done something wrong?"

She shook her head, not able to answer for a moment while she gathered her composure with several deep breaths. "No, you did everything right. It was really good actually. I just got so sensitive, and it was starting to hurt a little bit."

He nodded. "It's the same for me. As I'm straining to climax, there's some...pain almost, and then it's completely obliterated when I release."

She scooted down the bed again, bringing herself close to him as she grasped his erection in her palm, guiding him toward her aching slit. "It sounds like we have a lot in common then."

He nodded, his expression a blend of interest, arousal, and perhaps a hint of uncertainty as she directed him to lie on his back and straddled him. "It makes sense, since we're a close genetic match."

She nodded, but didn't pursue the line of conversation. The last thing she wanted to do was think about genetics and scientific probabilities at the moment, when she was far more interested in more visceral experiences.

Grasping his smooth shaft, she guided it toward her sheath, bracing herself for pain as he slowly breached her tightly closed channel. After seven years without so much as an orgasm, because she'd had no sex drive, and certainly no penetration, she anticipated his possession would be uncomfortable.

She let out a sharp exhalation when his cock stretched her, slowly pushing its way in as she sank down the length of him. Her body was resistant for a moment, but adjusted to the intrusion with surprising rapidity. Soon, she was able to withdraw and sink down on him again.

His fingers dug into her hips, and he was helping to lift her up and practically slamming her down on him as they fucked with enthusiasm. It was the enthusiasm of virgins, because he had never been with a woman before, and she was practically a virgin after her eight years of celibacy.

As her sheath contracted around him, and he twitched inside her, she vaguely realized they probably should have used some type of protection, since they were a close genetic match. Surely, it would require some sort of laboratory assistance for them to create a child, since they weren't an exact genetic match?

If not, she was beyond caring. The idea of having his child didn't scare her. It actually sent a surge of warmth through her, and as she attained physical release, emotional satisfaction filled her at the idea of being a mother, especially the mother of his children. It was a dream she had tried to let go of years ago, knowing it was impossible. Now, thanks to him, it was no longer an impossibility, and after their intense lovemaking, it might be far closer to a certainty.

Afterward, they laid together on her bed, her head on his chest, with her cheek pressed against his rib cage, and her ear nestled to his thumping heartbeat, which seemed twice as fast as hers. She had never felt so content, and she wanted to tell him that, but she was too lethargic from extreme pleasure to speak at the moment. Instead, sleep crept over her stealthily, and she reminded herself to tell him what this had meant to her in the morning when they woke.

# Chapter Four

She woke alone. After eight years of sleeping with no one else, perhaps it should have felt completely natural to her, but it didn't. She was bereft even before she opened her eyes, and as she stretched out her hand to feel the cold bed beside her, she knew he was gone and had been for hours.

Reluctantly, she forced her eyes open and frowned at the ceiling as she wondered why he had left. She didn't think he was gone for good, but she wished he had taken a moment to wake her and explain why he was leaving.

Her lips tightened, and she cursed aloud as she realized he had probably slipped away with the intention of investigating AmbaCorp alone, not wanting to endanger her.

Anger swept through her, and her first impulse was to jump from the bed and make her way to the medical research facility to investigate, as she had planned. However, a deep breath brought a return of logic, and she acknowledged that perhaps he had a point about her investigating. She wasn't trained to do so, and she couldn't really defend herself if it became physical.

Abruptly, she remembered Mary Catherine Jones had entered the facility five days ago, and no one had heard from her since. Her ambitious, but naïve, plan to have a look around and poke through things seemed shortsighted now, and she reluctantly admitted to herself Ryland had been right to reject the idea—though not right to arbitrarily make the decision for her and creep out early in the morning before she awoke.

When he returned, she intended to tell him strongly that she didn't like him slipping away and completely taking the decision from her. Now that she was fully functioning once more, she wanted to be useful and actually live again.

That didn't mean she wanted to throw herself back into an intense social life, or make small talk with a bunch of strangers. She simply wanted to find a balance between being stuck in the apartment and being forced to go out for every little thing. Now that she could choose again, she demanded she retain that ability. Most of all, she wanted to find a place for Ryland in her new life as she figured out the direction she was going to take.

She wasn't completely sold on the mating flare thing he talked about, and she didn't believe in soulmates, but she was willing to keep an open mind and see how the relationship progressed. What kind of future was there with a seven-foot alien who couldn't go out in public without wearing his Mr. Bland disguise? She didn't know, and it was something they would have to address after they tracked down the missing women and stopped the rogue scientist.

After a quick shower, she made her way to the kitchen to have a bite to eat. Following her vigorous night in his arms, her body was screaming for sustenance.

She was finally mollified when she found a note pinned to her refrigerator, written in very precise handwriting. The message was succinct:

_I've gone to investigate AmbaCorp. I'm not going inside at the moment, but will later this evening. In the meantime, could you find schematics for the business? That will be helpful for me tonight._

_R_

He hadn't even taken time to sign his full name, but she took that as a good sign. She would obviously know who he was, and the simple initial seemed more intimate somehow than his full name would have been, especially if he had added his surname.

Was that what aliens called their last name? He'd introduced himself as Ryland Breese, and she couldn't help testing it out in her mind. Jada Breese. It sounded nice, but she shook her head at her own silliness and forced her attention to finishing the toast and cereal before moving to the computer to accomplish the task he'd requested.

She suspected this was along the lines of busywork, because he considered it safe for her to stay at her computer and find information for him. Surely, he must have some sort of scanning device or advanced binoculars that would have allowed him to see the layout of the building from the exterior, but just in case it wasn't simply a task he'd assigned so she would feel like she was contributing, she needed to get to work.

She grimaced as she sank into the wheelchair again, hating it with every fiber of her being now that she was freed from the contraption. She never would have sat in it again, but her house was woefully under-furnished, and it was the only seat available at the computer table. She didn't have a laptop, because she hadn't been mobile enough to move it around her house before the nanobots, so she would just have to sit in the chair, but she vowed it would be the last time. Sometime today, she would find a way to get a new chair, and perhaps some other new furniture.

She was deep in the files of the City Planning database when the door hummed, and light emanated from it. She didn't bother to look up, not wanting to lose the data packet she was following, as she waited for Ryland to enter.

The locks popped, and the door swung open. Almost immediately, she knew it wasn't Ryland stepping into her space. She wasn't certain how she knew that, but the person felt wrong to her.

She looked up from her computer with dread and fear as she saw two people step into her apartment, both wearing black suits and looking very nondescript. She immediately recognized them as Mr. Bland disguises, and her first impulse was to push up from the chair and run for it.

As they approached, she froze. She appeared to be paralyzed with fright, and though she wasn't that good of an actress—she was certainly terrified—she wasn't completely incapacitated by terror either. It occurred to her as the two aliens approached, their expressions revealing nothing, that it was to her benefit to appear to still be confined to the chair.

If they realized she had been healed, they would know someone was on to them, though they might not know it was Ryland directly. She would be putting her lover at risk, along with herself. Either way, she didn't think she could fight them off, so they were going to take her. This way, they would be lax about security if they thought she was immobilized.

As they approached, she pressed her back into the chair and lifted her hands. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Remain calm, Jada Washington," said Left Mr. Bland.

"You've been recruited for a medical study," said Right Mr. Bland as they boxed her in.

Her heart was racing in her ears, and she didn't have to fake the note of fear that made her voice shake. "What are you doing with me?"

Neither bothered to answer her as they stood on either side of her chair, both men taking an arm of the wheelchair in one hand and hefting it, and her, seemingly with no difficulty at all. The show of strength was frightening and demoralizing, and she didn't know if it was a deliberate display, or if they were simply no-nonsense in their collection practices. After four hundred women, they probably had their routine down pretty well, after all.

As they walked past it, she managed to hit the button to turn off her computer, just in case they decided to look at her screen. Neither man seemed at all interested in it, and she was relieved. Otherwise, they would have seen just exactly what she was digging for in the City Planning Department's database. That would have led to questions about why she wanted schematics for the building housing AmbaCorp, which was likely just a front for the alien kidnapping and breeding ring led by the mysterious Dr. Ha.

Unfortunately for her, he was about to become far more known and less mysterious, since the doctor had clearly decided to enroll her in his so-called study. Jada was sure Dr. Ha was studying the women he'd stolen, but not in a benign fashion, and certainly not in a way that would benefit anyone with Kaiser's Syndrome. She wasn't entirely faking it when she whimpered and allowed some of her fear to show, which made her shake in the chair.

She hoped Ryland would return soon. When he saw the wheelchair gone, would he realize what had happened? Surely he would know she wouldn't have voluntarily taken it anywhere, and with the locks off the door, though there was no damage to them, he would surely comprehend someone had let themselves into her apartment and taken her. Once he came to that conclusion, he would immediately understand it was his half-brother and come for her.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked as they loaded her wheelchair into the van, securing her chair with straps. It was akin to the bus for the disabled that she often took to doctor's appointments or scheduled to go shopping, but when they closed the door without answering, she saw there were no handles on the inside. Only they could let her out.

She hoped when Ryland came for her that he was able to do so safely, and he wouldn't be alone. She didn't like the idea of him facing who knew how many, all of them aliens like him, which diminished the physical advantage he would have had over human assailants.

"Hurry up, Ryland," she whispered softly, allowing herself the comfort of speaking his name just once before she subsided into silence. Once she was at the facility, she would have to pretend like she had never heard of Ryland, and she would have to slip back into the invalid role, though it didn't sit well with her.

It was ironic that the device which had been her virtual prison for the last seven years was now one of the things that might end up saving her. The wheelchair was oddly comforting, or at least what it represented, as the van drove farther from her home and contact with Ryland.

When the van stopped, Jada clung to the arms of the wheelchair and debated her chances of making a run for it despite her earlier plan. As the doors opened, the same two Mr. Blands stood there, but there were two more behind them, and she hesitated, perhaps too long to act, because the first two who had kidnapped her stepped into the van and unfastened the strap around her chair to wheel her down the ramp that folded from the van.

She looked at them closely, searching for any sign of their true alien form, but their disguises were perfect, other than the fact that they looked almost identical. So did the other two as she got nearer, and she stiffened when one of them put a hand on her shoulder and gave her what was supposed to be a reassuring smile, though it simply sent chills racing up her spine.

"Welcome to the program, Jada Washington." The fourth alien held the door open, and they slipped inside the back entrance of a large building, which she presumed was AmbaCorp, moving in procession, with one of the aliens pushing her chair, another one walking farther ahead, the fourth bringing up the rear, and the one who still had his creepy hand on her shoulder walking alongside as he looked down at her.

She shuddered when his Mr. Bland disguised melted to become his true form. Almost immediately, she knew this had to be Ryland's half-brother, Jorvak Ha. They shared some resemblance, though Ha's features were rougher and more irregular. She grimaced in disgust.

He must have mistaken her reaction for fear of his alien visage, which was a relief since she wasn't supposed to know about his existence. He patted her shoulder in a reassuring fashion. "I know this seems frightening, Jada, but you have no reason to fear us. We need something from you, and in the end, we'll ensure you're healthy again."

She stiffened, glaring up at him. "What do you want from me?"

"There's something very unique about you, and the other women like you, and our species requires your assistance."

She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she couldn't betray that knowledge. Instead, she forced a deadpan expression. "I've been told I'm a heckuva blogger, and I'm pretty gifted with hacking, though I'd appreciate you not telling anyone about that, so if you need either one of those skills, I'm the person for you. You could have just called me like normal...er, aliens?"

His expression remained unchanged, so either he had no sense of humor, or she just wasn't funny. "I'm afraid we need something more...fundamental from you and your compatriots."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Like what? I'd like some answers before I go any farther."

The doctor patted her arm in a condescending fashion before finally removing his hand from her. "I'm afraid it doesn't really matter what you want at this point, Jada. You've been recruited for a great honor, and a great duty. Our people will revere your contribution."

"That's terrific," she said darkly. "Am I going to be alive to see this great reverence, Doctor?" She cursed herself for uttering the slip even as he stiffened. "Or am I wrong in guessing you're a mad scientist-type?" She held her breath as she waited to see if he would accept her attempts to cover her slipup without suspicion.

After a moment, he simply gave her a brief nod. "I am a doctor, though hardly a mad scientist. I'm a revolutionary genius on my planet, though many do not yet recognize that. They will when we prove our success though. Oh yes, they will."

Great. He wasn't a dedicated scientist. Instead, he was after the glory too. At least if he had been doing this horrible experiment strictly to save his people, it would have been slightly preferable. Not that there was any justification for kidnapping and forcibly harvesting genetic material from four hundred people, but it was even more reprehensible to know he was doing it for some sort of accolade by the Dazon. "And if I'd prefer to decline this honor?"

He shook his head, his expression completely cold, though his tone was warmly sympathetic. "I'm afraid that isn't an option, Jada. I must leave you now, but my assistants will see that you're settled in after intake testing."

She stiffened again, her breath catching in her throat as she realized they planned to start right away. Fear nearly blinded her, because she was terrified of what they might do to her. As the doctor left them, and they detoured to the left down the hallway, she clenched her hands around the wheelchair as an even graver possibility occurred to her.

What if they detected the nanobots in her bloodstream and realized she had a connection to one of their own? Or at least one of their own species, but not their group. How would they react? She wasn't certain, but at the very least, it would remove Ryland's ability to stage a surprise attack.

She was close to hyperventilating by the time they stopped before a hydraulic door, and one of the aliens pressed a button on a metal pad by the wall to allow their entry. It was a cold and sterile room, filled with medical instruments and a large table in the middle that sent a shudder of dread down her spine when she saw the straps attached to it.

She had known intellectually that they didn't care about the women they were compulsorily recruiting, but seeing the reality up close and personally of just how ruthless and uncaring they were brought it home sharply. She and the other women like her were little more than lab rats to these people, to be confined and used as needed.

She didn't believe Dr. Ha's promise about healing them when it was over. It was far more likely he would harvest everything useful from the lot of them and dispose of all the women, or simply leave them here in this warehouse facility to rot when he returned to Dazonia Major.

She almost resisted on pure instinct when the two aliens still acting as her escorts came to her chair and took her arm, one on each side. At the last second, she realized if she was strapped into that bed, she would be completely at their mercy. If she remained passive and docile, and they believed she was too feeble to attempt an escape, perhaps she could persuade them not to fasten the straps.

It was a risky proposition, but perhaps it would buy her some time. At the moment, the aliens probably weren't looking for her to fight them off and run away, so she had the element of surprise on her side if she acted. The major flaw in that plan was the fact that she had no idea how to fight them off. They would have to be incapacitated, or they would alert the facility to her attempted escape. More likely, they would both, in conjunction, easily subdue her, and that would be the end of any possibility of escape.

By the time she had settled on the least terrible of her two options, they had carried her and lifted her to the table/bed/chair, because it appeared to be able to form multiple positions as she saw from the joints and odd angles when they got her closer to it.

They were gentle with her when they put her on the bed, but it wasn't in a thoughtful way. It was more like the way one would handle an expensive object they didn't want to break, and not because they had any concern for actually hurting her personally.

One of the former Mr. Blands lifted the set of straps on his side, bringing them to her wrist. She pulled her arm away, shaking her head. "That's hardly necessary. I assume you've seen my medical file? I can't walk anywhere by myself for more than two or three steps. Where am I going to go, E.T.?"

The alien grunted and looked at his companion, who shrugged. After a moment, they dropped the straps, allowing Jada to breathe just a bit easier as a surge of relief swept through her. It was a minor victory, absolutely minuscule in comparison to what she still had to accomplish if she wanted to survive this, but she was thankful for at least one thing going the way she had hoped.

"I can handle this, Tredor." The alien on her left nodded to the other alien before stepping back from her. He didn't speak as he let himself out of the room, and she dared cling to that as another bit of good luck. Assuming he didn't come back, it would be just her against one alien for now. Those were still intimidating odds, but she was more likely to succeed in a one-on-one situation.

She tried to remain passive, waiting for the right moment, as the alien assistant bustled around her, hooking her up to machines and getting readings from things she had no idea how to interpret. She was successful in remaining quiet until the alien brought out a deceptively simple-looking device, similar to a screwdriver, though without the metal tip. It was more like the handle of the screwdriver, though not as ergonomically shaped for a human hand. She tensed as he got closer, holding another shiny metal object in his other hand. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I need a tissue sample, Ms. Washington."

Her eyes widened as he lifted the cylindrical object and brought it closer to the outside of her bicep. "And just how do you plan to obtain it?"

"This will numb the area." He held up the can before spraying it on her arm. And then he held up the other device that was so ominously nondescript. "And this will allow me to take a sample." He pressed a button, and a short laser beam shot out of it. She stiffened and tried to scoot farther away from him, pressing her back against the table. "Not with that pygmy light saber, you aren't."

The alien arched a brow ridge, looking completely befuddled. "This device is a laser scalpel, Ms. Washington, and you'll feel nothing, I assure you."

Since she still didn't have a weapon or a plan, she closed her eyes and barely bit back a whimper as the alien brought his laser scalpel against her skin. A second later, the unpleasant scent of burning flesh filled the immediate area, but there was no pain.

She dared to look down in time to see a big chunk of her flesh and muscle disappearing into a metal basin. Her stomach clenched with nausea when she saw the gaping wound, and she didn't have to fake the impulse to vomit. She simply bent over to the left side and hurled.

The alien made a sound that could have been exasperation or concern, and he quickly set down his implements on a stand near him. It looked like the same kind of metal tray that her doctor's office used, and she wondered if they had outfitted AmbaCorp with human technology that was readily available, or if there were just some commonalities across their species. The first idea seemed more likely.

As the alien walked around the table to deal with her mess, she was pleased to see he hadn't taken time to put away the numbing spray or the laser scalpel. Cautiously, she reached for them one at a time with her right arm, pressing them close to her thigh in an attempt to shield her possession of them from his gaze. She didn't dare risk using her left arm since he was so close to that side of her.

He was too far away for her to practically stab him with the laser scalpel before he would realize what was occurring. Instead, she reclined with rigid posture, her hand curled around the laser scalpel as she waited for an opportunity.

When it came, it was unexpectedly the numbing agent she used first. The alien had crouched down on his hands and knees to clean up the vomit, and as he started to rise after finishing the unpleasant task, his eyes were level with the bed. Acting more on instinct than cool intellect or logic, she released her hold on the laser scalpel and brought up the numbing agent, spraying it all in his eyes. She doubted it would hurt, but hoped it would blind him.

He reeled back and said a word she didn't recognize, so she assumed his translation system must not have anything even close to the word in English. It was probably an alien curse word.

Before he could get too far away, she dropped the numbing agent and lifted the laser scalpel instead, bringing it up and clicking the button as he had done. For a moment, the laser beam flickered before fading away. Her heart was racing in her ears, and the alien seemed to be less jerky in his motions, which meant he was probably rapidly recovering from any effects of the numbing agent. She pressed the button again, harder this time, and the short laser beam shot out.

As he reached for her, she slid off the table and ducked under his arm, moving around behind him to stab the scalpel through his back with a sweeping slice. The laser burned through his flesh easily, and that same unpleasant odor of charred flesh filled the air, once again making her want to vomit. Instead, she pulled out the scalpel and shoved it back in, this time a direct puncture wound into the back of his neck, where the brain stem would be on a human, at what she hoped was the base of his skull.

The alien fell to the floor without another sound, and there was no sign of movement. She didn't know how to check his vital signs or determine if he was still alive, and she didn't waste time trying to find out.

Jada paused long enough to examine the wound in her arm, not wanting to leave a blood trail that would be easy to follow. The laser had cauterized the edges, so there was no blood, though it was a disgusting sight.

Before fleeing the room, she bent over long enough to try to wrest the scalpel from the back of his neck, grimacing as she realized part of the handle had gotten stuck in the light-orange spongy flesh revealed by the incision through his neck. "Gross." She wiped her hand on his slick black uniform, not wanting to think about the fact that she had alien brain matter all over her fingers.

She decided to abandon the scalpel and stood up straight, taking a moment to look through the instruments arranged on the tray, but finding nothing else that looked like the laser scalpel. She supposed she should take it out of his skull, but it wasn't much of a weapon anyway. She'd have to be in close quarters to have any use for it, and she didn't think she was going to end up catching someone else unaware again.

Before leaving the laboratory, she did pick up a metal bar out of a stack against one wall. She wasn't certain what their purpose was, but they looked like rebar used in construction. She doubted that was the function for them in this room, but when she hefted one in her hand and gave a good swing, she was satisfied it would do serious damage to any alien she actually managed to hit with it. It was still a feeble weapon, especially since they probably had something like laser rifles, but it would have to do. The only other option was to stay in the room and hide, which would be useless, because someone would eventually come check on the alien assigned to experiment on her.

At the door, she found a matching button to the one that had been on the exterior and pressed it. She held her breath as the door opened, relieved that it had done so, while also frightened of what she was going to find on the other side. She hated feeling so helpless and fearful, but there was certainly an element of adrenaline to the whole ordeal that made her feel alive.

She could almost understand extreme sports, but still didn't get how people could enjoy a career as a spy or something along those lines. That was how she felt at the moment, creeping down the corridor as she waited to run into the next alien. Unfortunately, she was no James Bond. Hell, she wasn't even a Bond Girl, and she was in way over her head.

When she got to the end of the corridor, she took a right, because they had taken a left before. She slipped down the hallway when she heard footsteps coming from the other side of the corridor. Panicked, she looked around for somewhere to hide and darted to the closest door. She could only hope it was someplace safe, rather than leading her into Dr. Ha's personal quarters, or an equally awful location.

Fortunately, the door opened when she pressed the button, and she was able to slip across the threshold and out of the way before it closed, crouching down against the wall as she waited for them to pass. She couldn't actually hear activity in the hallway, which hindered her ability to determine when it was safe to leave the darkened room.

Finally, after several seconds, she started to rise and reach for the button to allow her to exit. A second later, arms enfolded her, and a hand clamped over her mouth, trapping the scream that came automatically to her lips. Her pipe clattered to the floor with a clanking sound.

"Hush, Jada."

She froze in shock as the familiar voice whispered in her ear, turning in his arms a moment later when he loosened his hold and throwing herself into Ryland's embrace. She clung tightly to him, and after a moment, she realized he was holding her just as securely. Tears she hadn't been aware of wanting to cry suddenly filled her eyes. Jada sniffed and blinked them back while she looked up at him in the dimly lit room. The only illumination came from a device in his hand. "I was scared I'd never see you again."

His expression betrayed his concern, and his normally golden complexion was more of a pasty yellow. "What are you doing here? I told you not to come."

She stepped back from him as irritation swelled. Her hands found purchase on her hips as she glared up at her alien lover. "They came to my apartment and took me. And just what are you doing here? Your note said you were just going to poke around the outside for now and wait until dark to slip inside."

He looked sheepish. "I saw an opportunity to sneak inside, so I seized it. I've been slowly exploring the facility, and both my hearts nearly exploded when I saw you slip into this room. You aren't supposed to be here." He sounded aggravated, but she knew it wasn't at her. "You were supposed to be safe."

She bit her lip before allowing her hands to fall back to her sides and taking a step toward him again. She rested her head on his chest and one hand on his shoulder. "You're supposed to be safe too. What are we going to do?"

His arms came around her again, still holding her tightly, but perhaps without the same hint of desperation as before. "I managed to contact my supervisor, and he's agreed to send a team to apprehend Ha and his cohorts."

She shuddered in his arms. "How long will that take? Aren't you like a gazillion light-years away from here?"

"I'm in the same room, Jada," he said with perfect logic, though his lips twitched to suggest he was teasing her. "However, Dazonia Major is quite a far journey from here. Fortunately, it doesn't take long to fold."

She shook her head. "Fold? What are you folding? I don't understand."

"Essentially, we're folding space to shorten the distance between one point and another point. Reinforcements will be here within the hour."

Relief filled her, and she sagged against him. "So we just have to stay hidden until then?"

He stiffened, and there was a significant pause before his arm spasmed around her in a tight hug for a moment. After that, he took a step back, looking slightly ill. "We could do that, but I have a better idea. I don't wish to endanger you, but nor can I leave you here hiding alone. Neither option is safe."

She shook her head. "What options? Tell me what they are, and I'll decide what to do for myself."

Ryland inclined his head. "We can stay here and hide together, moving if necessary, or we can return to the holding area to free your friends and heal as many of them as time allows."

"The second idea, of course." She hesitated, tipping her head to the side as she considered. "Why do you want to heal them right this minute? I'm not ungrateful at all, but it seems like bad timing."

Ryland shrugged. "Two reasons, I suppose. The first is, healthy patients might have a greater chance of being able to escape than women who are bedbound or wheelchair-bound. The second is complicated."

She nodded to encourage him to continue.

"I'm not entirely confident my government will release the treatment for Kaiser's Syndrome without demanding the women cooperate with breeding experiments in return. I'd like to heal as many as possible before I lose the opportunity, and perhaps your scientists will find a way to reverse engineer our technology if my home world is being difficult."

She blinked at him. "But if you take away their negotiating tool, it could mean your species will go extinct."

He hesitated, his expression dark and clearly revealing his confliction. "Yes, but do we deserve to persevere and endure at the expense of your species, and the human women's right to choose whether or not to help us? That's a question I've wrestled with, and my conclusion is this has to be a consensual arrangement between Dazon men and human women, or it's completely unethical."

She nodded her satisfaction, agreeing completely with his conclusion, but still touched that he could think about it in such a way when his race's existence was at stake. "Let's go free my friends."

# Chapter Five

When they slipped into the corridor, it was empty, and they cleared three hallways before they ran across an alien. At first, the assistant paid them little attention, probably having seen Earth women moving around the corridors before, but he stiffened as he started to pass them. He turned face Ryland, hand clamped over his upper arm. "Who are you, and what is your authorization to be in this area?"

Ryland gave him an impassive expression. "I'm Inquisitor Breese, and my authorization comes from Dazonia Major." Before the other alien could respond or react, the device in Ryland's hand crackled with green sparks, and the alien's body jolted at the impact. He convulsed and slumped to the floor a second later, either unconscious or dead.

"You tased him."

Ryland look down at her, a question in his eyes. "I did what?"

She waved a hand, deciding not to initiate a discussion on human weapons at the moment. "Never mind. Is he dead?"

Ryland nodded. "I couldn't take chances, so the pulser is discharging at maximum capacity." He took a moment to lift the body over his shoulder and nodded for her to open the nearest door. She did so cautiously, relieved to see it was another darkened room. It could be minutes or hours before someone entered, but it appeared to be empty at the moment at least. Ryland dropped the body inside, closing the door behind him with his elbow, before taking her hand and leading her down the corridor again.

That was the only alien they ran across on their trek to the area he had called the holding area, and when he opened the door to take her inside, she realized why he'd called it that.

It had an open floor plan, and the area was crammed with hospital beds. She didn't have time for an exact count, but certainly at least four hundred, and probably more. There was no doubt a bed in this facility for every woman Dr. Ha's group had kidnapped. Somewhere in the collection, there was probably a bed for her too.

"Oh, no," called out a familiar voice, thick with tears. "Not you too, Jada."

Her gaze unerringly sought the source of the voice, and tears filled her eyes when she saw her friend Jessminda a dozen beds away. She rushed to her friend, dropping down onto the bed to hug her as Ryland stood behind her.

Jess glared up at him, tightening her arms around Jada in a protective fashion. "You stay away from her."

Jada patted her shoulder and wriggled free of the tight hug, since it was currently reducing her ability to inflate her lungs. "No, it's okay, Jess. This is Ryland, and he's here to help rescue and heal you guys." She didn't bother to explain that it wasn't completely healing, but rather a process of restoring optimal homeostasis. The scientific talk and explanation could wait until later.

She looked down at her friend, who wasn't confined to the bed with straps, other than one across her waist. She touched it and arched a brow. "Have they labeled you a flight risk?"

Jess chuckled darkly. "They got sick of me pulling myself out of bed and trying to crawl across the floor."

"Never give up, right?" She grinned at her friend before turning her head to look up at Ryland. "Can you heal Jess now?"

He nodded, pulling out the same device she recognized from when he had injected her with the nanobots. "I have approximately twenty units in here, Jada, so I can't heal everyone. I wish I could."

She nodded her understanding, suddenly aware of the eyes on them, and hating the fact they couldn't help everyone or save everyone that day.

When Ryland brought the device closer to Jess, her friend shook her head, straight brown hair flying everywhere. "Get that away from me, alien boy."

"It's okay, Jess. He gave me the same thing, and I was up walking around a few minutes later."

Jess turned distrusting eyes on her, which hurt. "How am I supposed to believe that? How do I even know you're you? These are fucking aliens, Jada."

She inclined her head. "Fair enough, but have you seen any human-like aliens walking around? Or have they all been of the Mr. Bland or the golden-skin variety?"

Jess hesitated for a moment before answering, looking almost reluctant to admit, "Just the golden boys like this one."

Jada nodded again. "They want our eggs, not us. It's the Kaiser's Syndrome that makes us genetically compatible with them. I promise you that I am your friend, and not some weird alien clone thing."

"Our eggs?"

Ryland interjected, "I found the research area, and Dr. Ha's team has harvested several hundred human eggs, but has not yet initiated the process of creating blastocysts for implantation."

Jess blinked at him before turning her attention back to Jada. There was still faint suspicion in her gaze. "I still don't know if it's you."

Jada sighed. "Do you remember when we had Mexican food six months ago? We shared half a bottle of tequila between us, and we had to wait there half the night before we were sober enough to call for a taxi to take us home?"

The mistrust in Jess's eyes faded slightly. "Yeah, okay, but tell me something only you would know."

"When you were six years old, you put slugs in Pradheep's shoes because he had pulled your hair and laughed at you in front of his friends."

Jess relaxed abruptly, looking at Ryland and holding out her arm. ""Okay, get on with it then."

Ryland didn't say anything, but his lips appeared to be twitching, and he was clearly having a difficult time holding in his amusement at her about-face and bossy tone. He injected her with the nanobots and moved on to the next woman less than ten seconds later.

Jada sat with Jess as the nanobots did their magic, watching as the women nearest them were offered the option of being treated. A surprising number of them declined, but she understood their fear. She just hoped they weren't rejecting their last chance, and she hoped Ryland wasn't the only Dazon who thought it had to be a consensual arrangement for it to work.

He was administering the seventeenth dose when the door suddenly opened, admitting Ha and a group of his assistants, who stormed into the room. They formed a semicircle between the women and the exit. A few of the women were already regaining the ability to stand, Jess included, and she climbed from the bed with moderate assistance from Jada. It would take the nanotechnology a bit of time to repair her atrophied muscles, but at least she could stand.

Jorvak looked appalled at the sight before him, and his gaze homed in on his half-brother. "Inquisitor Breese?"

The coldly impersonal way he addressed his brother boggled her mind, and she reminded herself they were aliens with a completely different culture, as Ryland had told her.

Ryland slipped the device that administered the nanotechnology back into his suit, where it seemed to disappear. She'd have to remember to ask him about their storage or pockets at some point in the future. He strode back to them, his arm going around Jada's waist in a sign of support. "Jorvak Ha, you and your assistants are under arrest for sedition. You will be extradited back to the home world, where you'll face charges of unauthorized experimentation on a non-compliant sentient race."

Ha crossed his arms over his black jumpsuit and made a production of looking around. "You've come to arrest me, Inquisitor? And who will be providing the assistance for that task? Will it be these humans, who would be no match for us even in perfect physical condition?"

His gaze moved to Jada, and he frowned at her. "Perhaps it will be the human you must have restored to health a few days ago, one who was formidable enough to kill one of my assistants, but not before her genetic material was entered into the computer. As soon as it detected the presence of nanotechnology, the system alerted me."

"Actually, it will be the armada currently orbiting Earth. I received notification from Commander Darvig approximately ten minutes ago that they have arrived, and a landing party will be here shortly."

Jorvak's haughty expression faded, replaced by one of anger and fear. "Have you fools no vision? These women hold the key to our future. All Earth women can easily be modified with a full laboratory and all Dazon technology at my disposal. It won't take much to figure out how to reprogram the genetic code so that they all carry the extra fragment.

"There are approximately four billion women on this planet, which is more than enough to revitalize not only our population, but our culture and society. Our men need wives as much as we need offspring. We've forgotten how to be a cohesive society, and women can teach us that again."

Jada shook her head, stunned at the juxtaposition of his words and his actions. "But these are the women you're planning to kidnap and force to do your bidding. How do you see them becoming some sort of harmonious integration into Dazon society and elevating your standard of living...or whatever you have in mind? The women will fight you every step of the way."

He glared at her, giving her a look that suggested he found her no more important than he would a bug pinned under a microscope. "The women will cooperate if they want to have their disease held in check. If they continue to resist, it's a simple matter to shut down the nanotechnology. If I had your nanos' exact energy signature, I could shut yours down in five minutes or less."

She glared at him with equal ferocity, taking a step forward without thinking. She almost marched right up to him and slugged him in the face, which wouldn't have been very peaceable of her, but certainly would have felt good. Instead, Ryland's hand around her wrist kept her from moving forward. "You're still talking about force and coercion. The only way this union will work is as a partnership. The women have to be ready to become your partners, and there has to be more incentive than holding their health over their head."

He shrugged. "You humans are far below us and beneath us. You should consider it an honor that we would integrate you into our society."

She rolled her eyes. "You'd integrate a strain of fungus into your society if it gave you the results you're looking for, Dr. Ha."

He inclined his head in a nod of agreement. "I see we share a similar opinion of your species then."

She turned to Ryland, who had not released his hold on her hand. "I know he's your brother, but can't you just shoot him?" She was so frustrated that the words came out staccato, and she punctuated the last one with a grunt.

"I'm afraid I don't have that authorization, Jada." He winked at her. "Now, I want you and the other women to move to the back of the room, because the commander and the rest of the team are in the facility, and they'll be breaching those doors any second. I want to minimize injury, particularly to the earthlings."

Jada nodded, understanding the need to be relegated to the back of the room and protected, though she didn't like it. She would rather stand beside him, but she knew it would be a distraction for him, rather than a helping hand. She didn't know anything about combat, and she didn't even know if Ha's people would put up a fight or if they would surrender peacefully. Either way, Ryland would be more focused, ergo safer, with her out of the immediate area.

Jess heard his words too, and she started herding the women who could walk toward the back of the room. Those who were in chairs or beds, and required assistance, took more time. She was surprised that Ha's group made no effort to stop them from moving the women, but she was glad to be able to accomplish the task quickly.

They had just moved the last of the nearest thirty women deeper into the room, closer to all the other beds, when the door opened. She had been expecting a battering ram, or the alien equivalent, to be necessary, so it was almost a letdown when the door slid open easily, and the troops entered to surround Jorvak.

He and his associates surrendered without fighting, though the doctor paused as they started to escort him from the room, looking directly at Ryland as Jada came back to him, deciding it was safe enough to approach now. "All you've done today is slow down our progress and delay the inevitable. I'm not the only one who thinks this way, Inquisitor Breese. You'll see that I have more support than you, and I'll be the hero who discovered the salvation of our race, while you'll simply be the footnote recorded as a brief impediment."

Ryland shook his head as he put his arm around Jada and pulled her nearer. "I believe you're wrong, Jorvak, but I will not willingly allow such a plan to proceed, and I won't follow any who would order such action."

The Dazon who had arrested Jorvak led him from the room, and his associates fell in line between the aliens taking them into custody. Each arrestee moved with a cocky arrogance that suggested they were certain they had nothing to fear.

Jada turned to Ryland, grasping his hand in hers. "Are they right? Will they be greeted as heroes rather than criminals?"

Ryland lifted his shoulder. "I wish I knew. I'd like to believe in the goodness of my fellow Dazon, and that they couldn't act in such a reprehensible manner, but they're also desperate, and Jorvak was right. The bonds that hold us together as a people have frazzled and split over the ensuing generations, and we're a much more selfish society than we used to be. All we can do is wait and see."

She didn't like that plan, and she clung to him tighter. "Do you have to go back?"

He froze for a moment before lifting a hand to push her kinky curls off her forehead in a tender gesture. "I'll submit a recording for my debriefing, and I can record my testimony live via our communications link. There's no pressing reason for me to return to Dazonia Major. I would like to stay here on Earth...with you...but in what capacity?"

She licked her lips and pressed her body closer to his. "I'd like to have you stay in the capacity as my lover, eventually becoming my husband—or whatever Dazons call that role—and creating children together."

His eyes darkened, and he almost purred. "So now you believe in the mating flare, my sweet human?"

She shook her head. "No, not really, but I believe in you, and how you make me feel. I want you to stay."

Ryland bent his head, bringing his lips close to hers when he said, "Forever and always, my dear mate." A second later, he sealed the promise with a kiss.

Find the bundled set of the complete series:

Dazon Agenda

<https://books2read.com/u/bQZVwe>

# Bonus Excerpt of Alien's Babies (DA #2)

"I'm what?" Jessminda Patel looked across the desk at the golden-skinned alien doctor who'd just uttered the most ridiculous words ever. "I can't be."

Dr. Wy looked regretful, but insistent. "There can be no mistake, Ms. Patel." He looked down at her file contained on something that looked similar to a tablet, though semitransparent. "I did check everything three times, though I worked quickly when I was informed you were one of the women who refused to stay at this facility for the next few days while we sort out this mess."

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the doctor. "You're darn right I refused to stay. I was kidnapped and taken from my home, and I've been out of touch for two weeks. I want to get out of this place now, and there's absolutely no way you're going to hold me."

The alien doctor arched his brow ridge, his golden-brown eyes shining, though it was difficult to tell with sympathy or frustration at her recalcitrance. "I understand, Ms. Patel, but I'm not trying to hold you here. I have no reason to do so."

She snorted. "That's not what I've heard or overheard, as the case may be. Since my DNA is highly valued by your people, don't expect me to trust anything you say."

The doctor sighed, and then nodded. "If you would allow me to show you then?"

She nodded, though her insides were a twisted mass of nerves. She knew part of her defiance and overall lack of cooperation was simply a front to disguise how distraught she was. That, and she was clinging to the belief the doctor was lying to her for some nefarious purpose because she needed that. What he claimed was unthinkable, and she couldn't face it on top of everything else she had been through the last couple of weeks.

The doctor used his tablet to call up whatever he was looking for, and a moment later, a 3-D image popped up from the screen, filling her field of vision. "This is from the full-body scan we performed less than an hour ago, trying to ascertain if there was any damage from Dr. Ha's experiments." He moved his fingers on the tablet, and the picture went from showing all of her skeletal, muscular, and vascular system in layered slices to just her abdominal quadrant.

She reared back slightly when the image of her own ovaries and reproductive system loomed in front of her face far larger than life. Literally. As a retired nurse, she knew exactly what she was looking at, and her heart sank as her eyes focused on three little dots that shouldn't be there. Not that they were small dots at this magnification. They were almost as large as they would be in real life in a few months.

A wave of nausea swept through her, and she shook her head as she wanted to stubbornly cling to her rejection of the truth. "It makes no sense. I heard Ryland...Inquisitor Breese...say Jorvak Ha hadn't even gotten to making blastocysts yet."

"That's partially true, but the inquisitor hadn't had the opportunity to fully explore the facility. There was another, smaller room farther from the main lab. That's where we found remnants of his experiments with fusing human eggs and Dazon sperm to form blastocysts. Some of those beings are still stored in frozen tanks, but the ones he tried to grow in exo-wombs didn't thrive."

She let out a little moan of denial.

"According to Ha's notes, he couldn't quite adapt the exo-womb to the same environment as the human womb without his full laboratory facility back on Dazonia Major." The doctor looked disgusted when he said, "He decided to bypass the exo-womb and go straight to the source. Unfortunately, you aren't the only woman in this position, Ms. Patel. Of the twenty-one fertilization and implantations Ha undertook, fourteen were successful, resulting in a pregnancy."

Jess refused to cry, but it was tenuous for a moment. "I'm surprised he only did fourteen," she said scathingly.

"I have no doubt he would have succeeded on a far larger scale if Inquisitor Breese and his human mate hadn't managed to stop this operation and call in Commander Darvig and the armada."

Jess slumped in her chair, no longer able to pretend like the alien was lying to her. Her gaze focused sharply on the three little embryos displayed so prominently by alien technology. They were growing inside her at the moment, and it was a bewildering and terrifying prospect. "They're so much farther along developmentally than they should be. I was his prisoner for roughly two weeks, but these appear to be somewhere around six to eight weeks in development."

The doctor looked impressed. "I concur. During our genetic manipulations undertaken the past few generations in an attempt to keep our species alive after the biological weapon destroyed most of our women's ability to reproduce, our geneticists have increased the rate of fetal development by a factor of five. What used to be a fifteen-month gestational period for Dazon women has been safely reduced to three months."

She shook her head again as another wave of nausea swept throughl her. Abruptly, she realized she'd felt nauseated off and on for at least the last four days, but had attributed it to her captivity and perhaps whatever drugs they used to keep her compliant when she was taken to the lab for testing—testing she could never recall afterward, and now had a better picture of what it involved.

"How long do you think I have until..." She trailed off, barely able to say the words. They felt strange in her mouth, as though her lips and tongue wanted to reject them as much as she did. "...the birth?"

The doctor lifted a shoulder. "If it accelerates similarly to a Dazon pregnancy, I would estimate three months. Of course, that's if you choose to continue. Termination is certainly a viable option, especially in your situation." The doctor looked pained to offer her the choice, and his body language seemed to be imploring her to reject that option.

Jess refused to do so just to placate him. She understood, at least intellectually, how valuable viable offspring were to the Dazon Empire, but she had been given no choice in the matter, and she wasn't an incubator for an alien species.

In an attempt to distract herself from his imploring gaze, she forced herself to ask the question that had been hovering at the back of her mind since she had started to reluctantly accept the alien doctor who had arrived with the rescue party a few hours ago was telling her the truth. "So who is the father? Was it that mad scientist, Ha?" The idea chilled her, and she was certain she would lose the battle against the surging nausea creeping up the back of her esophagus for a moment.

"No, it wasn't him. Dr. Ha was methodical in his pairings, selecting the optimal genetic match for each of the women whom he experimented on from the Dazon DNA database." The doctor tapped on his tablet again, and the picture of a golden-brown alien appeared before her.

She caught her breath at the handsome male specimen before her. The skin color was a little strange, as was the fact he had no eyebrows or hair on the sides of his head, but his features were pleasing, if a bit roughhewn, and he had an impressive physique from what she could tell from the image that showed him from mid-chest upward. He wore the same silky black jumpsuit as the others, and she knew that allowed him to transition to the Mr. Bland disguise, as her friend Jada called it.

It was an apt descriptor. In his current form, there was nothing bland about him, and she was startled to realize she found him attractive. She grimaced at the thought. "He's the rapist, huh?"

Dr. Wy frowned at her. "Valkor Tosh had nothing to do with violating you, Ms. Patel. That was all on Ha and his team. Valkor is a distinguished warrior, and he had no knowledge of his DNA being used for such a purpose."

She arched a brow. "And how does that work? Someone jerked him off and didn't tell him?" She took a small bit of pleasure in the doctor's flinch at her crudity, though she wasn't entirely certain why she was being so blunt about it, other than it distracted her from the reality of the situation. Or perhaps it was because lashing out exercised her verbal control, which felt like the only kind of control she had over this crazy situation at the moment.

The doctor looked slightly offended as he touched his tablet yet again, removing the image of Valkor Tosh to bring up a picture of a laboratory that appeared to be a hybrid of alien and human technology. "Ha wasn't able to transport his full laboratory and technology with him on his supposed hiatus when he sneaked here to Earth, because it would have been too suspicious.

"What he did manage to bring easily allowed him to manipulate Dazon DNA. All he needed was Tosh's genetic profile, and he was able to manufacture cloned sperm. Valkor Tosh was nowhere near Earth or you when your eggs were stimulated to overproduce, and then you were implanted with the three most viable blastocysts a few days later. He was as shocked as you to learn about the existence of the offspring."

Her eyes widened with shock at the news, and then a second wave of shock hit her. "You told him? What about my patient privacy?"

Wy looked confused. "He is the male contributing genetic partner and has as much at stake as you do, Ms. Patel."

She shook her head. "Oh no he doesn't. He's not the one who was forcibly impregnated with an alien kid. Three kids," she corrected as her eyes scanned the embryos forming in her womb when Wy brought up the image again. Damn his manipulations. It didn't matter if she was staring right at them. She wouldn't be forced to continue this experiment unless she chose to do so. "I want to go home now. My friend Jada and Inquisitor Breese are waiting for me, and I'm leaving."

Dr. Wy inclined his head. "Of course, but I hope you will permit me to monitor your progress, should you decide to continue with the pregnancy."

She was surprised that he offered no attempt to dissuade her from leaving, and she was moderately grateful for that. She got to her feet with a nod in his direction without promising anything. And then she walked quickly from the makeshift office they had set up to speak with and examine each of the four hundred women being held in this facility before they were released.

It felt amazing to walk again after spending three years in a wheelchair, and at least one good thing had come out of all this. As soon as she exited the room, she saw Jada pacing in the antechamber, while her apparently alien mate—that was the strangest concept ever, considering her friend had barely known Ryland for little more than a couple of days, but had already seemed to form a deep attachment to him—stood slightly off to the side, watching Jada's curvy form tear up the same path as she paced back and forth, her kinky curls bouncing with each step. As soon as Jada saw her, she paused midstride before turning and detouring to hug her again.

Jada hugged her in return, realizing they had exchanged quite a few in the last few hours, but it seemed to be providing a healing touch for both of them. Like her, Jada had been ravaged by Kaiser's syndrome and confined to a wheelchair until Ryland had given her the dose of nanotechnology that kept the effects of Kaiser's syndrome in check.

Jess had also taken that injection when Jada and Ryland had freed her and the other women from captivity. Had it only been a few hours ago? It seemed impossible, considering everything that had happened.

Her mind was awash with conflicting facts and confusing feelings, and she vowed to push it all out of her head for the time being. "Will you please take me home now, Jada? I can't stay here any longer."

She didn't share her bombshell news with her friend just yet. She would soon enough, but for the moment, she couldn't even bring herself to mentally phrase the idea that she was pregnant, let alone speak it aloud. Verbally acknowledging it gave the idea credence, and though she didn't really believe they were lying to her any longer, she still wanted to confirm it with more conventional, human methods before she spoke of it or tried to decide what to do about the situation in which she found herself.

# About Aurelia

Aurelia Skye is the pen name Kit Tunstall uses when writing science fiction romance. It's simply a way to separate the myriad types of stories she writes so readers know what to expect with each "author."

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Website

# About Juno

Juno Wells grew up on Florida's Space Coast, watching the shuttles take off from Cape Canaveral. When she hit college, her childhood fantasies about space travel turned highly romantic. Now her mind reels with space adventures of fantastic alien lords in distant galaxies, and the earth women they love.

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Wells' stories explore the complex, sensual relationships between inhabitants of different star systems. There are always happy endings just as there is always a new world to explore.

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Have a comment? Make first contact with Juno at authorjunowells@gmail.com.

# Station Commander's Surrogate
# Blurb

Piper fled Olympus Station with a broken heart, finding solace in the far reaches of the galaxy as an exobotanist breeding rare plants. She left behind an unspoken love and a cruel sister, who enjoyed making her suffer. Eight years later, the last person she expects to hear from is her sister's husband, especially bearing the news her estranged sister is near death, and her baby needs a womb to continue developing after Pippa's passing. Somehow, she finds herself agreeing to act as a surrogate and steels herself to face the man she's never stopped loving—the man who married her sister and never realized she existed years ago. Things have changed, and as she learns the truth about Weston and Pippa's miserable marriage, old feelings she thought dead return. He seems to be falling for her too, but can she let herself love Weston again, or is it too late for them?

> Books in the Olympus Station Series:
> 
> Station Commander's Surrogate
> 
> Alien Prince's Secret Baby
> 
> Security Agent's Alien Bartender

# Chapter One

Piper Marston was in the middle of an extremely delicate step required for the Anjovian fern propagation when her comm beeped to indicate she had an incoming message. Since she couldn't set down the equipment, she wasn't able to intercept or reject it in time. She had only a brief few seconds of warning that the missive came from Olympus Station to brace herself.

She didn't want to talk to anyone who lived there, since her father had transferred to Excelsin three years ago with his promotion. She certainly had nothing to say to Pippa, even though they were sisters. "Barely," she muttered under her breath as she braced herself to see her selfish sister's face fill the screen.

Instead, she caught her breath as her brother-in-law's face appeared before her instead. She hadn't seen Weston—or Pippa for that matter—in four years, since Wesley's funeral. When Pippa had made it clear Piper wasn't wanted even at her little nephew's interment, she boarded a transport to return to the Greer Rare Plant Breeding Facility and hadn't looked back.

She braced herself again, wondering what Weston wanted. Considering she hadn't seen him in four years, she shouldn't have been so easily able to read the lines of stress etched into his face, or see the sadness in his eyes. Perhaps it was because his expression was similar to the last one she'd seen him wear, when he was grieving his son's death. She decided that was the best explanation for her, not wanting to delve deeper or consider the possibility that she remembered that much about the man she'd loved long before her sister deliberately seduced and married him to spite Piper.

"What do you want, Weston?" Her tone wasn't exactly gracious, and she was girding herself as though she was going to battle. She couldn't risk leaving herself vulnerable to him. He wouldn't actively hurt her, but his indifference in previous years had been enough to do so more than once.

If possible, his face drew even tighter. "Sorry to disturb you, Piper, but I have news for you."

She nodded. "What would that be?" The news must have something to do with Pippa, since she wasn't calling herself. Not that she ever did, but Piper didn't either.

"There was a freak accident today with a malfunctioning lift, and Pippa was crushed in it."

She blinked, looking for some trace of sadness or grief. There was perhaps a little dart, but nothing to label as mourning. "I see. When is her funeral?" Not that she intended to attend.

"She isn't dead yet, Piper, but I need you here."

She arched a brow. "Pippa wants to see me?" She couldn't hide the shock and disbelief in her tone.

He hesitated for a second before shaking his head. "No, I mean, I don't know. She's in a coma, and our doctor doesn't think she's going to wake. Right now, she's keeping her alive strictly with machines."

Piper frowned. "Why is she doing that if there's no hope?"

Weston let out a heavy sigh. "Pippa is three months pregnant, and there's still a chance we might be able to save her baby."

Her frown deepened. "What does this have to do with me?" A kernel of dread made her stomach clench.

"You are identical twins, even though you don't look alike."

She snorted before she could think better of it. "That's because she couldn't stand to look like me. I'm not the one who wasted my inheritance from our grandmother on plastic surgery."

He put up a hand before running it through his black hair. "Be that as it may, you're identical on the inside if not the outside. Gretel—our doctor—says that makes you an excellent candidate for a womb transplant."

She scowled. "You want me to offer up my body to host your child for the next how-many-ever months?" She sounded gruff and nonplussed, which was almost the exact opposite of how she really felt. The thought of carrying Weston's baby was one of her long-held dreams, at least back when she'd still been in love with him. Now, she was over that, of course. And the other part of the fantasy would've been her baby, not her sister's. "I don't think I can do that."

He sighed heavily. "I understand, but I wanted to check with you before I authorize Gretel to remove life support for both."

Something about the way he said that sent a lurch through her chest. Part of it was on behalf of the helpless infant who might survive if she was willing to participate in their science experiment. The other part was a sharp pang of grief that struck her as she recalled the lifeless body of Wesley in the glass tube. Her sweet nephew had gone too soon, and she could vividly remember Weston's obvious grief. Even Pippa had been suffering at that point—though it hadn't kept her from behaving like a horrible bitch.

But that was behind her, four years in the past, and no longer relevant to the present. If she agreed to do this, she would be doing it for Weston and his child, not for her sister. "How long do I have to get there?"

"The sooner the better, though Gretel thinks we can hold off a few days while you're traveling."

She frowned as her mind whirled. "Don't you need some kind of special permit for this sort of thing? I mean, we aren't partners, so..."

Weston nodded. "Your father is seeing to that."

If anyone could expedite and push it through the Coalition's Reproductive Board, and their mountain of red tape, it would be the admiral. She could well imagine how excited he would be at the thought of a new grandchild, having been extremely close to Wesley. That was another reason that she opened her mouth and said, "Okay, I guess I'll be there as soon as I can."

Obvious relief crossed his face for a moment, and then his expression settled into one that was harder to read. "Thank you. I know what a sacrifice this is, Piper."

She heaved a sigh, looking at the Anjovian fern. She'd spent the last three weeks prepping it for this delicate process, and there were still myriad steps involved. She hoped one of her colleagues could step in and take over the project. It was difficult to walk away from the project that she had been so excited to plan, but the fern meant little when compared to Weston's child. "I'll leave as soon as I can arrange things on my end."

After arranging a transport that would pick her up in the next few hours, Weston rang off, and the screen went dark. Piper stared at the plant and equipment in her hands, but didn't see the delicate fronds. Instead, she imagined her own body ripening with someone else's child, and a shiver went down her spine. She wasn't entirely certain if it was fully apprehension, or perhaps a slight touch of anticipation.

Anticipation strictly for experiencing what it was like to bring life into the world, she clarified to herself immediately. Without an officially recognized partner, she would never get a permit to reproduce. Being stationed at Greer, which was toward the ass-end of the galaxy, and surrounded by people who were just as studious about plants as she was, her odds of finding a partner any time in the near future were grim. She'd deliberately chosen to immerse herself in her work and not worry about finding a partner or having a child, but now the opportunity was before her.

It was going to be bewildering to suddenly wake up in a couple of days and find herself pregnant. Not just a little pregnant, but three months along. She couldn't help wondering what that would do to her body as she carefully finished the step she was working on for the frond before setting aside everything.

She wasn't vain by any means, but she did worry about how it would change things for her. She was already on the curvy side, and having a child would probably exacerbate that. It was a small and inconsequential thing about which to worry, so she shoved it aside as soon as she admitted to herself she was focusing on that to avoid her real fear.

What if she hadn't completely gotten over Weston as she thought she had? What if those old feelings still lingered, and she couldn't hide them when she was in close proximity? He had never noticed her before, and he certainly wouldn't now as he mourned the loss of his wife. Opening herself to that situation was begging for a broken heart, and she had weathered that once. She couldn't imagine facing it again.

Deciding she would just have to keep herself in check and remind herself at every opportunity that loving Weston was a terrible idea, she left her lab and went down the hall. She found her boss in his own lab, and he bore scratches on his face and a deep puncture wound on his arm that indicated he'd gone a few rounds with a Volumbrian vulturapod. The plant was currently subdued in a lush environment encased by a glass dome, looking completely benign and hiding the monster that was inside. A bit like her sister, she couldn't help thinking.

"What?" Graham sounded grouchy as he wrapped a bandage around his arm.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I need to take some time off." As quickly as possible, she explained the situation to him, unsurprised when he immediately agreed that she should go, but marginally surprised when he volunteered to finish propagating the Anjovian fern. He professed a strong dislike of the more tedious aspects of propagating the plants. She suspected it just lacked the adrenaline rush that he got from dealing with things like the vulturapod.

After speaking with him, she went to her quarters and quickly packed a great deal of her belongings in one bag. Staring around, she realized how sparse her possessions were, and how little time and energy she'd devoted to expanding them. Her chambers were serviceable, and she spent most of her time working or occasionally socializing with the other exobotanists if their schedules allowed. Everything that was her life fit almost completely in the bag, but she wasn't certain whether that was something to celebrate or to be worried about.

It wasn't long after that when she received another call on her comm, relaying a transport was docking with Greer Station. She moved to the elevators, riding the space elevator from the planet to the base station above, where the large ship would dock.

It was a smooth transition from the space elevator to the ship, and she was soon belted in and on her way. A synthetic offered her a drink, but she declined the robot's suggestion. All she could do was wait as the ship entered ionospace and crossed the lightyears separating her from Olympus Station, her first love, and her brother-in-law—who were one in the same.

She tried not to dwell on it, but couldn't help recalling the exact moment she'd realized she had lost Weston, though she'd never even made a play for him. It'd been a careless moment on her part. She'd been watching him avidly as he spoke with her father, who was at that time the commander of Olympus Station, and he had been second-in-command. She'd lived at Olympus Station for five years, though she'd spent the last four of them at the Coalition Academy. She'd been home for just a few months, hoping to catch his eye, but he'd caught Pippa's instead.

A malicious grin had come across Pippa's face as she stared at Piper for a moment with her gaze darting between her and Weston. She'd clearly figured out Piper wanted him, and so she decided to take him. There'd been a sick feeling in the pit of Piper's stomach as she watched Pippa cross the room to Weston and turn on the charm. The first time the commander smiled at her, Piper's heart had broken, and she'd accepted that was it. Shortly thereafter, she had transferred to Greer.

Now she was heading back, and things had changed again. She refused to indulge in the hope that maybe she could finally catch his eye. That opportunity was over, and she no longer cared to do so anyway. He'd been her sister's husband, and regardless of Pippa's motives for approaching Weston, they must've had a solid marriage, since it had lasted eight years. She had no business thinking anything else, and certainly no place fantasizing about finally capturing Weston's attention. It would be inappropriate to even try.

# Chapter Two

When the transport stopped several hours later, she stretched and walked off with her bag in her hand. Piper spent a moment staring at the docking sector, impressed by the number of people moving through. Since its construction two decades ago, Olympus Station had always been a hub for the Coalition, but had clearly grown in importance over the past four years.

As she moved carefully down the walkway, she couldn't seem to stop staring around her. There were several species of aliens she'd never seen before. A few, she could identify from having read about them, but most were new to her. They all seemed to be in a hurry, and with a purpose in mind. That reminded her she had the same, and she stopped gawking at the people around her to focus on walking straight ahead.

She'd barely reached the end of the walkway and entered the reception room when she caught sight of Weston. Her feet paused, making her stumble, but she caught herself before he could approach. She cleared her expression, or attempted to do so, and smoothed down her long, dark hair. Somehow, she managed to summon a wan smile. "It's good to see you again." It wasn't though, not under these circumstances, and not under the last one in which she had seen him.

He surprised her by giving her a light hug. "Welcome to Olympus Station."

"I've been here before," she said softly.

He nodded. "For Wesley's...service." Old pain deepened the lines in his face for a moment.

Piper nodded, barely resisting the urge to reach out and offer a comforting hand in the face of his lingering grief. "Yes, that too, but I used to be stationed here. I lived here for a little while before going to the Academy, while the admiral was still here, and then I worked in the aquaponics sector for a few months before transferring to Greer."

By his blank expression, it was obvious he didn't remember, but she wasn't surprised. She'd been too shy to try to make an impression on the dashing commander at the time, and even then, her tendency had been to fade into the background. She was on the quiet and plain side, especially compared to Pippa after her extensive plastic surgery.

He nodded again. "Forgive me, but I had forgotten."

She lifted a shoulder in a careless shrugged. "What do we do now, Weston?"

"I'll have your bags sent to your room, and if you're ready, Gretel's waiting."

She wasn't entirely surprised to be thrust right into addressing the reason she'd come, but it was still a bit unsettling. It wasn't until she entered Medical and approached her sister's bed that the enormity of what she was about to do fully sank in. Her gaze fell on Pippa's gently rounded stomach, and she swallowed a thick lump in her throat when she realized that would be her stomach the next time she woke up.

Some sentimental urge had her putting a hand on her sister's brow. Pippa felt cool to the touch, as though she was already about to exit the world. She supposed that wasn't too far from the truth as she straightened her shoulders while she stepped back, letting her hand fall back to her side. "I'm ready."

"Thank you." Weston squeezed her shoulder in a reassuring fashion. She told herself she didn't feel anything but warmth from his support. It certainly did not cause sparks of awareness to shoot through her at a highly inappropriate moment.

She turned away from him to face Gretel, who was a tall, black woman with severely arched brows dyed purple, and hair colored to match, with half cut short, and the other half bursting from her head in a curly mass. That must be the current style, though she wasn't surprised to be unfamiliar with it. They were all too busy—and isolated—at Greer to follow such trends as a rule.

After a brief introduction, Gretel led her to an alcove, so she could change out of her travel gear into a loose gown that draped artfully around her and managed to conceal most of her parts that were opened by the design when she exited the screen. Weston was still there, and it made her feel like she was standing naked in front of him despite the more-than-adequate coverage.

As Weston moved to the corner, Gretel came forward, placing a guiding hand on her shoulder to lead her to the bed. Piper climbed up and lay down, closing her eyes as a gossamer cover appeared over her. A cool breeze blew in her face and had the faint scent of pears with an underlying bitterness, like almonds.

"Just inhale and breathe deeply. Keep calm, and don't try to fight the urge to sleep."

Gretel's soothing tone only helped her relax that much faster, and Piper blinked her eyes a couple of times before things were blurry.

Her eyes were almost closed when she heard a ruckus. She snapped them open for a moment, trying to focus. Someone was yelling about this being an unauthorized procedure. She could make out that much, along with Weston's firm, even tone assuring whomever was putting up a fuss that the admiral was expediting the paperwork for the permit. She heard no more as she fell asleep.

Piper woke with a slightly fuzzy head and a general sense of discomfort coming from her abdomen. She groaned and tried to stretch, and Gretel was there a moment later. The gossamer film was gone, and she was able to focus after blinking her eyes. "Was it successful?" Her voice came out sounding harsh and raspy.

"Yes, it was." Gretel took her hand, guiding it to her own stomach. "You're now pregnant."

Piper's eyes widened as she felt the soft contours of her stomach. She wasn't as rounded as Pippa had been, but her body hadn't had a chance to adjust or expand to accommodate the growing fetus. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over her, and strong arms lifted her up as she started to gag.

Gretel held a pan for her, and she emptied the contents of her stomach until she had nothing left. Slowly, the gentle hands lowered her back to the table, and she looked up to see Weston standing above her. She hadn't expected him to be there already. "Were you here for the entire procedure?"

He nodded. "Of course I was. Considering what you're doing for Pippa's baby, that was the least I could do."

"Who was that man who was yelling?" Piper gratefully took a sip of water from the cup Gretel offered.

"Baxter Frink, the Coalition Reproductive Board rep stationed here on the station," said Weston in what was probably supposed to be a neutral tone, but was laced with distaste.

"I think—" Another wave of nausea hit her before she could verbalize the thought, and Weston lifted her gently again. She tried to vomit, but there was nothing left to bring up.

"Can you give her something?" asked Weston, sounding annoyed.

Gretel shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I've given her medication for the nausea, but this is as good as it's going to get. Her body has to adjust to a sudden influx of hormones. In a traditional pregnancy, they would gradually build up over a period of weeks before hitting the peak level around ten weeks of pregnancy. In a surrogate's case like Piper's, those hormones immediately flood her system. In fact, I had to give her a booster to ensure she had enough to retain the pregnancy."

She looked away from Weston to look down at Piper, and her expression was sympathetic. "You're going to feel lousy for at least a couple of weeks until you adjust. There's not much I can do to help in that regard. Take it easy, eat when you can, and don't get too stressed."

"Sure, no problem," said Piper as she swallowed another gag. Her body was suddenly at war with itself, or that was how it felt. In the past, she'd envied women who were authorized to reproduce, but she wasn't feeling envious at the moment. She was feeling downright disgruntled and perhaps even violated by the tiny parasite inside her body.

It was amazing how quickly her emotions could change, and she briefly wondered if it was attributable to hormones when they swung the other direction a moment later, as Gretel showed her a scan on the screen. It was a little blob of moving bits, but it was clearly a human child. A wave of maternal instinct washed over her, and she cupped a hand to her swollen stomach. "That's amazing."

"She sure is."

"It's a girl?" asked Weston. He sounded enthusiastic.

Gretel nodded. "And she's growing inside you, dependent on you, Piper. Don't be alarmed if you don't bond right away, or if feel like you're standing on the outside looking in with this pregnancy. It's all thrust upon you quickly, and you haven't had a chance to adjust to anything, even the emotional aspect."

Piper appreciated the words of reassurance, because she needed them. It was awe-inspiring to see the scan of the little one inside her, but that did not lead to an immediate connection to the pregnancy. It still didn't feel real, even with her stomach swollen and showing proof.

After that, Gretel observed her for a little while before releasing her to Weston. She carefully climbed out of bed with his arm around her waist in a supportive fashion. She couldn't help but glance at the bed where her sister had lain. It was empty now, and she shot him a questioning look.

He shook his head. "She passed away in the middle of the procedure even with the life-support. Gretel was able to extract the child before Pippa's life sign cessation had catastrophic effects on her."

Piper examined her emotions, but still found nothing she could label as grief. Perhaps a tiny flash of sadness, but mostly, she just felt relief. It was a horrible reaction, which spurred her to feel guilt, but she couldn't deny that she felt safer without Pippa around. Despite the last four years being virtually a cold war, she wasn't sorry to know there would be no more resumption of the campaign of terror and pain her sister had inflicted on her for most of their lives together.

Weston led her out of Medical and down a few corridors, into an area that was clearly reserved for staff. He paused in front of the utilitarian door and pressed a button. It opened a moment later, and he gestured for her to go inside. "Do you know how to calibrate the biometrics?"

She nodded. "I'm sure I remember." They didn't bother with them at Greer, but it was a smaller, more informal place.

"Are you hungry?"

She started to say she wasn't after all that vomiting, but a sudden turning of her stomach followed by a grumble of hunger contradicted her before she could reply. Her eyes widened, and she said, "I'm starving. How did that happen with all that vomiting?

He shrugged. "I'm not sure, but I remember Pippa had an appetite like that sometimes after vomiting too."

To her surprise, he gently pushed her inside and came in with her, going straight to the synthicator. "What would you like?"

She was too surprised by his presence in her room, and his obvious intent to synthicate food for her, so she just shrugged. "Whatever."

She sat down at the table nearby, watching Weston and trying to be discreet about doing so. She'd never expected him to invite himself for dinner with her, let alone be the one to synthicate it for her. If he was intending to be this hands-on in their interactions, her resolve would need to be super strong to avoid crumbling and giving in to emotions she shouldn't feel.

# Chapter Three

As Weston worked the synthicator, he asked himself what he was doing standing in the quarters he'd reserved for Piper. The plan was to leave her at her door with the information that he was across the hall if she needed anything. That was the safest way to handle the situation. He'd planned to be as hands-off as possible with Piper due to her connection to Pippa.

He hadn't expected her to be so attractive. She had probably been that way years ago, when he last remembered seeing her, but he had been fully occupied with thoughts of his recently deceased son, and he hadn't noticed anything of the sort. He'd barely been aware of anyone's presence there. Now, he was admiring her and appreciating the sweet curves of her body.

He didn't think it was just because he'd been celibate for almost seven years—except for the night Pippa claimed he had gotten drunk and forced her to have sex with him, which led to her conceiving the baby. He still didn't buy that story, because though he had drunk that night at an official function, it had been a single glass of wine. Unless someone drugged him, there was no plausible explanation for why he would've lost his memory and behaved in such a horrible fashion.

He tried not to think about it as he turned to Piper, presenting her with a tray of various assortments that he hoped would please her upset stomach. "Wesley used to like these when he was having tummy issues."

Her face softened for a moment, but there was a sharp, jagged line of grief bisecting her mouth and dragging down the corners of her lips. She reached out to put a hand on his tentatively before quickly withdrawing it. "I never really got a chance to tell you how sorry I was about Wesley's passing."

Weston cleared his throat, swallowing the familiar lump of moisture that always came when he thought of his child. "Thank you. If I recall, Pippa wasn't very welcoming, and I didn't get a chance to say much of anything." Their altercation had briefly registered, but he'd been too immersed in grief to pay attention or try to resolve any friction between the sisters at that point.

He turned back to the synthicator to serve himself a helping of food before joining her at the table. She looked startled, but he tried not to take it personally as he flashed a brief smile. "We should probably get better acquainted, don't you think?"

She opened her mouth, looking like she was going to say something, but then closed it again and settled for taking a drink instead. He wondered what thought had crossed her mind, but she never voiced it. She just shrugged.

He cut into his synthetic steak as she carefully sipped clear broth. "What do you do at Greer?"

"I'm an exobotanist, and Greer specializes in trying to revive and save endangered and extinct plants from all over the galaxy." Her brown eyes shone with excitement as she started talking about the various plants. There was true passion in her expression, which had the uncomfortable effect of making his groin ache with desire as she talked about her beloved Anjovian ferns.

Weston shifted in his seat and tried to ask intelligent questions, though he wasn't certain he was successful. Somehow, a few minutes passed before there was a lag in conversation again. "As soon as you feel up to it, you can work in aquaponics. The captain of the sector is looking forward to working with you. You come highly recommended and have good credentials."

She blushed faintly. "Thank you for saying so, Commander."

"I think you should call me Weston," he said gently.

Her cheeks turned brighter red. "Of course. I think I just slipped into work mode for a moment. It's difficult think of us as...family." There was a note of longing in her tone.

It sent a shiver down his spine, but he cautioned himself not to read too much into it. She was clearly missing the connection, but that might've been with Pippa and nothing to do with him. Abruptly, before he could think better of it, he asked, "Why did Pippa look so different from you, Piper?"

Her expression chilled. "Why don't you ask her?" She blinked and looked devastated for a moment. "I'm sorry. I forgot..." She trailed off with a half-shrug. "I guess I should say why didn't you ask her?"

Weston lifted his shoulder. "I did once, but she made it clear that was something she didn't want to discuss."

"I'm sure." Piper leaned closer to him, trailing a finger down her cheek.

At first, he wasn't certain what she was doing, but then he saw the faint scar. "What happened?"

"When I was seven years old, Pippa attacked me with a laser scalpel she stole from Mother's medical kit, planning to change my face enough so that I didn't look like her. She intensely resented having a doppelgänger in the world, and she hated me because she thought our father loved me more. I doubt it was true, but that was what she believed." Her lips curved in what could be a rueful smile, but looked bitter too. "Mother was more worried about the calibration of her scalpel being affected than my face, but she was always more devoted to her career than us."

Weston was appalled, but not entirely surprised. He'd seen some of Pippa's rages over the years and had been on the receiving end more than once. "Why didn't you ever get the scar removed?"

She took a moment to sip her drink before answering. "It was a reminder to myself to never trust her." She licked her lips, appearing to gather her thoughts. "When we were of age, and she received her inheritance, she decided to change her face so that it looked nothing like mine. I suppose she decided her face was too plain and ordinary anyway, so she went for exotic and beautiful. The money gave her the effect she wanted."

Weston knew better than to voice his opinion that Piper's quiet attractiveness was far more appealing than Pippa's perfectly sculpted face. It wasn't just her face, or even her curves, but also her attitude. She was so much calmer and more restive to be around than he'd ever felt with Pippa. As a younger man, Pippa's exotic beauty had enthralled him briefly, but he wondered how his younger self could have missed Piper's quiet loveliness back then, even accounting for his shallower tastes in the past.

He hated contrasting them together, especially since Pippa had been his wife, but she kept coming up short in the comparisons. She hadn't been his wife for at least four years, at least in any form besides name only.

Sex with her had stopped shortly after Wesley's first birthday, as they'd grown ever more distant, though they had maintained the charade of a shared bedroom for a few years afterward—a bedroom he'd avoided as much as possible by working late and leaving early each day. After Wesley's passing, she had moved into a separate room next to his, apparently deciding there was no reason to keep up any pretense once Wesley was gone.

He was certain she had been unfaithful many times, but was apathetic about her infidelity. He hadn't bothered with a divorce, being too busy and truly not caring enough to get rid of the albatross around his neck. Her presence had protected him from other women who would circle around if he was single, and she seemed to show no interest in divorcing him. She'd liked the status of being the station commander's wife too much to give up that role, he was sure.

Realizing he'd let the silence last too long, and she was giving him an odd look, he asked, "How did you get along later, after the scar incident?"

Her eyes moved away from his for a moment, and she sighed heavily. "Not well. If Pippa could hurt me, she was determined to do so. It was a game for her, and the worst thing she ever did was steal—" She broke off, her skin going bright red for a moment as her gaze darted away. When she looked back at him, her expression was carefully blank, but he was certain that was a mask to hide the emotions running through her. She yawned with a hint of melodrama. "I'm really tired, Weston."

He'd only finished about half of his meal, but took the hint graciously. He got to his feet and cleared both of their trays, stacking them in the demoleculator before heading to the door. "I'm just across the hall if you need anything, Piper." He paused once more at the door's biometric panel. "Don't forget to reprogram this to recognize your biometrics."

She nodded, yawning again. This time, it looked genuine, and he felt a sliver of guilt for having delayed her rest, even if it was to feed her. "Sleep well."

She murmured something, and he nodded before leaving. He stood in the corridor for a moment as the door closed behind him, listening until he heard the beeps on the other side that indicated she was recalibrating the biometrics to respond to her hand and iris scan. He could move away and feel easier about her safety. Not that he had any reason to suspect she would be in danger, other than the fact that Olympus Station was the equivalent of a huge city, where people were always coming and going—and some of those people had ill intentions.

Weston was just about to go to bed a few hours later when he heard the chime of the door. He walked over and opened it with his palm, eyes widening at the sight of Piper standing on the other side. He moved aside so she could step inside, wondering why she'd come to his room wearing only a bathrobe. Perhaps she had something on underneath it, but it wasn't immediately obvious.

His heart skipped a beat for a moment as he contemplated maybe she was there to offer him a very different sort of solace. He was torn between his desire to accept, and the decency that had kept him faithful to an unfaithful wife for the past seven years. It was unseemly to break his celibacy with her sister, wasn't it? "What can I do for you?" He braced himself to mount a gentle rejection, especially since he didn't want to reject her.

She bent over then, making it obvious she wasn't there with seduction on her mind. Before he could think better of it, Weston picked her up to set her on the couch. "What's wrong?"

Her brow was dotted with perspiration, and she was shaking. Her skin was pale, yet clammy to the touch. "I don't know, but I don't feel right."

He rushed to page Gretel on his comm. Her face filled the screen on his wrist a moment later, and she looked like she was ready for bed as well. "I need you in my room, Gretel." To her credit, she didn't protest or take time to ask questions. She simply nodded and rang off, and he knew she would be there shortly.

As he waited, he knelt on the floor beside Piper, smoothing the hair off her forehead and dabbing at her brow with a cloth as they waited for the doctor's arrival. He felt lousy putting her through this, and he briefly contemplated the idea of suggesting they terminate the experiment.

Since that would mean the loss of Pippa's child, he held back. He might not be the father—and would in fact bet serious money that he wasn't—but couldn't bear the thought of the poor child expiring if there was a chance to save it. Though it was connected to Pippa, it was still a developing life, and after losing Wesley, he couldn't stand idly by and allow that to happen to another child if there was a way to save it.

Unless it was risking Piper's health, and then he wouldn't hesitate to suggest termination.

Gretel arrived a moment later, indicating she had run from her quarters to his. He authorized the computer to allow her entry, and she burst inside with a bag in her hand. She came straight to them, gently nudging Weston aside with her hip so she could kneel in the spot he'd been occupying. She ran a scanner across Piper's face and down her body, spending a moment scanning her abdomen and lower area.

"Am I losing it?" Piper seemed appalled by the idea.

He was reassured by that reaction as he took her hand. "If you are, I appreciate you trying."

As her expression softened slightly, Gretel spoke to both of them. "She seems to be settling in just fine. It's still more of the adjustment." She turned to look at him. "I suggest keeping her close, Commander. I don't see anything to really worry about at the moment, but Ms. Marston's going to feel awful for at least a few days, and probably a couple of weeks. If you're nearby, you can help ease the process for her. Pamper her as much as possible."

He breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. "I can do that for sure, Gretel."

Gretel turned her attention to Piper. "I know you feel bad, but this will pass. Just do your best to endure, and the same rules apply as before—get lots of rest and low stress. Eat when you can."

"Weston already fed me," she said through slightly trembling lips. There was warmth in her gaze as she looked in his direction.

It made his heart race and sent warmth spiraling through his chest. Something about her look was enchanting, though he doubted there was any intent from her for it to be. She was obviously too miserable in her suffering to be thinking about anything except her physical state. And his thoughts should center there as well.

Gretel left them a short time later, and he returned to the couch to pick her up. When she protested, he frowned. "She told you to rest, and I'm perfectly capable of carrying you."

She frowned, looking doubtful. "I'm too heavy."

He couldn't help a laugh. "You feel like a feather to me." Ignoring her skeptical look, because he was telling her the truth—it felt amazing to hold her, but certainly not any kind of burden that he couldn't handle–he took her down the hall. Without thinking about it, he bypassed Pippa's room and went straight to his, arranging Piper across his bed and pulling the covers over her.

He was moved to kiss her on the forehead, but averted at the last moment and hoped she didn't notice the awkward hesitation. He cleared his throat. "Get some rest, and let me know if you need anything." At her hesitant nod, he turned and left the room, leaving the panel open slightly so he could hear her if she called him in the middle of the night.

He bypassed Pippa's room, not even able to think about sleeping in there with all her things still in the space, and went to the couch, where he stretched out. His thoughts were preoccupied, and sleep was a long time coming as he listened for cries or requests for help that never came.

# Chapter Four

She was obviously in his room, but why? As he'd carried her down the hall, she'd seen another room. It was feminine, and a complete contrast the masculine decorations around her. Piper couldn't know for certain, but inferred that had been Pippa's room. Why didn't he leave her there? She was happy he hadn't, since she didn't want to be surrounded by her sister's things, but it was definitely disconcerting to be in the commander's bed.

The bed that smelled so much like him that she snuggled in deeper and moaned softly. His scent surrounded her, seducing her senses, and it was almost like he was holding her in his arms.

Was he trying to hide that they had had separate rooms? If so, why would he bother? Piper wasn't likely to think less of Pippa than she already did, and though she might've been dying from curiosity to know the state of their marriage, she would never ask such a probing question. She wouldn't have even asked anything about why they had separate rooms if he'd led her into Pippa's.

She tried not to think about it, but then her thoughts wandered to him again. With his scent imprinted in her nose, and snuggled in his bed, she couldn't resist the briefest fantasy of imagining him sliding in to join her. It wasn't even a sexual fantasy, since she felt so awful. It was simply an embrace of comfort, where he crawled up behind her, put one of his arms around her waist, and held her with the other one as he snuggled against her. She would place her head under his chin to curve against him, letting his embrace soothe her to sleep. Eventually, she was able to muster enough of her imagination to make it feel almost real and doze off.

She woke sometime later, and her stomach was churning again. She was hot and sweaty, and her breasts hurt like they had never in her life. A clenching in her womb sent dull pains through her abdomen, and she could feel bile rising in her throat. "Weston?" She croaked out his name in a voice that she was certain he couldn't hear.

Nevertheless, he appeared in just a few seconds, his concern obvious as he turned on the lights. "What's wrong?"

She gestured to her mouth that she clamped her hand over, desperate to hold back the wave of bile. He swooped forward and lifted her into his arms, carrying her across the hall to the bathroom. She leaned forward as soon as she was on the floor, heaving into the commode.

Piper was only moderately aware of him lifting hair off her face to move behind her ears before forming a crude ponytail with his hands to hold it out of the way while she retched. His other hand was a soothing and comforting weight against her back as he slowly stroked up and down her vertebrae while she continued to dry heave into the toilet.

When the last of the nausea had faded, he helped her brush her teeth, doing most of the work for her, before he picked her up and carried her back down the hall. Once again, he took her to his room. She snuggled into the bed as he laid her down, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. He froze, and there were alarms ringing in the back of her mind, but she was incapable of listening to them at the moment. "You're just as kind as I always thought you'd be. Knew you were something special, Weston..."

She trailed off, letting sleep start to take over again. Her eyes felt like little lead weights weighed them down, and she didn't try to fight the urge to close them. Though she didn't want to do anything to ruin the tender moment between herself and Weston, she couldn't stave off the need to rest any longer.

# Chapter Five

He was afraid to leave her for the rest of the night. Part of him was tempted to slide into the bed beside her. Technically, there was enough room, but it would've been a gross invasion of her personal space, especially under the circumstances. As much as he just wanted to provide a comforting embrace to hold her, she was certain to misinterpret his motives if she woke up with his arms around her.

Instead, he consigned himself to the chair beside her bed. It was wickedly uncomfortable and put a crick in his neck, but that was a small sacrifice to watch over the miserable woman lying in his bed. Her misery was indirectly his fault, so he owed her sentry duty.

He would've done the same for any woman who might've been the surrogate, but he found it physically impossible to tear himself away from her side as the rest of the night passed. Sleep never came for him, but as the environmental controls instituted an artificial sunrise later that morning, she stretched and slowly opened her eyes. She still looked pale, but not as bad as last night. She seemed startled to see him. "Morning."

He nodded at her. "Are you hungry?" After a brief hesitation, she nodded. Weston got to his feet. "Let me bring you something."

"You don't have to..."

He was already out of the room before she could finish the sentence, not wanting to stick around for her to tell him he didn't have to wait on her, or bring her breakfast in bed. He knew he didn't have to, but he wanted to. If he told her that, it could lead to awkward questions that he didn't want to answer. He didn't understand his reaction himself, so how could he put it in such a way that wouldn't send her running with fright, or make her think less of him for being attracted to his dead wife's sister?

He tried to shove aside all thoughts of the situation as he synthicated her food before returning to her.

She smiled at him, and it brightened the room better than the environmental controls ever could. "Pippa must've been so spoiled," she said lightheartedly, but with an undertone of envy.

He scowled. "I never did this for Pippa."

Her eyes widened, and she recoiled slightly. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head as he carefully placed the tray on her lap. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't've snapped at you, but it's true. I might've done this for Pippa a few times in the beginning of our marriage, but I don't remember. Things quickly soured, and she seemed to lose interest in me as easily as I lost interest in her. Wesley kept us together..."

She seemed to be maintaining a carefully neutral expression as she poked at the fluffy eggs. "You were having marital problems?"

With a harsh laugh, he returned to the chair he'd occupied all night, once again noticing how uncomfortable it was against his lumbar area, and the way it pinched his neck. "That's an understatement. We were happy enough for the first few months, I guess, but then she gradually grew more demanding as the pregnancy progressed. I'd say she changed, but I suspect she was simply maintaining a veneer before that slowly crumbled away."

Piper nodded as she took a bite of the eggs, and then nodded again with obvious approval. "These are perfect for my stomach right now."

He waved a hand in acknowledgment. "We made it work for a while, but we had to with Wesley on the way, and then after his birth, it became about him rather than us." He wasn't certain why he admitted that to Piper when he'd never told anyone else the true state of their marriage. It was cathartic to admit the truth, even if it was a bit uncomfortable to be admitting it to her sister. "When he died, we completely fell apart."

"That must've really made things difficult, Weston." Sympathy shone in her brown eyes.

He cleared his throat again as the familiar lump took residence there. "It was hellish in so many ways. At the end of our marriage, we had nothing left to fight for or to focus on."

She frowned as she took a sip of juice. "Why were you still together four years later then?"

He let out an uneven sigh. "Convenience, lack of time...that sort of thing, I guess. I'm not sure why she stuck around, but I didn't spend enough time around her to be bothered by the fact that we were still officially married."

He grimaced as he recalled her claim that he had forced her to have sex with him and became pregnant with his child. He still couldn't imagine doing such a thing even in his most drunken state, but the slight possibility existed, and it made him sick to his stomach to think about doing such a thing to Pippa. He might not have loved her for a long time, but she'd still been his wife, and that would've been the ultimate act of betrayal.

"I'm truly sorry, Weston." She placed a comforting hand on his knee for just a moment.

He had to ball his hands into fists to keep from taking her hand to bring it closer to him, wrapping his fingers around hers, and holding her with steady pressure. Being this close to her while she was in the bed was suddenly too tempting, and he got to his feet. His plan was to leave, but instead, he ended up sitting on the bed beside her, moving closer.

He looked at her for a moment, and her eyes slowly closed. She moved just an infinitesimal distance closer to him, and he could feel his body swaying forward. They were only a few inches from kissing, but he didn't close the distance. After a moment, her eyes opened. First, they were filled with confusion that gradually cleared, before turning into shock. He could pinpoint the exact moment she realized what had almost happened by her indrawn breath and the way she pulled back.

He couldn't help himself as he reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers around it. She seemed like she would tug away for moment, but gradually relaxed, though she didn't grip his hand with hers. "I wonder how things would've been...?"

After hesitation after silence, she prompted, "What things?"

He cleared his throat. "How things would've been if I met you before Pippa?"

She stiffened and pulled her hand from his. He was certain he'd gone too far with the words, but perhaps not for the reason he'd guessed. Rather, she seemed offended for an entirely different reason when she said, "You did, but I failed to make an impression on you."

Weston wanted to deny it, but it was true. He truly couldn't call to mind any memories of Piper when she had been a younger woman stationed at Olympus Station with her father, and then later as an exobotanist in aquaponics. He frowned and shook his head. "I wish I had noticed."

Her tone was cool. "But you didn't. You noticed Pippa instead, which was exactly what she wanted."

He frowned. "Pippa was trying to get my attention?"

Piper looked sad for a moment as she nodded. "It was definitely her intent. She knew it would—" She broke off with a click of her teeth together. "Never mind. It doesn't matter anymore."

He frowned. "It matters to me. Was Pippa deliberately manipulating me?"

Piper just shrugged. "If she was, I guess it worked." She yawned again, though it was difficult to tell if it was real or fake. "I think I need more sleep, Weston."

He wanted to argue, or to press for the reason why Pippa would've tried so hard to get his attention—maybe even ask why had Piper never attempted to—but couldn't ignore the very real possibility she was exhausted. He took the tray she had partially cleared and left his room, uncertain if having her ensconced in his bed was a comfort or a source of insanity as he dwelt on having her so close, yet so untouchable.

# Chapter Six

She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep until he was gone, waiting until she heard the door close behind him before opening them again. She'd definitely grown careless and said too much. There was no point in rehashing the past, which would have no effect on the future. Surely, she wasn't still hung up on Weston anyway, was she? Shouldn't she have outgrown that inappropriate crush by now?

If it was simply a crush, she most definitely would have done so. The problem was it hadn't been a crush. She'd genuinely cared deeply about the other man, and apparently, still did. She cared about Weston more than she should, or she wouldn't be in the situation she was in right now, with her sister's baby in her womb.

The baby she'd conceived with the man Piper couldn't get off her mind. How crazy was that? Pippa might be gone, but just barely, and even though he sounded like the marriage had been in trouble, that didn't mean he was ready to jump into a new relationship with someone else already, especially the sister of his dead wife.

The thought crept up on her without her permission that she was suddenly and deeply grateful that Pippa had gone to all the trouble and expense to have plastic surgery that altered her appearance drastically from Piper's. At least she didn't have to worry about Weston seeing her sister's face in hers. From his comments, she didn't think that was even something to worry about, but it was certainly a relief.

She shook her head in irritation at herself as she got up and moved across the quarters. Why was she thinking this way? There was absolutely no future for her with Weston, and she had to keep that in mind. She was here to do a job that would be finished in a few short months, and then she would return to her life at Greer. It was a perfectly good life, and she was content with it, so why was she questioning things now? Why was she longing for a future she'd given up on years ago, especially with the way it would play out now?

The next morning, she left his room and found Weston waiting for her in the kitchenette. "Would you like breakfast?" he asked.

She thought about it for half a second before shaking her head. Her stomach was far too upset still to hold down anything. "I just wanted to stretch my legs a bit and let you have your bed back." She headed toward the door, intent on returning to the quarters he'd assigned her.

Him clearing his throat made her stop and look at him. "Gretel said not have you be alone right now, if you remember?"

She nodded. "I remember."

He cleared his throat again as he got to his feet and walked over to stand near her. He was a perfectly respectable distance away, but it still made her heart gallop crazily. "I thought you might as well stay with me."

Creeping dread settled in her stomach, and she frowned so hard her face hurt. "I can't put you out of your bed all that time, Weston."

His eyes darkened for a moment, and he seemed on the verge of saying something. When he blinked, his expression cleared. "I have a spare room."

The dread settled deeper in her stomach, spurring a surge of nausea. "I really don't think I could sleep in Pippa's room."

"Let me show you something please." With those words, he started walking down the hallway from which she had come.

Suppressing a sigh, and trying to figure out how she could be forceful about rejecting the room without hurting his feelings, she drew to a halt at the doorway of the cleared room. It was sparse and utilitarian, including very little, except a blanket with Olympus Station's logo embroidered on it. "What happened to everything?"

"I boxed it up last night and had it put in storage this morning." He waved a hand around the room but didn't enter. "You can decorate it yourself this way, and however you'd like."

"Thank you, Weston." It was still too cozy, and far too close to him, but she couldn't think of a gracious way to decline. Piper wasn't even certain she really wanted to. From a strictly medical point-of-view, she liked the idea of having someone close enough to hear her shout if she had problems. From an emotional viewpoint, she appreciated the link as well, though she had a feeling she could appreciated it too much if she wasn't careful.

He nodded. "There're a couple of shops here on the station that can help you get anything you might need. Use my credit account to get whatever you'd like."

She managed to smile. "That's very kind of you, but I do have my own credit account."

His gaze dropped to her stomach, with its barely visible protrusion. "And you're here to do me an amazing favor, so I won't quibble with you about the cost of that. Just use my credits."

With a sigh, she nodded. There wasn't much she could imagine needing anyway, since it was only temporary quarters. "There are two doors." She made the observation aloud as she moved closer. The first door proved to be a small closet, currently empty, but the second one opened into what looked like a small room between this bedroom and Weston's.

He entered the bedroom, standing a few feet away from her—and far too close to the bed for her comfort. "This used to be Wesley's room, and I plan to use it as the nursery. That way we can both get to her whenever she needs us."

She stared briefly at the room, which was small, but would work for the purpose. "I think that's a good idea, but I won't be here for that part. Pippa's old room would probably make a good place for a nanny."

For a moment, he looked wounded, and then his expression cleared and went blank. "Of course. That's a good suggestion. I have work to do, but if you need anything, please let me know. Otherwise, I hope you'll take it easy today."

With her stomach rebelling, she doubted she had any choice in the matter. "Thank you, Weston."

It was only when he left that she allowed herself a ragged exhalation as she ran a hand through her messy ponytail. She thought she had hurt his feelings, though she couldn't be certain. She squirmed with guilt, but also a hint of annoyance. Why would he assume she would care about the nursery position, and had he really meant to include her in his plans for caring for the child after her birth?

If so, she needed to let him know now that wasn't happening. There was no way she would settle for the same kind of lackluster arrangement he'd had with Pippa, and she wasn't going to sacrifice her best years playing nanny to her niece. She deserved to be happy, find a man to love, and have a family of her own.

The words sounded good, but as she laid down to take a nap on the bed that still eerily felt like Pippa's despite a complete scrubbing of her presence, she wasn't entirely sure she believed them. If he asked, it was entirely possible she would capitulate and sacrifice her dreams to raise his child. She wanted to think that was impossible these days, and that she had grown beyond such idiotic nobility, but couldn't be certain of her own behavior. That was why it was important to draw boundaries and keep them in place before such a situation could arise.

The next two weeks passed, alternating between slow and fast. When she was feeling ill, the days seemed to drag on forever. The first few days were particularly awful, because all she seemed to do was vomit. What little food she managed to keep down wasn't enough to sustain her, and Gretel ended up supplementing her with a special blend of vitamins.

Finally, when her stomach started to calm down, and her lethargy was under control, she was able to eat again. For the last two days, she'd kept down all of her meals without anything besides residual nausea upon waking.

She had also spent more time with Weston than was probably wise, but he wasn't there this morning, having left early to greet a diplomatic envoy. That worked to her advantage, because she had a feeling he would object if he knew she planned to leave his quarters today to explore the station.

Being trapped in this room for two weeks was enough to drive her insane, and she wanted to see how things had changed. She needed a breath of fresh air, even if it was recirculated air that had gone through the oxygen scrubber system. She just needed something besides the familiar walls encasing her, and she finally felt physically strong enough to look for a change in scenery.

She set out shortly after finishing her breakfast, which settled happily in her stomach without any sign of coming up. She left the area that housed the crew and made her way into the main part of the station. It was fashioned like a large city, complete with transports, and she took the tube transport to the downtown area, which featured all of the retail shops, most of the restaurants, and a colorful mix of all species.

The station had certainly grown during the past seven-and-a-half years, and parts were completely unfamiliar as she wandered the shops arranged in open-air fashion, occasionally pausing to visit with someone, or make an impulsive purchase. She spent almost an hour at a maternity shop, since that was a dire need. Her stomach had grown considerably in the past two weeks, though Gretel had told her it was normal for her body to play "catch up," and her weight gain would stabilize soon. Either way, her current clothes were too tight.

She discovered it was easier to use Weston's credits, since her account hadn't been transferred to Olympus Station yet. It was a little galling, but she decided it wasn't that big of an issue. As the station commander, he could probably easily afford the clothes and small luxuries in which she indulged, and she was giving up her body for six months. In that light, it didn't seem so bad to let him buy her a few things.

Piper was moving through the stalls when a purple hand landed on her shoulder. She stopped and looked to see a small alien with long yellow hair holding out a sparkling charm. She smiled. "It's lovely."

The alien woman twirled it until it made a whistling sound. "Oh, and loud too." She discreetly rubbed her ear with her free hand, since she couldn't bring up the other one due to the woman still holding her shoulder. Carefully, she tried to ease back, but the woman's grip tightened ever so slightly. She frowned at her. "Excuse me, but I have things to do."

"The charm is good luck for mothers. It will bring you a pain-free childbirth."

Piper laughed, and it was a genuine sound. "I don't have to worry about that. Gretel assures me she has highly effective nerve inhibitors available."

The alien woman appeared to frown and jiggled it again. "For luck."

Since she wasn't going to be able to escape without making the purchase, she finally nodded. "How much?" At the alien's price, she told her to bill the commander and took the charm, preparing to slip it into her pocket.

The alien woman frowned and handed her a string of what looked like leather. She shuddered at the idea, knowing it had to be fake. Harvesting animals for their parts had been illegal for a long time, at least in human history. Perhaps it was different with that woman's species? Not wanting to examine the idea too much, she took it with a sickly smile. "What's this?"

The woman mimicked looping the charm through it, so Piper did so. When directed, she tied it around her neck, and the charm fell at an awkward place, resting just above her belly button. It certainly wasn't fashionable, but she was just anxious to escape and hurried on her way, this time without being stopped by the alien woman again.

She wondered if the woman targeted all pregnant women like that. It was certainly an effective marketing tactic, she thought with a small grin. What pregnant woman wouldn't want good luck and a pain-free delivery? Even Piper, who hadn't really bonded with the pregnancy or embraced the idea that new life grew inside her in any other way besides intellectually, found it an appealing idea. The encounter was still on her mind when she accidentally collided with someone. "I'm sorry."

At the same time, the person said, "Excuse me."

The voice sounded familiar, and Piper looked up into warm green eyes surrounded by sandy-brown hair. She definitely recognized that face. "Hadley?"

Hadley frowned for a moment, and then her expression cleared. "Is that you, Piper? I didn't know you were back on Olympus Station."

Spontaneously, she hugged her old friend. "Just for a few months." She touched her stomach gingerly, wondering if any of the junior officers knew what the commander was doing.

Hadley looked down briefly, and her eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, you're Pippa's sister?" Her face tightened with what looked like distaste or disapproval. "I'm sorry for your loss." There was definitely a lack of warmth in those words.

Piper remembered how close she been to Hadley, though their friendship had inevitably faltered when she'd gone half a galaxy away to Greer, while her friend stayed on Olympus Station in the Junior Officers Corps, pursuing advancement. "I'm sure you recall a few comments I made about my sister here and there. Suffice it to say, we weren't close."

Hadley's gaze went back to her stomach again, and she arched a brow. "Apparently close enough for that. Well, I think it's wonderful what you're doing for the commander."

"It's for the baby," she said stiffly.

Hadley looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then grinned. "I see Abira ran across you, or perhaps the other way around?"

Piper shrugged. "Who's Abira?"

She put her hand up to about her chest. "Purple woman with long yellow hair? She targets all the expectant mothers with her charms."

Piper grinned. "Yeah, she has a technique of selling. You get the feeling that if you don't buy, she'll never let go."

Hadley laughed with her. "Do you have a little while? We could grab a drink? I'm supposed to meet Weston in a while, since he's dealing with a diplomatic envoy and needs my assistance, but I have time for a quick drink."

Piper nodded. "I'd love that. I've been in Weston's room the last two weeks, going stir-crazy."

Hadley looked very interested as she took her arm and led her a short way down the concourse to a bar that had not been there seven-and-a-half years ago. "Why are you with Weston? I mean in his room?"

Piper flushed, afraid she might've revealed too much, though nothing had happened. Other than that first night when he had almost kissed her, or she'd almost kissed him, depending on perspective, they'd both maintained an aloof distance. She shrugged a shoulder. "I was having some trouble with adapting to the hormones, so Gretel suggested having someone nearby. He was about the only person I knew on the station. I didn't realize you were still here."

The bartender, a red-skinned guy with black horns sprouting from his forehead, nodded at Hadley in a familiar way. "What can I get you, Captain?"

"Sinuvosh ale for myself, and what will you have, Piper?"

Piper shrugged. "Surprise me as long as it isn't alcoholic."

The bartender grinned at her, clearly liking her style. She turned to Hadley as they took a small table in the center of the room. "You're a captain now?"

Hadley beamed at her. "Not only that, but I'm second-in-command. If something happens to your Weston, his spot becomes mine." Her eyes sparkled with amusement as she spoke the words.

"Should I warn Weston to watch out for you?" She decided to let it slide that her old friend had referred to Weston as hers. That was no more than a slip of the tongue and making a big deal out of it would only add to Hadley's obvious curiosity.

"No, I have no plans to knock off the commander. He's suffered enough." Her expression clouded.

Piper nodded. "I heard things were rough with him and Pippa for a while."

Hadley snorted. "For a while's a bit of an understatement. Don't get me wrong. It's not like Weston took me into his confidences or anything, but I've known him for years and worked alongside him for the last three, so it was obvious he was suffering. It can't be easy watching your wife screw around with other men and—" She clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry. For a moment, I forgot you were Pippa's sister."

Piper's eyes widened, and her brain struggled to process the rest. Hadley was still a bit of a gossip, but it was in a benign way. "I didn't realize it was that bad, or maybe just that obvious. Did Weston know?"

Hadley didn't answer as the bartender brought their drinks, taking a moment to sip her ale. She seemed determined to avoid making eye contact, as though she was struggling with what to say.

To process, Piper decided to focus on her drink. It was some fruity concoction with a flavor she couldn't identify. Whatever it was, it was delicious, and she'd almost finished it by the time Hadley got up the nerve to speak.

"I don't know if he knew, or just suspected like the rest of us. I don't even know for sure that she was. I just saw her with different guys over the years, and they certainly weren't Weston. And they weren't engaged in just innocuous conversation. She wasn't hanging all over them in a sexual way, but there was definitely more than friendship, I thought." She looked ashamed. "Maybe I should've said something to Weston, but he's my commanding officer, and I really don't want to be the one to break up someone's marriage, regardless of who it is, right?"

Piper squirmed in her seat, not really answering. She couldn't help remembering her own thoughts in the early days after Pippa had announced their engagement. Even knowing she was pregnant with Wesley, Piper had indulged in the fantasy of Weston waking up and realizing he was with the wrong sister before marrying Pippa. Occasionally, she even allowed herself those fantasies after their marriage, though she had known that's all they were. That's all they could be then or now.

"Anyway, I'm sorry to blab all that. Please don't think I go around telling everyone everything. I guess I just remember how easy it was with you, Piper. I'm really sorry we lost touch."

Piper nodded. "I hope we can get reacquainted now that I'm here for a while?"

Hadley nodded as she looked at her comm when it buzzed. "Crap, I have to go. I'd like that a lot, and if you don't have plans tonight, maybe we could do dinner?"

"That sounds good." She waved to Hadley as her friend moved away, spending a moment finishing her drink. The bartender returned a couple of minutes later, and she smiled at him. "That was a fabulous drink. Thank you."

He inclined his head. "Would you care for another?" When she shook her head, he picked up with their glasses and dusted off the table with a cleaning cloth. "Thank you for your patronage." With that, he moved on to the next waiting table, and she realized the area was starting to fill up. She'd spent more time than she'd expected wandering around, and it was nearly lunchtime for those on a traditional diurnal schedule.

She left the bar and moved down the concourse, pausing to grab a couple of different foods she had never tried before for lunch. By then, she was starting to feel sleepy, so she decided to return to Weston's quarters and have a nap.

As she was walking back, she wondered if Hadley was accurate in her guess that Pippa had been unfaithful. Did Weston know? Beyond a shadow of a doubt, anyway? It wasn't really her place to say anything, especially since her shaky knowledge came from secondhand information with the assumption of confidentiality, she was certain, and certainly wasn't absolutely verified. Even Hadley herself couldn't swear that Pippa had been cheating.

And what did it matter now? Her sister was dead, their marriage was over, and the only link remaining between Weston and Pippa was inside Piper's stomach. Once the baby was born, that would sever the link joining her to both of them. That would be a positive thing for her mental health and future prospects, though the thought sent a fierce pang shooting through her chest.

# Chapter Seven

She woke with an aching cramp in her back that moved to the front when she sat up. She'd had a little bit of cramping in the beginning, but nothing like this, and not for several days. She cried out as another cramp made her stomach spasm and had her bending forward. Carefully, Piper eased herself out of the bed and walked toward the commode.

She froze halfway there when she saw blood on the floor. It was coming from her, and she cried out in shock. Another cramp almost brought her to her knees, and she leaned against the door frame to keep from falling. She should've called Gretel first, but it was instinctive to reach out to Weston. His face appeared on her comm. "Weston, I need you."

He frowned. "Could it wait? We have a diplomatic—"

She cried out as another pain ripped through her, this one sending her to her knees. "Now, please." The comm went dead in front of her eyes, and she hoped that meant he was coming to her, rather than he was hanging up on her to return to his duties to the station.

In desperation, she pressed the general medical emergency button, getting an unfamiliar face on her screen. "I need a transport to Medical from the commander's quarters." As she finished speaking, another pain ripped through her, making her cry out again.

She was shaking from the intensity of it as she thought she heard the doors open a moment later. She should hope for it to be the transport personnel, but she was relieved when Weston appeared. He came straight to her to lift her into his arms, and she let herself sink against him to take comfort in his embrace. "I'm bleeding."

His tone was even and gentle. "I know. Whatever happens, you're going to be all right."

"The baby..." She moaned the words as another wave of pain washed over her. "Help me, Weston."

"I'll do what I can, love."

She was vaguely aware of him practically running down the hallway, not even stopping for the transport personnel who met them halfway. Over his shoulder, she could see them turning around to run behind them and didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the sight. Weston was clearly determined to get her to Medical as soon as possible, which meant he was deeply concerned. She must be bleeding even more than she thought or looked worse than she felt—and she felt awful.

In what seemed like seconds, but was definitely a few minutes, he laid her on an exam table in Medical. Gretel scanned her before injecting her with something. Her eyes blurred, and her head was immediately pounding. "What's that?"

"A compound to help you maintain the pregnancy. I'm going to figure out what's going on, but this will stop the bleeding very quickly."

"My head hurts." She sounded completely unlike herself, but she had never felt pain like this before. It was as though the contractions that ripped through her middle had now moved to her brain, though smaller spasms still made her abdomen tighten and loosen as well. She was definitely still having contractions, though they seemed to have lessened in intensity.

Weston was beside her, his hand on her brow for a moment. He moved away, and when he returned, he laid something cool across her forehead that had a pleasant scent she couldn't quite identify. "That should help in a few minutes. It always helps me when I have a headache."

She couldn't move her head enough to nod. She was in too much pain, but she tried not to move as Gretel performed a more detailed diagnostic and drew blood.

The pain seemed to go on forever, so it was a bit of a shock to realize the next time she looked at the clock that it had only been thirty-eight minutes from the onset of the cramping to now, when her head was starting to clear, and the pain was fading significantly. "I feel better." She sounded groggy though.

"That's good. Everything's settling down now. I've already administered the antitoxin."

Her eyes snapped open. "Antitoxin? To what?"

"You have traces of Grambian horg root in your system, Piper."

She frowned. "Never heard of it." Or maybe she had. It sounded vaguely familiar. "Is it also called _firgrils_?"

Gretel shrugged. "I'm not sure. I'm just going by the computer information. It seems to be a rare plant used by the Grambi people to induce abortions."

Her mouth dropped open in shock. "How in the world would I have gotten that? Where?"

"Where were you today?" Weston sounded brusque, and his expression was difficult to read.

Surely he didn't think she had deliberately taken something to induce an abortion after coming all this way to carry the pregnancy? The thought annoyed her, but she hoped she was simply misjudging his concern as censure.

Quickly, she recounted her steps, trying to remember the exact stores. They both seemed fairly uninterested in the narrative until she mentioned the charm from Abira. She was still wearing it, having forgotten to take it off, so Gretel scanned it. After a moment, Gretel shook her head. "There's no contamination there."

She continued on, mentioning meeting Hadley and joining her for a drink at the bar. She didn't know the name of her drink, but described it.

"Get the bartender on the comm system," said Weston with a scowl. A few seconds later, the man's face appeared on the large screen in Medical. "What was the drink you served my...Piper today?"

The bartender frowned. "I'm not sure who Piper is, Commander."

"Her." Weston pointed his comm at Piper, and her face appeared on a split screen beside the bartender's for a moment before he moved his wrist, and her face disappeared.

The bartender nodded. "That was a Florfial firewheel, Commander."

"What are the ingredients?" asked Gretel. As he listed them, she studied her scanner before finally shaking her head. "It wasn't in there, but do you use Grambian horg root in any drinks, Anthracite?"

The red man nodded. "It's a key ingredient in Grambian blood shooters. I keep a supply in the bar just for that purpose."

"Thank you," said Weston. A moment later, he ended the connection before turning to Gretel and then looking at Piper. "Sounds like a case of cross-contamination?"

Gretel nodded. "That would be my assessment as well."

Piper swallowed thickly, remembering how delicious the drink had been, but knowing she wouldn't risk visiting the facilities again to have one until the infant was born—if it was going to be born. "How's the baby? Were you able to save her?"

Gretel nodded. "The antitoxin is already taking effect, and along with the other medication, you should be noticing a lessening of symptoms, if you feel anything at all?"

Piper closed her eyes and took mental inventory of her body for a moment before opening them again. "I don't have more cramps or pain. Have I stopped bleeding?" She was a little shy as she asked the question, glancing briefly at Weston. It felt like such an intimate question to pose in front of him.

"I see no signs of continued bleeding," she said as she ran the scanner down the lower half of Piper's body. "I'm going to let you go now, but I want you to rest for at least the rest of today, and possibly tomorrow, if you're still feeling worn out. You've lost more blood than I'd like, but not enough that you need a transfusion at this point." She looked at Weston. "Keep a close eye on her, Commander."

When Gretel let her leave a few minutes later, she might've been able to walk, but apparently Weston didn't want to risk it. She was still feeling weak and lightheaded, so she settled into his arms without protest, allowing him to carry her back to his quarters. He stopped to let her use the bathroom to clean up, but as soon as she emerged a few minutes later, he lifted her into his arms again. She was so comfortable snuggled against him that it took a moment to realize they had bypassed the room she was using in favor of his.

He started to place her on the bed, and she frowned up at him. "What are you doing? I can't take your bed when I have one of my own."

He frowned. "I'm not leaving you alone when there's still a possibility you could start bleeding again."

She nodded hesitantly, sharing the fear herself, though her body seemed to have calmed down. She was definitely exhausted though and allowed herself to lean back against the pillow. Her eyes had closed when she heard a rustling sound. At first, she assumed he was sitting in the chair he'd used last time he'd sat vigil with her, but her eyes snapped open a moment later when the bed dipped, and she turned her head.

He was sprawled beside her, and she stared at him with wide eyes for a moment. "What are you doing?" She asked the question as a whisper when she had intended it to be more forceful.

He reached for her hand, ignoring her temporary resistance until she relaxed and curled her fingers into has. "I'm sticking close. A lot of horrible thoughts are in my mind right now, and I could use the comfort of someone's presence as much as you can."

She let out a sigh, unable to argue with that. Piper relaxed again, closing her eyes. "What thoughts?" she asked softly.

"Losing you. I could've lost you and Pippa's baby today. I've lost enough. Wesley..." His voice broke on the last word.

She didn't open her eyes, but nodded in sympathy and squeezed his hand. Her thoughts were occupying similar dark territory, and she was lucky to have only brushed against the specter of loss rather than having known it intimately like Weston. Besides her sister, her mother was the only other person she'd lost.

Rhonda had been a lot like Pippa in her emotional machinations and aloof distances, so when she had died shortly after Piper and Pippa's eleventh birthday, life had continued pretty much the way it had before. The only difference was they had seen a little more of their father, which had led adult Piper to speculate Jonathan Marston had steered clear of his wife as much as possible at the expense of his daughters.

For the first time, she wondered if he'd had a similar marriage with Rhonda to the one Weston appeared to have had with Pippa and felt sympathy for her father. Before, she had been mostly resentful of him being absent for most of their childhood, but now had a new understanding of it. It still didn't excuse him sacrificing time with her and Pippa, but if he was as miserable with Rhonda as Weston had been with her sister, she had some compassion for her dad.

Her thoughts turned fuzzy as exhaustion crept over her, and she surrendered to the need to sleep.

She woke sometime later, feeling refreshed, and also warm. Safe was another word that filtered through her mind, coming with her out of deep unconsciousness as she slowly woke. Abruptly, she realized there was a hard male body against hers, arms holding her tightly, and the warm length of Weston's cock pressing against her hip. It sent an immediate, fierce wave of arousal through her, though her battered body was in too much pain to even consider such a thing.

Which meant she definitely shouldn't be curled against him like this, even though he was snoring softly. She tried to ease away, and he jerked awake. His lids snapped open, and they were gazing into each other's eyes, though his appeared unfocused. She started to move away, but he pulled her closer. Weston buried his face in her neck and started nuzzling her skin.

She let out a ragged breath, wanting to sink deeper against him, but knowing she should move away. She tried again, but his arms tightened. "Piper," he grunted, though his voice was thick with sleep. A moment later, he started nibbling the spot where his lips rested.

She stiffened for a second at the sound of her name before warmth filled her. In the back of her mind, she'd wondered if he'd thought she was Pippa. Knowing he was thinking about her and recognized her as the one in his arms weakened the last of her resistance. She let herself melt against him, cautiously running her fingers through his thick hair.

His eyes snapped open immediately, and their gazes locked. His gaze was clear this time. He frowned. "What...?" With a shake of his head, he gently disengaged from her. "I'm sorry. I apologize for anything I might've done." His face was red with embarrassment.

She was feeling a bit embarrassed herself now that he was so clearly ashamed of what he'd done. He might've been thinking of her, but it had been more of a subconscious thought obviously. She cleared her throat. "You didn't do anything really."

He frowned. "What's really?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "You kissed my neck a bit and said my name."

He looked oddly relieved as he ran a hand through his hair. "I'm glad that was all I did."

She stiffened at the words, interpreting them to mean he was glad he had stopped himself before he could do anything else with her. "I should go back to my room." She started to pull away, but froze when his hand wrapped around her wrist. It was a gentle hold the didn't force her to stay, but she couldn't make herself move away from it either. She glanced up through the veil of her lashes.

"I'm just glad I didn't push you to do anything you didn't want to. I haven't had sex in seven years, so I simply meant I was glad I didn't lose control in my sleep."

She started to nod, but then frowned and glanced at her stomach with a quirked brow. "Seven years?"

Weston cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "I think it's been that long, but I'm not sure. Pippa claimed..." He trailed off, looking nauseated.

Acting on instinct, Piper reached out and wrapped her fingers around his to squeeze his hand. "What did she say?"

"She said I got drunk and forced her, and she got pregnant with this baby."

Piper's eyes widened with shock, and then she burst out laughing. "That's ridiculous." Immediately, she winced at her insensitivity. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you, but that is just absurd."

He shrugged. "I definitely don't remember doing anything of the sort. The night she pinpointed, we had an official function where I did drink a glass of wine. I also woke up with a pounding headache the next day and no memory of the night before."

She frowned. "Do you think someone drugged you?"

He hesitated for a moment and then nodded. "I do. I can't prove it, but that's what I suspect. If I'd realized that morning what was going on, I would've gone to Gretel for a scan, but it was too late by the time I started to piece it all together."

A thought was forming in Piper's mind, but she held back as she asked in a carefully neutral voice, "What's your theory then? What were you piecing together?"

"I suspect she realized one of her affairs had left her pregnant, and that would be inconvenient, so she decided to convince me it was mine. There was no way I would've touched her in my right mind, and I highly doubt I had anything to do with the conception of her child at all, but she wanted to introduce at least the doubt in my mind that I could be the father."

Piper let out a shaky breath, having reached the same conclusion. "That's my guess too. Pippa is—was—horribly manipulative." She squeezed his hand again, feeling empathy at the obvious pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry she cheated on you. I mean, if she did."

He snorted. "Of course she did. She never blatantly admitted it, but she didn't go out of her way to hide it either. I was apathetic and didn't care enough to do anything about it, but I'm sure she reached the correct conclusion that if she was illegally pregnant with someone to whom she wasn't partnered and without a permit, there would be serious consequences for her and the child if I refused to accept responsibility and pretend to be the father. She had to come up with a way to make me think I was, but I'm still not entirely certain I'm not grasping at straws. What if I did such a horrible thing to her? I hadn't found her attractive in years, but maybe in drunken desperation—"

Piper interrupted him by pressing her fingers to his lips. "That's ridiculous too. You didn't force Pippa to do anything."

He frowned. "I can't be sure though."

She licked her lips. "I can be sure for both of us. I feel safe with you, and I know better than anyone the lengths to which Pippa would go to get what she wanted, or to hurt someone she considered an enemy. You didn't do anything to her. I'm completely confident about that."

He opened his mouth, looking like he would continue to protest. Piper couldn't bear to see anguish on his face and the speculation about his own actions reflected in his gaze. She knew with bone-deep certainty that he had never touched Pippa in an inappropriate or forceful fashion, and he'd certainly never forced her to sleep with him.

Acting on instinct again, she moved closer to him and opened her mouth, molding her lips to Weston's. It was a gentle kiss, offering reassurance and proof of a lack of fear, and he stiffened. A second later, he pulled her closer, and his arms wrapped around her as his mouth curved over hers possessively. The kiss quickly deepened, and his tongue traced the seam of her lips to probe for entrance.

She parted them with a soft gasp and accepted him inside as their lips pressed fervently against each other. Heat rocketed through her body, pooling in her stomach in a pit of pure desire, but when it shot lower, it caused a twinge of discomfort in her pelvis, which sharply reminded her she wasn't in any shape to do anything beyond kissing.

Weston might have reached the same conclusion himself, because he abruptly pulled away. He didn't let go of her though. He simply pulled her tighter against his chest, keeping his arm around her. "Do you really think she was just manipulating me?"

Piper nodded, her cheek brushing against the strong column of his throat. "I'm sure of it. Pippa was born like that. There was an element missing in her makeup, and I think it was missing in our mother's as well. She used people for whatever she needed, but I'd be surprised if she genuinely cared about anyone in her life, except maybe our father and certainly Wesley."

He stiffened slightly. "She did love Wesley, but she wasn't exactly mother of the year."

Piper sighed. "That doesn't surprise me."

His hand moved hesitantly to cover her stomach. "You can't tell anyone that it's not mine. If the Reproductive Board finds out, they'll order termination, since you're nowhere near the point of viability. There's no permit, and Pippa blatantly broke the law by procreating outside of an approved union."

Piper nodded. "I understand, but I am curious why you were determined to save a child that you weren't sure was yours?"

He shrugged for a moment, appearing lost in thought. "I honestly can't tell you why, other than it felt like the right thing to do. She was lying on the table. I could remember Wesley's lifeless body in the glass tube, and it seemed like a way to restore some kind of balance. I can't explain it any better than that, except it was a purely emotional reaction."

Piper snuggled closer. "I love that it was your reaction, Weston. I don't know how many people would've stepped in to save a child to which they had no biological connection." She frowned suddenly as she realized the baby inside her was still connected to her biologically, but a huge element was missing. "Who do you think is the father?"

He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly for a moment against her cheek. "I honestly have no idea. There are millions of humans and aliens moving through Olympus Station every year. She might've been involved with someone stationed here, or it could have been someone coming or going. I guess we'll know if he was human when the child's born. If not, I'm not sure how to hide that."

Piper sniffed softly. "I'm pretty sure you don't have to worry about it being anything but human. In addition to her other horrible qualities, Pippa was definitely human-centric. She found aliens interesting, but definitely considered them inferior to humans. I can't imagine any circumstances where she would've had an affair with an alien, even if he was humanoid. That would've tainted her pure human genes." Apparently, she didn't do a good job of hiding her disgust—not that she tried—because his tone mirrored hers when he replied.

"What a filthy worldview." He shook his head. "I just don't understand how I was such a fool to think I loved her, even for a little while."

Piper didn't say anything, because she'd wondered that herself. She also understood though. Pippa had been a master at manipulating people, and she would've been exactly what she detected Weston wanted her to be in order to garner his attention. After that, she'd start to slowly let her true self show. "You and Pippa got pregnant with Wesley before the wedding. Was that planned?"

He stiffened. "Of course not. It could've been a real risk to my career, and I didn't know her that well. Her Biochip malfunctioned."

Piper snorted. "Yeah, that's what she wanted you to think. Do you suppose..." She trailed off, gathering her thoughts.

"What?" He prompted after thirty seconds or so silence.

"Do you think she did it again with number-two? Did she get pregnant on purpose in hopes of snaring whomever she was having an affair with into a more permanent arrangement?"

He stiffened and then cursed softly. "I guess we'll never know, but it seems plausible. I still don't know why she targeted me though. I have a good career and salary, but she could have aimed much higher than a station commander."

Piper opened her mouth to enlighten him, but held back. They were having an open moment, but she wasn't ready to leave herself so vulnerable by admitting that she had been in love with him years ago, and she was convinced Pippa had gone after him solely to hurt her.

Perhaps Pippa had found him attractive, and maybe she had been excited by his prospects, knowing he would follow her father as head of Olympus Station at some point, but Piper didn't believe for a minute that Pippa had ever genuinely loved Weston—and certainly not to the same extent Piper had, albeit quietly and from afar.

# Chapter Eight

Somehow, even in the midst of an alien envoy visiting to establish new ties and integrate an ambassador on the station, Weston had managed to mostly clear his schedule to stay by her side the last two days. Now, she walked with him back to Medical, having finally persuaded him she was up for the trip, so Gretel could perform an exam to ensure everything was stable.

She expected a clean bill of health, since she was feeling fine now. She still had an occasional moment of lightheadedness, probably from blood loss, or maybe even a side effect of the antitoxin or other medication that had maintained the pregnancy, but Piper was certain Gretel would clear her for resumption of normal activities.

A half-hour later, her prediction was correct as Gretel showed them a scan of the child, who was moving her arms and legs. Thanks to the incredible detail of the scan, she could see the most minute detail, including the tiny fingernails on the ends of her fingers. A jolt went through Piper when she had an unexpected emotional connection.

Physically knowing the child was there, and even seeing it, hadn't done anything to help her bond with the pregnancy, but something had shifted in the last couple of days. Was it the almost loss of the baby, or Weston's revelations? For some reason, knowing he wasn't the father left her feeling closer to the baby forming inside her. Perhaps it was because she knew that Weston hadn't been with her sister to create the child, or maybe she was moved by his act of selflessness enough that it bolstered her own. She was suddenly convinced there was no way she would walk away after the child was born.

"Let me walk you back to the quarters, and then I have things to attend to."

She frowned. "I'm not ready to go back there. I'm sick of staring at the walls for two days and going slightly insane for weeks in that room. I need to get out and about."

Weston frowned, his displeasure obvious. "It's probably not safe."

Piper rolled her eyes. "You heard Gretel. She said I'm just fine now, and I'm going to walk around and stretch my legs. I'm sure there's a lot I haven't reacquainted myself with on the station, so I should be able to find something to entertain myself for a while."

He let out a heavy sigh. "In that case, you'll come with me."

She frowned. "Don't you have some big alien thing?"

He grinned. "I'm not sure that the Jrojan prince and his ambassador would appreciate being called an alien thing, but yes, I do."

"In that case, I don't see how you have time."

He shrugged. "You can come with me and act as my assistant. First, I think I'll take you on a quick tour of the station and show you some of the things you haven't seen. I'm not due to meet the delegation for another forty-five minutes."

She smiled at him. "In that case, lead the way, Commander. I'm your dutiful assistant and will follow behind."

Weston knew he was cutting it close, but he couldn't resist the urge to show off Olympus Station and elicit several smiles from Piper in the process. She seemed impressed with the newly renovated gymnasium, and her eyes lit up with pleasure when he took her to the observation deck so that she could see the stars laid out before them, commenting they looked bigger and brighter than she remembered.

She was most impressed with the little things, like the unexpected light show from the fountain in the center of the central meeting point. She was particularly delighted by little white flowers creeping up the side of one dank corner of the station, where no plants had been designated to grow. He listened to her speak enthusiastically about the hardy nature of the Lushan dragonflower, and her expression and excitement made it difficult for him to breathe for a moment.

As he stared at her, he understood he was falling in love with Piper. That should've alarmed him, but it only prompted him to move closer and take her hand. They were standing in the middle of one of the busiest areas of the station, but he didn't care who saw.

He doubted anyone who'd been on the station for long would've had the illusion that he and Pippa had a happy marriage, and he couldn't care less if they had a negative opinion of him choosing to move on with her sister. It wouldn't take long for anyone to realize Piper was nothing like Pippa, and that would surely be a positive to almost everyone who'd known his former wife.

As they moved away from the shadowed area where she'd noticed the flowers, he still didn't release her hand. She shot him a curious look as she tried to pull away her fingers, but he tightened his grasp and shook his head. He waited to see if she would protest, but she simply gave him a half-shrug and kept her hand in his.

They walked down the concourse, approaching the meeting point with the prince and the diplomat, who were currently entrusted to Hadley's capable care, so he could focus on the crisis of the past two days with Piper and the baby. He paused abruptly in front of the stall that sold a profusion of fresh flowers and live plants. Her gaze lit up, and he wasn't surprised. After all, she was an exobotanist, and this was clearly her passion. He wanted to do everything he could to indulge her passion.

And spark new passions. His groin ached furiously for a moment as he imagined entering her and joining their bodies as one. It had been such a long time that he'd even mildly entertained the thought of sex with anyone besides his own hand that he was briefly certain he wouldn't remember how to show his interest.

"Pick whatever you'd like, and we'll have it delivered to our quarters." The _our_ slipped out easily, but he held his breath to see if she would notice.

She was clearly enthralled by the plants, but appeared to be holding herself back. "I couldn't. I mean, what happens when..." Her eyes clouded as she trailed off.

"Whatever you want, or I'll just have them send everything." He saw the shopkeeper grin at the idea, but then the man's face fell when Piper started pointing to various plants.

Soon enough, the man's orange countenance brightened again when she picked several items that must've been costly or rare. He thanked them profusely in English and his native language, which was garbled through the translator, so he must be a newer species, since his complete language hadn't yet been uploaded into the central matrix of the Coalition. He bore a resemblance to the Jrojan prince's race, so Weston tentatively identified him as hailing from Jroj.

After that, he proceeded onward, pausing once more as he neared the delegation. Her hand was still in his, and he regretfully released it, needing to give the appearance of professionalism. "You might want to skip this part, but you're welcome to join me."

She hesitated for a moment, casting a glance at the orange aliens assembled near Hadley. "I think I might check out other parts of Olympus Station instead."

He let out a small sigh. "That's probably the wise decision. These sorts of things to be tedious and dull. However, we're having an official function tonight, and I'd appreciate it if you would act as my hostess."

She frowned for a moment, licking her lips. "What kind of message does that send?"

He shrugged. "That you're someone important in my life, and I don't care who receives _that_ message. Or what they think."

Her expression softened. "In that case, I suppose I'd better find a dress for some kind of fancy official function."

"That sounds like a plan." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Be careful."

With a nod, she started to walk away, but then turned and came back, pressing herself against him for a moment. It wasn't exactly a discreet embrace, but he couldn't find the energy to care, even with the gaze of the alien prince and ambassador probably focused squarely on him now that Hadley had turned in their direction. He bent his head as she lifted hers, tempting her to try to kiss him.

Instead, her lips moved closer to his ear, and she whispered, "Pippa targeted you because of me."

A shudder went through him as he pulled away to look down into her gaze. "What're you talking about?"

She licked her lips, looking nervous. "She figured out I was in lo...attracted to you, so she decided to steal you away, though you were never mine. That was why. You asked last night. It's my fault she went after you."

He wanted to deny her words, but simply because of the pain in her eyes. Unfortunately, it would fit with the Pippa he knew, who could be vindictive and cruel, and would pursue any course that gave her what she wanted. If she wanted to hurt Piper, she would've found the most effective way, though he couldn't understand her hatred of her sister.

He let all that go as he realized what her words revealed. Years ago, Piper had wanted him, and he'd been too oblivious to realize it. For a moment, a surge of bitterness eviscerated him as he imagined how different life could have been if he had noticed the right sister back then.

But that would've meant no Wesley. As much as he'd been miserable with Pippa, he couldn't regret the few years he'd had with his beautiful son, and he had to let go of the acrimony. Instead, he embraced the knowledge that she'd wanted him then, and she seemed to want him now. "I have to go, but we're going to discuss this later."

She shrugged a shoulder. "There's really nothing much left to discuss, is there? I want you, and you want me." With a saucy wink in his direction, she spun on her heel faster than he would've liked in her current condition and scurried away before he could call her back. Not that he had time to anyway, especially when he saw Hadley separating from the group and drifting in his direction.

He clung to happiness as he walked to meet Hadley. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he was rushing Piper, but she seemed enthusiastic about the idea. He knew it was too soon to suggest they become lovers, and she deserved more wooing than that, but he was optimistic about his future for the first time in a long time.

# Chapter Nine

Piper didn't see much of him until the next day, and it was later in the evening when she did. He must've had to make up for the time he took off to care for her and the baby for the last couple of days, but he showed up promptly at the designated meeting time in his quarters to pick her up for the official function.

When he stepped in, she caught her breath. He'd clearly had a fresh haircut, and he wore his blue and white dress uniform, which was a sharp contrast to the normal utilitarian dark-gray uniforms Coalition employees typically wore. She had picked well, though hadn't known what color to go with. She'd simply guessed he would wear his dress uniform and had selected the simple white sheath that showed only a moderately daring amount of cleavage, but hugged her burgeoning belly in a way that did nothing to hide her pregnancy.

They walked toward each other, but stopped a few feet apart. He seemed to be staring as intently at her as her she was at him. "You look amazing," she said as her cheeks heated slightly. She wasn't used to bestowing compliments or being so open with someone—especially someone who radiated so much heat through their gaze that it was having the effect of further stoking her own desire.

He closed the distance between them, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You look good enough to eat."

Her blush deepened, but she didn't betray her awkwardness when he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. She turned her head at the last moment, capturing his lips fully against hers. When they pulled apart a moment later, they were both breathing heavily.

"I was trying to avoid smearing your lipstick."

She grinned. "I can reapply it, and it's well worth the effort for that kiss, but unnecessary. The stuff appears to be molecularly bonded to my lips with nanotechnology." She was just kidding, but it was certainly some kind of long-lasting lipstick that supposedly wore away precisely eight hours after application.

"Are you ready?"

She took his extended arm. "You're sure you want to do this? It's kind of an official declaration of..."

"I'm sure, and of what?" he asked as he led her to the biometric door, which parted to allow them entry into the corridor.

"Of whatever this thing is between us." Her stomach clenched with nerves, spurring the first surge of nausea she'd had in a few days, other than when she got so sick after accidentally ingesting the horg root.

"This is the beginning of us," he said in a firm and decisive manner. "We have no reason to hide that, do we?"

She shook her head, causing one of the tendrils of dark hair she'd pinned to her head to escape its confines and float down around her face. He tucked it back behind her ear before speaking. "It's just that Pippa was my sister, and I don't want to hurt your career."

"My career can stuff it. I'm not about to lose a chance at being happy just because some people might not approve of my private life."

His words reassured her, and she clenched her fingers through his, holding tightly as they walked into the event room, which was filled with a mix of humans and aliens.

She caught sight of Hadley standing near the alien delegation, and she was sure her friend was a little closer to the one she thought was the prince than was probably appropriate. She made a mental note to talk to Hadley about it later as Weston led her into the room.

The first half-hour was spent making the rounds, including the prince, his advisors, and the ambassador, who was due to be stationed at Olympus Station after this mission. She was definitely picking up a vibe between Hadley and the prince, but seemed to be the only one aware of it.

They were moving through the room, and Weston was deep in conversation with the ambassador, so she fell behind a couple of steps to allow the illusion of privacy for their conversation. As she did so, a hand fell on her shoulder. She turned and frowned, trying to place the slim blond man who was touching her. She eased away, but plastered on a polite smile. "Do I know you?"

He puffed up a bit like a toad. "I'm Baxter Frink, Coalition Reproductive Board representative." His gaze dropped to her stomach. "That is an unauthorized pregnancy."

She glared at him as she took a step back. "My father ensured all the permits were transferred in a timely fashion."

He sneered. "Your sister has a history of requiring backdated permits."

Piper shrugged. "But I'm not my sister."

His gaze cut to the commander, and his sneered deepened. "Are you sure about that? You certainly seem to be doing a good job of standing in for her in every way." Suggestiveness in his tone was matched only by the lewdness of his expression for a moment.

It took everything she had not to slap him as she took a step back and turned away from him. His words stung, but they also angered her. In her heart, she knew Weston didn't consider her any sort of replacement for Pippa. She was convinced he found her far superior to her sister, but there would be those who would make snide comments and instant judgments about the situation. She'd have to toughen up and grow a thick skin to overlook that, or give up Weston and whatever possibilities waited before them.

That wasn't even an option, so she straightened her shoulders and stiffened her spine as she hurried to catch up with Weston and the delegation from Palos, the capitol of planet Jroj.

They spent the next hour talking before music played in the background. After the prince had invited Hadley to dance, Weston turned to her. "Do you feel like dancing?"

She nodded. "I'd love to." She wasn't as graceful as Pippa had been, but she could hold her own. The song was alien to her, melodic and yet somehow discordant every few notes. It was jarring, so the simplest thing was to sway lightly with him, trying to maintain a respectful distance. She wanted to melt against him, but resisted the urge, not wanting to embarrass Weston at an official function, or reveal her desire so blatantly to all the prying eyes.

When the song ended, he took a step back, looking regretful as he let go of her hand. Another woman, who appeared to be old enough to be Weston's mother, stood nearby, clearly expecting to be asked to dance.

With a good-natured grin in his direction, she nodded to the woman and took a few steps back. After a moment, music resumed, and she made her way across the dance floor. She was almost to the edge of the perimeter when her shoe turned suddenly as the heel broke off. She slipped, but didn't fall. With a muttered curse, she bent over to rub her ankle, and several gasps sounded around her at the same time someone cried out a warning.

Some instinct caused her to dip deeper rather than stand up, and a moment later, something heavy swished just above her head before landing in front of her with a crash.

She stared at the bar in front of her for a moment, which looked like smooth glass, though had to be some kind of composite material. It was heavy and durable enough to construct a good part of the station. Still reeling in shock, she looked up to where the bar should've been in the ceiling, but had dropped. If she hadn't bent down to adjust her shoe, it probably would've hit her in the head. Had it done so, she would've certainly died under the crushing weight.

Stunned silence filled the room for minute, and then there was a chatter of voices as people pressed around her to check on her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Weston pushing his way through, not too gently in some cases, and approaching her. As soon as his arm was around her waist, she sank against him and let out a shuddering breath. "That was quite an adrenaline rush," she said weakly. A few chuckles surrounded her, and she knew she had struck the right note to return the party to a more festive tone.

"Perhaps we should loan you some good Jrojan steel," joked Ambassador Krill. Everyone in the vicinity gave a polite laugh.

She walked away with Weston, his arm around her waist as he led her back to their table, all the while ostensibly fully engaged in conversation with the prince and the ambassador. Pressed so close to him though, she could feel the tension in his body, and she shared it.

Part of it was fading adrenaline, which threatened to leave her weak, but the other part was just passionate need. For some reason, having come so close to an accidental death switched on her hormones, and she suddenly couldn't wait to be alone with Weston. They might be rushing things, but that was a risk she was willing to take.

When they returned to his quarters, Weston had his arm firmly around her waist, and she was snuggled against him. He lifted a hand to the panel to allow them entry, and then they were through the door. Her stomach quivered, but it was purely nerves. He stood in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, but neither of them spoke. Was he as nervous as she was? That seemed impossible to believe, but she couldn't deny he hadn't made any attempt to take things farther.

Neither had she.

Taking a deep breath for courage, she moved closer to him, lifting her head in an unspoken invitation. She waited for a moment, letting her eyes close, but he didn't kiss her. With a frown, wondering if she had misread his signals, she opened her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

He let out a shaky breath. "No. I was just thinking about how close I came to losing you, and it rattled me all over again."

Piper nodded. "I know, but it was an accident that could have happened to anyone." A thought teased at the back of her mind, but she had no patience to focus on anything besides Weston at the moment. "I'm fine. So is the baby."

He nodded, his hand moving between their bodies to cup her stomach for a moment.

She put her palm over the back of his hand. "How do you feel about it?"

He clearly didn't need clarification. "Excited. I know...strongly suspect...it isn't mine, but I'm still excited. Pippa's pregnancy was miserable for her and for me. She wouldn't let me near her, even to feel Wesley kick, because she blamed me for impregnating her to start with. It was during that time she also revealed just how awful she really was, and I already knew I'd never been in love with her, let alone fallen out of love, months before Wesley was born. I made it work for him, and then I just stopped feeling or caring about much of anything besides Olympus Station after he died."

Piper blinked back tears. "I'm sorry you were so unhappy then."

He looked up from her stomach and into her eyes. "It was my own fault for being so gullible. If I had spent a little more time looking, I would have seen you back then. If I had, Pippa never would have registered on my radar."

Piper bit her lip. "That's sweet of you to say."

His eyes narrowed. "But...?"

She shook her head. "Pippa was gorgeous. She was sculpted to perfection with a laser scalpel, or whatever. I was just as plain then as I am now. Even if you had realized I was alive back then, she still would have captured your attention."

His face furrowed with a stern frown as he cupped her cheeks in his hands. "That isn't true. I'll admit her beauty was the main thing that drew me to her, but it was her perceived kindness that really got my attention. I suspect she was imitating how she'd seen you behave, because I don't think there was a drop of genuine kindness in her otherwise."

"It really doesn't matter now. That was then, and this is about us. Isn't it?" She hated how she betrayed her doubts with that question, but couldn't help wondering if this was just a convenient relationship for him to drift into after years of celibacy.

Weston scowled. "You aren't plain, and you aren't a substitute, if that's what you think. I thought we'd already established that?"

She lifted a shoulder. "It's hard to believe a man like you—"

He made a scoffing sound. "A man like me? Please, Piper. I'm the fool who fell for your sister's pretense and then didn't care enough about anything to extricate myself. I was the man who spent most of his time working to avoid her and wasn't there when my son died in a preventable accident. She wasn't properly supervising him, but I wasn't even there, because I wanted to avoid her. That's the kind of man I am, and if anyone should be doubting their worthiness, it's me. I don't deserve someone like you after the nightmare of my past."

She blinked again as warm tears scalded her eyes. It was instinct to move closer and wrap her arms around him, clinging tighter when he stiffened and tried to move away for a moment before his posture slowly relaxed, and he put his arms around her. "It was an accident, and you might not have been able to prevent him from falling over the rail even if you'd been with them. You can't blame yourself for what happened to Wesley."

He shook his head. "I know that in my head, but it's different in my heart. If I had divorced Pippa, I would have spent more time with my son."

"Or she would have found a way to make you suffer for divorcing her. Pippa was too good at that sort of thing." She shivered for a moment, thinking about some of Pippa's worst actions, before pushing those thoughts from her mind. "Are you ready to move on from the past, Weston?"

He didn't hesitate to nod. "More than ready."

"And you want to move on with me?" It took a lot of courage to ask those words, but she had to conquer her tendency to hide her emotions and avoid getting hurt if she wanted a future with him.

"More than anything."

She closed her eyes and lifted her head again, giving him a second chance to kiss her. It wasn't long before his lips settled on hers in a hungry kiss, and she melted against him. Weston pressed his lips to hers as his tongue surged into her mouth. His hunger was obvious, and she knew he needed relief if he was going to last.

He moaned a protest when she broke the kiss, but it turned to a husky groan that was somewhere between anticipation and protest as she sank to her knees. She ignored his tension as she unfastened his dress pants and stripped him to his knees in under a minute. He put a hand on her head, but she kept her gaze focused on his cock. "I'm just taking the edge off."

With that explanation, she took him into her mouth and allowed instinct to guide her. She hadn't done this before, but he seemed content with her technique. He jerked against her, his body shuddering, as she trailed her tongue down the underside of his shaft before focusing on the head. She stroked and sucked gently at first, but increased the pressure when his hips bucked wildly. With a groan that sounded tortured, he spasmed in her mouth before his cum hit the back of her throat. She swallowed and eased back, slowly disengaging from his sensitive erection.

He offered a hand and lifted her to her feet, pulling her against him for another long kiss. He didn't shy away from his essence on her tongue as his plundered her depths, learning every niche and curve of her mouth.

When they broke apart, they both breathed heavily. He held her around the waist for a moment before picking her up and carrying her from the main area to his bedroom. She wrapped her arm around his neck and decided she fit perfectly against him, as though he was made just to carry her. It was almost physically painful to be parted from him a moment later when he placed her on the edge of his bed.

He was taking a moment to strip off his uniform completely, so she decided to do the same. The dress had a clever shoulder fastening, so she needed no assistance in removing it. She let it pool around her waist, leaving her torso bare, since the bra was in the dress. With a moan, Weston dropped to the floor between her legs, his gaze on her breasts. She looked down, entranced by his dark head against her fairer skin as he took a plump nipple into his mouth.

She hissed a breath through her teeth at the increased pleasure. Her breasts had swollen rapidly over the past couple of weeks to catch up with her pregnancy, leaving her tender and aching as he lightly licked her nipple. When he pulled back, she threaded her fingers through his hair in an effort to return him to sucking.

He laughed against her skin, but moved his head to her other breast, tasting her with the same slow appreciation he'd shown the first one. When he finally lifted his head, she was writhing on the bed and desperate for more.

Weston paused for a moment before he did anything else, though his hands cupped her hips through the dress that remained around her. "You're so beautiful, Piper. Never think you're plain. You're natural and delightful. A man would be crazy not to want you."

She dipped her head, feeling shy under the praise, but also buoyed by it. She didn't look up again until he shifted, but it was only so he could pull down her dress. She lifted her bottom to assist the endeavor, and he laid it carefully across the trunk at the foot of the bed before returning to her.

"Stockings?" He was practically drooling as he ran his mouth up her calf. "Is that real silk?"

She laughed. "Of course not. Who could afford that, if there are even silkworms producing commercially any longer? It's Puzlon fabric woven into a silk-like fabric."

"It's sexy, whatever it is." His mouth moved higher as he kissed a line up to her inner thigh, moving closer to her core as he gently pushed her backward.

Piper made no effort to resist as she laid back, waiting for the moment when his mouth would caress her pussy. Instead, he bypassed the sensitive spot to kiss his way down her other leg, spending a moment rubbing against her stockinged calf with his cheek. "I'm beginning to think you're making love to the stockings, not me," she teased as she propped herself on her elbows to look at him.

He looked up at her with his eyes half-mast. "I just find it so sexy." His hand moved between her legs to cup her mound. "Not as sexy as this."

She moaned when he pressed his fingers against her cleft, using the Puzlon fabric of the panties to stroke her clit.

"So soft and silky." His voice had a bit of a growl to it when he pushed aside the panties and found her skin. "And bare. Are you trying to kill me with desire, Piper?"

She laughed for a moment before his mouth stole her ability to do so. He fell on her like a starving man, his lips exploring her as his tongue swept through her heated slit. She was slippery for him, and he thrust his tongue inside her for a moment, mimicking the motions his body would soon make—if she survived this pleasure long enough to get that far.

He moved his mouth higher, so he could swirl around her clit, but two of his fingers pushed into territory that hadn't been breached for a long while. It hurt for a moment, but she pushed through and was glad he was preparing her for his cock. Had he guessed how long it had been since she'd just decided to get it over with for her first time? There had been a couple of other clumsy attempts, but none satisfied her, so she had stopped trying. She was certain tonight wouldn't end in a faked orgasm and awkward parting.

Weston flicked his tongue rapidly across her, making her spasm and cry out as she started to come. Her sheath was still convulsing when he lifted her off the bed and onto his lap. She thought about suggesting the bed instead, but was distracted by his cock slowly pushing inside her opening. She rocked against him, her stomach fluttering with need and pleasure as he gave her an inch of himself at a time.

"Oh, Piper, I'm not going to last long. You're so tight." He seemed to push the words through gritted teeth as he rocked his hips, lightly bouncing her on his lap and up and down the length of his shaft.

She panted an incoherent reply as she sank fully on him, taking every bit inside. She thrust against him, and his hands cupped her buttocks, holding her against him as they strained together. He was big and throbbing inside her, which set off a pulsing deep inside her. Her stomach tightened, and warmth spread through her as her climax crested. She clung tightly to him and buried her face in his shoulder as she started to come. In the moment, she wanted to shout her release and bit into his shoulder instead to muffle it.

He grunted, but it sounded like pleasure, and his cock stiffened inside her. A moment later, he gave in to his own release, filling her with his pleasure. "Piper..." Her name was a low moan on his tongue.

Abruptly realizing her teeth were still in his flesh, she pulled away and looked down. Piper winced at the teeth marks she'd left in his skin, but then a dark surge of satisfaction filled her. She had marked him, and he was hers.

They stayed like that for a long while, and she didn't even try to keep track of time. It was too amazing to be on his lap, with his shaft still inside her. When she became aware of him hardening again inside her a short time later, she started riding him in a more leisurely fashion. It was going to be a long night, and she looked forward to every second of it.

# Chapter Ten

_W hat if it wasn't an accident?_

The question popped into Piper's mind almost as soon as her eyes opened the next morning. She looked around for a moment, unsurprised to find Weston gone. He had duties to which he must attend, and he'd thoughtfully let her sleep. The imprint of his head on the pillow beside hers suggested he hadn't left her long ago though.

_What if it wasn't an accident?_

The question returned to the forefront of her mind, and she struggled to find context for a moment, certain she'd been dreaming about something. The question had followed her into wakefulness.

After a moment of concentrating, she couldn't recall any dream she might've had, but the context came through clearly. What if her near-miss last night hadn't been an accident? What if her inadvertent exposure to horg root hadn't been such a coincidence after all? Was it possible someone didn't want her to have Pippa's baby?

With the idea buried firmly in her mind, she slid out of bed and paused for a few moments as she tried to organize her thoughts. It soon became clear that she needed to see Gretel. It certainly wasn't too early to do a DNA test, and that might give her a clue about who was trying to harm her—if it wasn't all just coincidental. Her thoughts were jumbled as she took a quick shower before sliding into comfortable clothes and leaving the quarters.

It was nerve-racking walking down the hall, feeling like every eye was on her and aware of her thoughts and movements. She couldn't shake the idea that someone was trying to kill her, and not knowing who it was might be even worse than the fear of it happening. She couldn't trust anyone, which only increased her fear to the point of outright paranoia. By the time she reached Medical, she was half-convinced an entire cadre of spies was following her.

She shook her head as she stepped inside, knowing she needed to calm down. There was no proof she was even in any kind of danger, and freaking herself out wouldn't do anything to help her keep a clear mind and sharp eyes if she was under attack.

Gretel came to meet her. "Did we have an appointment this morning?"

Piper shook her head.

"I heard about the accident last night. Were you injured?"

Piper shook her head again. "The beam never touched me, but it got me thinking." She looked around. "Is there somewhere we could talk a little more privately?"

With a frown that revealed her confusion, Gretel nodded and led Piper into her office, where she closed the panel behind them. Gretel took a seat behind the desk, and Piper sat across from her. "Can you do a DNA test on the child?"

Gretel's eyes widened for a moment, but she didn't look particularly shocked. "I can. Are you sure you want me to? It might lead to a lot of questions..."

Piper firmed her shoulders. "I need to know..."

"Who's the father?" asked Gretel softly, her gaze darting around as though she suspected they were being overheard. "I assume you want me to do this discreetly, so it doesn't appear in any official records?"

She nodded.

Gretel frowned. "Medical laws require me to get the permission of both parents for a DNA test." She bit her lip. "Officially, that would be Weston, but—"

"My sister had no interest in maintaining fidelity," said Piper, finishing her unspoken sentence.

Gretel nodded. "The guidelines are less clear when the father's identity is unknown, and since this isn't going in any official report, I suppose I don't need the commander's permission."

"What do you need from me?"

"I just need a sample of chorionic villi from the fetus. I have Pippa's DNA on file—which can differ from yours by a slight margin despite being identical twins—but it could take days to go through the entire database. At worst, I might not be able to narrow it down beyond species if there's no direct sample from the father in the database."

Piper nodded. "I'm almost completely certain any lover she took would be human, so that might speed things up?"

"It should, and his DNA should be in the database, since every child's sample is collected at birth."

They returned to the exam room, where Gretel collected a sample. It was a briefly uncomfortable procedure, but over with quickly. She was just pulling her pants above her gently rounded stomach when Gretel looked up from the device in her hand.

"She's definitely not the commander's," she said softly. "The genome sequencing isn't finished, but there're already enough differences in the developing profile to exclude him."

Piper nodded, absorbing the confirmation without allowing herself to analyze it at the moment. She was still relieved that he hadn't fathered the child inside her, but she imagined it would make it more difficult emotionally for Weston to not be the father.

Or perhaps not, because it certainly absolved him from Pippa's absurd claim that he had forced her to do something she didn't want to do. Piper was angry at her sister all over again on Weston's behalf, but took a few deep breaths to calm down.

"It'll take a couple of hours to sequence the genome, but at that point, I'll be able to let you know if there's any DNA besides human. If not, we'll know where to focus our search."

Piper slipped off the table. "One more thing, Gretel. Do you have any idea who my sister might've been involved with?"

Gretel tilted her head for a moment, looking like she was thinking. After a moment, she shrugged. "I really can't say for sure, but I know she spent a lot of time around the bar on the concourse. The bartender might have some idea."

A dart of dread filled Piper at the news, and it fit together neatly. If the bartender was the father the child inside her, he'd had easy access to the horg root that had tainted her drink. Maybe he hadn't been trying to kill her, but just remove the baby inside her. A fierce wave of protectiveness shot through her, and her lips clenched. She nodded at Gretel before leaving Medical with Gretel's promise that she would comm her once she had results.

For a moment, Piper debated about contacting Weston with what she had learned, and what she suspected. However, knowing he was still busy with the Jrojan delegation kept her from doing so.

That, and it didn't seem like the kind of news she should deliver over the comm system, and she didn't think he had time to meet with her in person. He was engrossed with diplomatic negotiations, so he didn't need to be distracted by the reality that he had not fathered the child in her womb, or deal with the absolute proof that Pippa had been unfaithful when his attention was split.

That same feeling of paranoia clung to her, but she tried to keep it in a healthy balance as she walked through the station to the concourse area. The bar was as easy to find as it had been before with Hadley.

The place seemed to be between rush times, though there were still customers at the bar and scattered around the tables. She took a seat at the bar, the farthest away from anyone that she could manage.

She was relieved when Anthracite approached her, because he was the one she suspected. It could be any employee at the bar though, and any one of them could've slipped horg root into her drink. She managed a small smile as he offered her another firewheel, like she'd had before. "You have a good memory," she said carelessly, amazed at how unconcerned she sounded.

He shrugged. "You're Pippa's sister, aren't you? And the commander's surrogate? Kinda makes you memorable around here."

Her fake smile faded a bit. "Were you close to Pippa?"

He didn't answer as he moved off to make her drink. He returned a couple of minutes later after serving someone else to place the drink in front of her. She asked him again, "Were you close to Pippa?"

He frowned. "I certainly saw a lot of her—sometimes here in the bar, though she didn't drink much," he said cryptically.

Piper stared at his horns for a moment, noting how they gleamed under the light. He was handsome, and perhaps Pippa would've compromised her own sense of superiority to take him as a lover. "Do you know who her boyfriend was?" She asked the question boldly and waited for a shifting in his expression.

He seemed startled by the question, but his neutral expression revealed nothing a second later. "I treat confidences as confidential," he said in an offhand manner.

"You don't deny she had a boyfriend?"

He shrugged as someone called his name. "It wasn't my business."

She drummed her fingers on the bar. "Isn't there something you can tell me? Or were you guarding her secrets for another reason?"

He looked puzzled for a moment before his expression shifted to anger. "I'd never do that to the commander. Their problems were between them, and I wanted nothing to do with it. I don't tell tales, and I don't see how it's your business what she was doing before she died. If anyone's, that's the commander's business, isn't it?"

"It's my business, because—" She got no farther as he moved away from her to see to two other patrons. She waited a few minutes, growing more impatient as it became clearer and clearer that he had no intention of returning to face interrogation. She probably hadn't handled it well to start with, and she finally slipped off the bar stool with a heavy sigh. Her drink remained untouched, as she wasn't about to make that mistake again.

Temporarily stymied, she left the bar and walked a bit. She detoured around Abira, not wanting to buy another one of her charms. She feared the alien lady would chastise her for not wearing the one she'd already purchased, and she managed a small smile at the thought.

As she walked, it occurred to her that all of her sister's things were somewhere on the station. Feeling a glimmer of hope, she lifted her comm and paged Weston. He came on the screen and looked a little harried, but had a warm smile for her.

"Do you know where they stored Pippa's things after removal from your quarters? There's something I want to look for." She held her breath as she waited to see if he would ask what, having decided not to tell him her suspicions until she had something more concrete to go on.

He was apparently too busy to really think about it. "It's in the storage area near the oxygen scrubbers sector. There's a handy little alcove on the second level that works well for storage for personnel." He looked away for a moment as Hadley called his name. "I have to go, but you'll need the PIN to get in. It's A-B-C-1-2-3-4."

If she had time, she might've teased him about the simplicity of the code, but her heart wasn't really in it. Her mind was too busy turning over the theories in her brain and hoping to find a different connection that might lead her to an answer. "Thanks. I'll see you tonight."

The connection severed with a small ding, and she dropped her arm back to her side. There was a station information kiosk a few stores over, where she called up a map of Olympus Station. The storage area wasn't labeled, but the oxygen scrubbers were. She expected it to be off-limits when she reached it, but perhaps the PIN would grant her access to the entire area.

She hurried on her way, reaching the oxygen scrubber section a few minutes later. It was a massive part of the station that took up five levels and required authorization to enter. She was expecting that, but had a nice surprise when she greeted the employee standing guard. "I'm Piper Marston, and I need to get in there. The commander will give approval—"

The man waved a careless hand. "I received a comm from him a few minutes ago. You're clear to enter." He didn't ask what she wanted inside the sector and clearly didn't care as he opened the door for her.

She stepped inside, and it closed behind her a moment later with a hiss. She headed toward the lift, but hesitated. Recalling that was how Pippa had met her end, she questioned for the first time if Pippa's accident had been an accident either. It was a troubling thought and enough to send her to the stairs instead.

She climbed to the second floor and soon saw an arrow and sign marked "Employee Storage." She followed the signs down and around the twisting corridor, until she reached an area labeled Storage. There was a key pad and also a biometric panel, and she put her hand on it tentatively, expecting the system to request the PIN Weston had given her. She was startled that it accepted her, and even more startled when it identified her as Pippa. Apparently, Pippa had similar biometrics to her that plastic surgery hadn't changed.

That was convenient for the moment, though she'd want her biometrics updated if she was staying on the station—and she couldn't imagine leaving. She stepped inside. It appeared to be a circular room, and there was a directory right by the entrance. She typed in Pippa's name and got the storage cubicle number, which was halfway around the circle.

She hurried toward it and opted for the biometric panel over the keypad. Once again, the system accepted her as Pippa. The door opened for her, and it was little more than the size of a footlocker, though vertically oriented. Most of her sister's large things were gone, and it was clear Weston hadn't bothered to keep the vast majority of them.

What remained appeared to be keepsakes, including a clear picture frame on the top that displayed a videogram of Wesley running, which repeated on a continuous loop. On the other side, it immortalized a lock of his hair, and she grew choked up for a moment as she imagined Pippa finding comfort in it.

While she had feared Pippa, she'd never hated her sister the way Pippa had hated her. Piper hadn't loved her either, finding it impossible to do so when Pippa couldn't be trusted. While holding Wesley's picture, for the first time in a long time, if ever, she could pity her.

She blinked back tears and carefully set aside the picture frame as she dug through the container. A brief time into her search, she found a book. It looked similar to the diaries Pippa used to keep, though Piper had never taken up the habit of recording her thoughts. She had been convinced Pippa would've read anything she'd written and used it against her, so her thoughts had been another thing she kept locked inside to protect herself from Pippa.

A twinge of guilt shot through her as she pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner on the book. Fortunately, the reader was fooled by her DNA as easily as the entry for the storage area, and it opened.

She soon realized it wasn't the old-fashioned electronic journals her sister used to write in meticulously by hand with a stylus when they were younger. This book contained an index of videograms she'd recorded and were neatly labeled by date, with tags and even subject matters for some entries.

She tried a simple search first for "baby." There was an entry from before she was going to marry Weston, and it was particularly difficult to watch as Pippa gloated about having won him from Piper. Piper shook her head, though there was no point in arguing with the recording of a dead woman. It hadn't been a competition, because she hadn't been brave enough to put herself into it.

The next entries were about Wesley, and she skimmed those. She couldn't bear to think about the lost little boy for long, especially with a child in her womb.

Finally, she came to more recent entry, where Pippa was recording her satisfaction with a positive pregnancy test. "It was worth every penny. Anth's contact really earned his money for bypassing all the safeguards in the Biochip," she said with an obvious smirk of pleasure.

Piper frowned at that, wondering if Anth was short for Anthracite. It certainly made sense, but left her wondering why the bartender would've been agreeable to helping Pippa achieve an unauthorized pregnancy, and then turn around and decide to remove any evidence of it. It didn't make sense, but it could explain why he was reluctant to talk about Pippa. Maybe he'd known part of her plan and was afraid of being implicated.

The next entry about the baby was far more upsetting. Pippa was crying, and these appeared to be genuine tears. She was clearly in shock that her lover had refused to run away with her. Even worse, he was insisting on an abortion, but Pippa was certain she would change his mind. She seemed to think he just needed to hold the baby to fall in love with it and love Pippa enough to leave Olympus Station with her.

Seeing her anguish drove home to Piper that Pippa might've actually cared about this particular lover. She'd clearly gone to great lengths to manipulate him to fall in line with what she wanted, and she had been denied that. Whether it was the shock of one of her schemes not coming to fruition, or the shock of rejection, or a genuine broken heart that prompted her tears and obvious misery, Piper couldn't say. She didn't know her sister well enough to guess.

A sound made Piper look up, and she automatically closed the book without thought and placed it back in the locker as she looked down the row and recognized Baxter Frink a few cubicles away. Her heart started racing. At first, she was just angry as she remembered his snide comments from the previous evening. Then fear started to take over as a new possibility occurred to her.

"Are those Pippa's items? I thought I heard her voice."

She shrugged. "I was watching a videogram of hers."

He sneered. "Are you trying to figure out how to fully turn into Pippa by going through her things?" asked Frink with a nasty laugh.

Piper took a step back, trying to be casual about it, but he took a step forward to match. "I was just looking for something for the baby." She held her breath after uttering the word, watching his expression closely.

His features tightened for a moment as he frowned, but then his expression was neutral again. "How nice of you to carry the baby of the woman who hated you."

"How do you know she hated me?"

Baxter shrugged. "I assume it was common knowledge."

She didn't know him at all, but she was certain he was lying. "I doubt it was common knowledge, but perhaps it was her version of pillow talk? She did love to rant about me just existing."

Baxter chuckled. "That was enough to set her off. She kept almost obsessive track of you. She took pleasure when you suffered and was angry when you achieved anything of note—like your promotion to the Anjovian fern department lead a few months ago. I thought I'd never hear the end of that. You hadn't done anything to her as far as I could tell, other than being alive and sharing her DNA."

Piper shrugged again, struggling for nonchalance as she wondered why he was being so carelessly open about how well he'd known Pippa. Did he expect her to keep it secret, or was he going to ensure she didn't have a chance to tell anyone? She gulped quietly. "As you said, that seemed to be enough." She took another step back. "I found what I was looking for, so if you'll excuse me..." She started to go the long way around, which would avoid the need to pass Baxter.

"I'm just here to see to something myself."

Piper swallowed as he approached, trying to keep pace with him by taking a step back for every one he took forward. "Did you need something out of Pippa's locker?"

He shook his head, and he had a cruel grin. "I just need to tie up loose ends. I had to make it a priority when my comm alerted me that Gretel was running a DNA scan on the fetus."

She frowned. "How did you...?"

He shrugged. "I'm the rep on board. All such scans are automatically relayed to me, but I've had a special program searching for the possibility, in case someone got curious."

The sound of her comm going off in the silence made them both freeze, and she let out a shaky breath. Before he could tell her not to, she turned it on to accept the incoming call. She hoped it was from Weston, but it was Gretel's face that filled the small screen. She opened her mouth to ask the doctor not to say anything, but it was too late.

"I've sequenced the genome, Piper, and the child's fully human. In fact, the DNA was stored in the database, because he's stationed right here on Olympus."

Piper was sure of his identity before Gretel ever uttered the name. "That's okay. I'll just stop by later—"

"It's the Coalition Reproductive Board rep," said Gretel with a little laugh. "Can you imagine the gossip that would fly around here if that ever leaked out? And his career would be over so fast..."

"Hel—" Before she had a chance to finish, Baxter rushed forward, pressing her against the rail and slamming her comm, still on her wrist, against the clear composite material several times until it cracked. She tried to push back against him, but he was strong. He was trying to force her over the rail, and if she fell, there was no guarantee she would survive plunging two stories onto a hard surface.

That gave her impetus to fight harder, and she managed to push away a few inches from the rail before she found an opening. He was twisting to keep her against it, and it opened his legs enough that she was able to drive her knee into his groin.

With a sound like a deflating balloon, Baxter released her and dropped to the floor on his knees, cradling his testicles in his hands. She didn't wait around for the show as she took off running, reaching the exit to the storage room and plunging down the stairs as fast as she dared. She heard his feet behind her gaining quickly. He must've recovered faster than she would've expected if he was able to chase her and gain ground on her.

She was almost on the first floor when his hands hit the middle of her back, sending her flying forward. At the last moment, she managed to twist on her side and take the brunt of the impact with her hip. It was the strangest possible time for it to happen, but she swore she felt the baby kick for the first time as she landed with a jolt.

He loomed over her, obviously content that she couldn't quite catch her breath and get up to fight him. "All you had to do was miscarry. I tried to make this civilized, but you're as stubborn as Pippa. I blatantly told her why she couldn't have it, but she refused to get rid of it. That left me no choice but to get rid of her, but then wouldn't you know the commander had his really brilliant, altruistic idea to have you play surrogate?"

She was starting to be able to breathe again and managed to scoot back a few inches as pain radiated from her hip outward. She didn't think she'd done serious damage, but Piper was going to be sore for a few days—if she survived that long.

"I tried the horg root, since there was no reason to remove you as well, but you just couldn't manage to cooperate." He squeezed his hands into fists as he walked with her, looming over her as she scooted backward. "I'm afraid I have no more time to try to part you from the parasite, so you're just going to have to die too."

Taking a deep breath, Piper got to her knees. "What's the point? Gretel knows too."

"Gretel can die. So can Pippa's bartender buddy. He saw her slipping into my quarters more than once, and she confessed his friend helped her short-circuit her Biochip when I demanded to know how it could malfunction. I owe him a comeuppance anyway, but was planning to let everything settle a bit first."

He sneered. "I'm the Coalition Reproductive Board rep, and they stick me in quarters with the common riffraff. The bartender is my neighbor, and one of the maintenance people is on the other side of my quarters." He shook his head. "I should be in the executive area, where the commander is."

She ignored his rant about his inferior housing position. "We're not going to say anything, you know? Weston's going to raise the baby as his, so no one needs to know."

He arched a brow. "I'm sorry, but I can't trust you not to get _justice_ for Pippa. I can't trust anyone when it comes to my career and reputation. Pippa was a nice diversion, and I did love her mind games, but not when she turned them on me. I just couldn't allow that to continue—much like your ability to breathe."

He lunged forward and bent down, lifting her to her feet by her neck. Piper struggled when his hands closed around her throat, doing her best to displace his grip, but not managing to do much more than get a little bit of extra space and draw in an extra breath of air before his hands clamped tighter.

He was only a little bit taller than her, and perhaps another forty pounds heavier, but he was strong. She dangled in the air from his hands, kicking out with her feet in an attempt to find a perch on anything, hoping it would help alleviate the pressure on her throat created by his hands strangling her as hard as he could. Her vision was going gray at the edges, and though she fought, she couldn't seem to resist the rising darkness.

# Chapter Eleven

Weston knew he should be focusing on the alien delegation, but his thoughts kept straying to Piper. He wondered what she wanted out of Pippa's storage area, and he was concerned it might cause her an emotional breakdown. He had yet to see her cry, and maybe she was beyond tears for Pippa, just as he had been, but the possibility that she might break down and have no support if she did so stuck with him.

He was on the verge of rescheduling the meeting when his comm beeped. He answered it discreetly, turning his back to the group and bringing it close to his face.

The features of the Head Engineer filled the screen, and his expression was grim. "I'm dealing with the repair from the beam that fell, Commander, and there's something you should know."

"What's that, Captain?"

"It was cut."

Weston frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"The composite was cut." He moved his comm to show a smooth line across the clear beam before moving it to reveal a long implement wedged into the remaining beam. "It took a laser saw to cut through this, which is what this is, sir." He held up another small device in front of his comm that looked like a black rectangle. "This is a transponder that receives a signal, and I assume it was connected to the saw that cut the beam, so it could be done at a precise moment. There's no way it was accidental."

Weston's scalp tingled, and the hair on the back of his neck rose. "We need to find out who did it."

The captain grinned. "I already know, sir. There's a security camera in the vicinity. The main camera is apparent, but the backup ones aren't so obvious. I doubt our saboteur realized there's a second set of security cameras that records everything on Olympus Station, which runs on a separate circuit and uploads to a different server."

Weston was familiar with the second, discreet set of surveillance cameras all over the station. "Who did this?"

"Baxter Frink, the Coalition Reproductive Board rep, according to the computer."

Weston was confused and could find no discernible motive. "I wonder why? Is he anti-alien or something?" Some of the Repo Board had chilling ideas about the need to keep human DNA pure from mixing with alien DNA.

In the end, it was simply a rhetorical question, and the captain shrugged an answer. "I can't tell you that, but I wanted you to know as soon as I had some concrete evidence, Commander."

"I appreciate that, Captain." He ended the call a moment later and paged Central Dispatch. "Locate Baxter Frink."

"Certainly, Commander." The voice was smoothly feminine, and it was almost impossible for the average person to recognize it as artificial intelligence. A moment later, it said, "He's in the oxygen scrubber sector, Commander."

Weston's blood chilled at the words, and he cleared his throat, but still couldn't speak for a moment as fear assailed him. "Locate Piper Marston."

"She's in the oxygen scrubber sector, Commander."

"Who's in her vicinity?"

"Just one person. Baxter Frink, Coalition Reproductive—"

He pressed the button to end the communication, not needing to hear Frink's official title again. He got up and moved away from his chair, rushing to the exit of the conference room.

"Where are you going?" asked Ambassador Krill, his frill ruffling in his irritation.

"Hadley, you'll have to take over. You have my full authority, but there's been an emergency." He took no further time to explain as he rushed from the conference room and started running. The oxygen scrubber sector was on the far side of the station, and he was looking for any sort of transport as he ran.

Weston burst into the oxygen scrubber system with the security contingency he'd paged _en route_ in tow. They had met up a short distance away, and he'd debriefed them quickly as he slammed the cart he'd taken from Maintenance to a stop and tumbled out while it was still moving.

Now, he stumbled to a halt, shocked by the sight before him. There was no one there, but pieces of broken components scattered the ground. He bent to pick up the largest one and recognized a section of the screen from someone's comm system. Piper's?

"Spread out and search all the floors. Find them." He stood up as he issued the order, running up the stairs behind the guards. They split off at different levels, leaving him to take the fifth one. He wasn't certain if it was instinct, but he was convinced Piper was on the floor, and probably with Baxter. That meant she was in danger. Caution dictated he take the blind corners slowly, but he was rushing like a mad fool instead.

When he caught sight of them, Weston skidded to a halt, his shoes making a screeching sound as he slid the last couple of feet before stopping. Frink held her pressed against the rail, and though she looked unconscious, that didn't seem to be enough for him.

"Don't even think about pushing her over," said Weston in a hard, angry tone.

Frink jumped, clearly so intent on his task that he hadn't even heard Weston's squeaky shoes. He turned slowly, but didn't let go of his hold on Piper, who dangled against the rail. "It's harder to do than I thought it would be," he said with a look of stunned surprise. "It was one thing to program a lift to malfunction and time it just right so that Pippa was on board when it did, or cut through a beam, but it's a lot more visceral to have a truly hands-on role."

Weston wasn't certain what he was talking about, but inferred he was referring to murder. "Set her down away from the rail carefully."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Commander. I have to remove the proof. I'll get rid of her and tie up the other loose ends, and it's over. Right now, it's your word against mine, which will carry weight on Olympus Station, but won't be enough to convict in a Coalition Tribunal—especially if I cast doubt about your motives by bringing to light your questionable relationship with your dead wife's sister."

Weston barely stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "It's not just your word against mine. The Head Engineer found evidence of your sabotage on the beam a little while ago."

Frink smirked, clearly overconfident. "Anyone could have placed that, Commander, and without a working camera—"

Weston took pleasure in interrupting him. "You might have disabled the main camera, but there's a second set of security cameras all over the station. They're a well-kept secret—on a separate circuit, and the images are stored on a separate server. That's how I know you were the one who placed the timed cutting device on the beam and tried to kill her at the party last night. Your image is captured on a videogram for the world to see."

Frink paled and swayed backward, which inadvertently brought Piper from the edge of the railing. Her body fell on the floor a moment later, and Frink looked around the area with a darting gaze, his panic obvious. "I've worked so hard to get where I am. Pippa wanted to take it all away with that unwanted baby, and now you've finished the job."

"I didn't do this, Frink."

He shook his head as he looked at Weston, seeming somehow disconnected from reality. "She really hated you, you know? More than once, she said she should've let Piper have you, and would've if it wouldn't make her useless sister happy." He scrunched his brow. "How did this happen?"

"You made an irresponsible choice by trusting Pippa, who probably tampered with her Biochip. I suspect it wouldn't be the first time she did so." Weston darted his gaze to Piper, who was still unconscious, but appeared to be breathing. He let out a breath of his own at the proof of life. "Then you compounded your error by trying to destroy the evidence and killing Pippa. Finally, you made your biggest mistake."

Frink frowned. "What was that?"

"You went after the woman I love. There's no way you're going to walk away from this without consequences." He stood up and moved closer, intent on retrieving Piper.

Frink's eyes widened, and perhaps he misread Weston's intentions—or perhaps Weston made no attempt to hide his murderous rage. Or perhaps he just realized there was no way out that allowed him to keep his position and reputation. Whatever the reason, Baxter started to run. Weston ignored him, bending down beside Piper to lift her into his arms. Frink wouldn't get far before security intercepted him, and she was his top priority.

Suddenly, there was a clank and a scream, and he looked up in time to see Frink hopping over the rail of the fifth-floor area. For a moment, his arms wind-milled, and then he seemed to get into a position like he thought he was going to land on his feet and just walk away. Weston didn't bother to watch his descent and couldn't see the final collision with the first floor, but he heard the sound a moment later and winced.

After that, his thoughts returned immediately to Piper, and he hurried from the oxygen scrubber sector as he called for emergency transport to Medical. They met him halfway, and he surrendered her to the gurney this time, since they had oxygen. One of the women immediately slipped a cannula in her nose, and the other was examining her throat while the third directed the hovering gurney.

Weston stayed right beside them as they made their way into Medical, and Gretel rushed to meet them. He stood by, close enough to be able to hold her hand, but trying to stay out of their way as they worked on her. It was the sweetest sounded he'd ever heard when she drew in a ragged breath a few seconds later, and her chest rose and fell visibly from the effort. He let out an exhale of his own and held tightly to her hand as she returned to him. He vowed this time he'd never let her go again.

# Chapter Twelve

Piper woke with a headache and obvious confusion, but that quickly cleared when she saw Gretel hovering over her, and Weston's face in the corner of her vision. She looked at him first, managing a small smile and a raspy, "Hello." She blinked as the last few minutes came back to her, and with a gasp, she brought her hand to her neck to feel the puffed flesh. "It was Frink. He tried to kill me."

"He failed," said Weston coldly. He didn't bother to share Frink's fate with her, and she didn't ask when he added, "You're safe now."

Gretel dismissed the EMTs, and it was just the three of them. She looked visibly upset. "Did he know?"

Piper was reluctant when she said, "He overheard you telling me he was the father." She stretched a hand in Weston's direction, clinging tightly when he took it. "You aren't the father, as we suspected."

"That's fine. This is still our baby."

Piper nodded as she looked at Gretel again. "Please make sure the paternity doesn't appear in the records, Gretel."

Gretel frowned. "I don't know if I can. This has gotten bigger than just a DNA test."

Piper battled a wave of protectiveness that swept through her so she could find her voice again, feeling it nearly buried under the sudden onslaught of emotion. "If they find out Weston isn't the father, and she was conceived in an unauthorized relationship, the next Coalition rep will force an abortion. You know that's true—and you should also know I'll never allow that. I'd go on the run first."

"And I'll be beside her." Weston's hand tightened around hers.

Gretel hesitated before she nodded. "The rules are draconian, and I want to help you, but I'm not sure how to hide this."

Silence fell for a moment before Weston spoke, "It's simple enough. All we have to do is modify the records so it reflects that he was angry with me for some reason. We'll think of a pretext. He decided to hurt me by first getting rid of Pippa, and then going after Piper. That way, his crimes are recorded, but not the true circumstances. I can live with that little lie if you two can."

"Without hesitation," said Piper firmly.

Gretel licked her lips for a moment, and then nodded. "Under the circumstances, I certainly see the need to slightly distort the official record. As far as I'm concerned, the DNA test never happened, and once the child's born, and your name is on her birth certificate, Weston, that will be all that's legally required to preserve her citizenship status if the truth ever comes out."

"Thank you, Gretel," said Piper as she sat up. Her throat still hurt, but she was breathing freely now. "Can I go now?"

"No," said Weston and Gretel together.

She shot them both a disgruntled look. "I'm not sure I like it when you two team up on me."

"Too bad," said Weston, but with an indulgent chuckle.

When they returned to his quarters almost an hour later, she was cleared for resumption of duties, but ordered to use an ice pack and take inflammatory reducers for the next twenty-four hours. As soon as the door closed behind them, Piper turned and collapsed into Weston's arms. "I don't know how you managed to know I was in trouble, but thank you for showing up when you did."

His arms tightly around her, and it was the best feeling in the world. "I found out the beam nearly falling on you wasn't an accident. I thought maybe he was anti-alien for a moment, and it wasn't until Central Dispatch told me he was with you that it occurred to me he was probably the father of Pippa's child. I came running."

She snuggled closer. "Thank you. If you'd been even a few minutes later..." She shuddered as she trailed off, unable to remember much past him strangling her to a state of near unconsciousness before taking her up the stairs, when he'd dragged her five flights by her shoulder and shirt, paying no attention to how he bruised her skin, or the way he slammed her against the stairs over and over.

Once they'd reached the top, and Baxter told her she was going to have an inconvenient fall, he'd resumed strangling her before she could get away from him. That was all she remembered until waking in Medical, and she was relieved that she wouldn't have to carry those memories for the rest of her life. A blank spot in her memory seemed like a kindness under the circumstances.

"It didn't take long to figure out his mistakes. The biggest mistake he made was going after the woman I love."

Piper froze, staring at him with wide eyes. "Are you talking about me?"

He arched a brow. "Of course I'm talking about you. I think we've established by now that Pippa certainly wasn't the love of my life. She was _my_ biggest mistake."

Piper licked her lips. "I just didn't expect you to love me already, I guess."

He frowned. "It's been weeks, and we've been through a lot together. I hope the drama's over now, but don't be alarmed. I don't expect you to feel the same way for me yet. It's going to take time, and I—"

She reached out to put her finger against his lips in a gentle gesture to shush him. "I love you too, Weston. I've loved you for years, even when I thought I had managed to stop loving you."

He pulled her close, and she melted against him as his lips covered hers. They shared a long, intense kiss before she gathered her thoughts with a deep breath when they broke apart moments later.

"You're sure about raising the baby as ours?" It was too late to change her mind and had been since she'd agreed to host the growing fetus, because she couldn't terminate it now. The reality was, he could change his mind though, and the thought frightened her.

"Of course I'm sure. Are you?" he asked warily.

She nodded. "I'd like us to be a family." She felt shy as she made the admission and was unable to meet his gaze after she said the words.

After a moment, he nudged up her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. "I'd like that too. I love you, Piper."

She leaned against him again, brushing her lips against his before saying, "I love you too, Weston." She was finally getting everything she'd always wanted, and she managed to let go of the last of her anger and resentment toward Pippa as Weston kissed her again.

Her sister hadn't deliberately brought them together. In fact, she'd done everything she could to keep them apart, but Pippa was no longer part of the situation. Her petty games and jealous whims no longer mattered. Even if she'd still been alive, she couldn't have hurt either of them again when they were this secure in their love for each other and future together.

# Epilogue

"Can I hold him now?" asked Lena as she bounced up and down. Her excitement was visible, and Weston laughed.

"As soon as you sit down, little miss." He bopped her nose gently as he said the words, nodding his head toward the sofa.

With a disgruntled sniff, Lena climbed up onto the couch and thrust out her stubby little four-year-old arms for her baby brother. Weston took Caden over carefully, lowering him into Lena's arms as Piper followed behind him.

She put her arm around his waist and leaned against him, and he reciprocated by wrapping his around her waist and squeezing her hip gently. He needed to get her to bed, because she needed her rest to recover from childbirth, but he was sure she didn't want to miss this special moment either, when their daughter met their son for the first time.

"I thought he'd have more hair," said Lena with a hint of disappointment. Her lips formed a pout when she looked up at them. "I had all that hair in my baby pictures, Momma." She still had a mass of blonde curls that no one seemed to question. Weston was glad Pippa had kept her hair artificially blonde, so no one made a connection to the blond Frink and Lena. He'd mostly stopped worrying about discovery, but he couldn't help feeling protective of his daughter.

Piper shrugged. "Every baby is different." She leaned closer, wincing from pain. He wished she hadn't been so stubborn as to decline the last round of pain blockers. But she'd wanted her senses clear, she'd said, and wouldn't budge. "I think he's beautiful as he is, with just wispy black hair. What do you think?"

Lena studied her little brother with utmost seriousness. "He's not as pretty a baby as I was, but he's nice."

Weston chuckled, and he could see Piper struggling not to do the same. He rubbed her back in a soothing fashion before bending down to lift Caden from Lena's arms. When his daughter protested, he shook his head. "He needs to eat, and Mommy needs to lie down. It's hard work having a baby."

Piper snorted at him. "As if you'd know."

He grinned. "I've been through it three times."

His wife outright laughed then. "You've been beside me while I went through it twice and once with Pippa. Trust me when I say it's not exactly the same thing."

Weston lifted a shoulder. "I'll concede that. Let's get you two settled, and then maybe Lena would like to play a game of chess?"

Lena bounced in her seat, looking almost as excited about that prospect as she had been about meeting her baby brother. She was precocious and had taken to the game easily. Weston hoped it was no indication that she had inherited Pippa's gift for emotional stratagems but had no real fear about that. She was far too kind and open, just like Piper, to be tainted by Pippa's worst features.

"I'm going to beat you this time, Daddy," she said with charming confidence.

Weston laughed again, realizing he laughed a lot and had since Piper came into his life. After miserable years with Pippa, he didn't take for granted any of the happy moments he had with Piper, Lena, and now Caden. Life was as perfect as it would ever get, and that was perfect enough for him.

Get the rest of the books in the Olympus Station Series:

Alien Prince's Secret Baby:

<https://books2read.com/u/bzvPZj>

* * *

Security Agent's Alien Bartender:

<https://books2read.com/u/mvZLQX>

# Bonus Excerpt of Alien Prince's Secret Baby

Hadley ran as fast as she could until she reached the bend in the corridor that would bring her in view of the alien prince and ambassador awaiting her attention. At that point, she slowed to a stop, took a deep breath, and smoothed her uniform before stepping into sight and walking toward them at a more sedate pace. She could see Krill's curl of the lip, which indicated he was disappointed to see her instead of Weston. Her gaze flicked to the prince, and Nykal's obvious appreciation warmed her. It was clear he preferred having her to Weston.

"Where's the commander, Captain Wells?" Krill spoke in a clipped way that suggested he had little time to spare for her.

She forced a pleasant smile to remain on her face. "He's with..." She trailed off for a moment, uncertain how to identify Piper. His surrogate? She really didn't want to delve into the ugly history between Piper and her twin sister Pippa, who had been married to the commander until her death recently.

She settled for saying, "There's been an emergency with the mother of his child. That was why he had to run earlier, and thank you for understanding why we had to cut short the meeting. He's asked me to fill in for him for now, so I'll be leading you on a tour of Olympus Station."

Krill looked put out, but Nykal's grin seemed to transmit he was happy to see her. The smile made his already handsome, if intense, face less intimidating. She'd barely interacted with the prince yet, but he seemed fairly approachable anyway. It was difficult not to stare at him, though she had seen many aliens in her career as second-in-command of one of the Coalition's main outposts.

The Jroj were a relatively recent addition to the Coalition, and their language database hadn't even been fully integrated into the Coalition's yet. They were humanoid, but faintly exotic with their light-orange skin and the faintest ripple of black stripes throughout. Their skin reminded her of the extinct Earth tiger, which someone had pointed out in the briefing manuals she and Weston had received from the Coalition headquarters before the ambassador and prince's arrival. The pattern was much subtler than a tiger's though, and Nykal didn't seem to have same kind of killer instinct that appeared in images she'd seen of tigers.

She shivered slightly when she accidentally met Krill's gaze. _He_ did seem to have that same kind of cold edge that suggested he wasn't above predation. She tried not to have a negative opinion of him, especially since the ambassador was going to be stationed permanently on Olympus, but she hadn't liked him from the moment they met earlier.

"Please lead the way, Captain Wells."

She couldn't help a warm smile for the prince. "Please feel free to call me Hadley, Your Highness."

He nodded. "In that case, I insist you call me Nykal."

Krill cleared his throat. "That would be a breach of protocol, Your Highness."

Nykal shrugged in a careless fashion before lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I won't tell if you don't, Krill."

He stepped closer to Hadley, holding out his hand with the palm facing downward. She remembered that was an invitation to walk with him, and she reciprocated by putting her palm faceup against his hand, so the backs of their hands touched. The gesture felt awkward, but she couldn't deny a shiver of awareness went down her spine at the simple touch.

She giggled a moment later when Nykal added in a pseudo-whisper, "I'm sure he won't keep that to himself. Ambassador Krill is a stickler for decorum and etiquette. I'm probably currently being written up, with my transgressions broadcast to Parliament."

Though there was a teasing note in his voice, his gaze was unexpectedly serious for a moment before he seemed to mentally shrug it all aside. "What is this place?"

She showed him the level by extending her arm. "This is where we have our merchant shops, along with some eateries, and entertainment. We have a VR platform that's a favorite amongst those seeking recreation."

"Impressive. That's technology we don't have, though I've seen it mentioned in the notes."

"Have you had to do much studying for your trip, Your Highness? I mean Nykal?"

Nykal didn't get a chance to answer before Krill said, "There's been much study to prepare for our Coalition application, along with this visit. We studied the Coalition, and the aliens who form it for solar cycles, even before we began doing business with the Coalition, and long before we decided it would be strategically wise to join the union."

She nodded politely at Krill's response, though her question had been addressed to Nykal. She got the sense he wasn't one to enjoy sitting down and reading boring paper after paper. Or maybe she was simply projecting her own preferences onto him. She had done hours of study in preparation for this visit and the ambassador's arrival as well, but it was one of the more tedious aspects of her job.

She led them through the station, pointing out various places of interest. She made an effort to keep it professional and semiformal, but Nykal seemed determined to make it more like a friendly meeting than an official function. He made jokes and asked personal questions, but not so personal that they crossed the line. It quickly became obvious he wanted to know if she was involved with anyone, and he was trying to find that information by asking things like what color uniform her betrothed wore.

She spent a few minutes tapdancing around the questions, enjoying teasing him lightly with pretended obliviousness, before finally admitting, "I don't have a betrothed, or a partner. My duties on Olympus Station keep me much too busy."

Nykal heaved a sigh. "I understand that." He turned away from her to scan the room. "And what is this facility?"

She gestured to the five-story platform. "This houses our oxygen scrubbers, which keep us all alive—except for the Denarii ambassador, who has to wear a rebreather everywhere but her quarters."

Nykal seemed fascinated. "What's a Denarii?"

She held her hand about three meters high to indicate height. "The ambassador is about this tall, light pink, and covered with fuzz. She requires a much higher concentration of nitrogen than humans and most other humanoids in the Coalition, but her quarters are kept separate from the station to maintain the proper ratio for her, so she isn't required to wear the rebreather all the time."

"That's interesting. How—"

Krill interrupted the prince's question. "While we would like to discuss an ambassadorship, I have no intention of wasting time discussing the Denarii ambassador," said Krill in a stern voice. "Show me where my quarters will be, along with my workspace."

As Nykal sighed, she almost reminded him to use his manners, but then realized that Jroj might not use common courtesies like "please and thank you," or even know how to ask nicely—though the prince seemed to have far better manners, so she was probably giving Krill too much benefit of the doubt.

She nodded at him and led them from the oxygen-scrubbing room, seeing no need to take them through the intricacies of the system or tour each of the five levels that comprised the area. They took the lift system up a few floors to the diplomatic sector, where various ambassadors and embassies shared workspace. Their permanent living quarters were on the floor above.

The first sight when they stepped out of the lift was a clear wall that afforded them a view of the stars around them. It was a breathtaking sight that rarely failed to catch Hadley's attention, even if it was just for a few moments in the process of doing other errands. Today, she barely glanced at it, focused as she was on appeasing Krill.

Nykal apparently didn't share that concern, because he paused and moved closer to the wall, placing a palm against it. "It's quite humbling, isn't it?"

She frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"To see how small we are in the scheme of things, I mean. That's humbling. Olympus Station is quite sizable, approximately the size of one of our smaller cities, if my research hasn't failed me, yet seems minuscule when compared to the vastness of space."

She smiled at the poetry of his words and nodded. "I guess it is humbling. I haven't thought about it that way before, but you're right. Don't you have such a view from your planet?"

"The prince rightly stays mostly in the palace, Captain Wells. It isn't safe for him to venture out."

She forced a pleasant smile for Ambassador Krill, but couldn't imagine having to live that way. It was true she was technically trapped on Olympus Station, limited to escape only on her vacation times, but it never felt like she was imprisoned. She couldn't imagine being anywhere else, and she loved the place down to its last nut and bolt.

"Unfortunately, we don't have any windows like this in the palace, but I might insist upon having one installed," said Nykal with a small sigh before turning away from the view.

Hadley took that as her cue to continue the tour, so she led them down the corridor, turning twice, before approaching the office that was labeled with Ambassador Krill's name. She used her biometric print to open it, gesturing for them to come inside. "Do you know how to reprogram the biometric panel to recognize your authority, Ambassador Krill?"

The other man nodded, but wasn't really looking at her as he can glanced around his office. He sniffed lightly. "I assumed it would be larger."

Somehow, she held her patience and gritted her teeth as she led him to another door, which revealed a larger workspace. "This is for your use, and the first room is for any staff you might wish to bring with you."

He didn't look grateful or even annoyed. He just seemed rather neutral. "This will be adequate. Thank you, Captain. Now if you'll excuse us, the prince and I have things to discuss before our next meeting with the commander." He frowned slightly. "I trust the commander will be at our next meeting?"

Hadley couldn't stifle the urge to shrug, which wasn't particularly professional. She straightened her spine and stood straighter. "I'm not entirely certain, Ambassador Krill. It depends on his personal situation. As you can imagine, his family is his top priority."

Ambassador Krill shook his head. "That's always a failing among those in power. One can't effectively lead if their focus is divided between personal problems and far more important matters of state, or in the case of the station, security."

She tightened her hands into fists, but somehow managed to keep her tone sounding pleasant. "I'll be certain to relay that to him. Please call me if you need anything, and otherwise, I'll be back to escort you to dinner."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary, Captain." Krill was staring thoughtfully at the prince as he said the words. "If the commander is unavailable to dine with us as protocol establishes, we'll simply have something in our rooms."

Nykal frowned. "I prefer to go out and see more of the station."

Krill frowned. "You've had an adequate tour from the second-in-command, Your Highness. Protocol dictates the safe and wise course is to stay in your quarters until the next official function. By my count, that will be the reception—unless I'm mistaken, Captain Wells?"

Hadley briefly glanced at her wrist comm, though she had the schedule memorized. "That's correct, Ambassador Krill."

The ambassador nodded his darker orange head, which was bald instead of covered by the glossy brown hair decorating Nykal's. "In that case, I see no reason for us to disturb you until then."

With her mouth compressed tightly, she nodded to both before dismissing herself, though she'd already been sent away through Krill's manner. He made it obvious he wanted nothing to do with her, or at least as little as possible. When it came to the ambassador, that suited her just fine, but she was disappointed not to have a reason to spend more time with the prince.

She was surprised to receive a personal message later that evening, and even more surprised to see the prince's face on her vid screen when she accepted the call. "May I assist you in some way, Your Highness?" She wondered if the A.I. had rerouted the call to her if it had been meant for Weston. The last she'd heard from Weston, he would probably be occupied with Piper's health up until the day of the reception, so he might have shut off vid call functions.

"I thought we might sneak out to sample the VR platform?" He spoke in a teasing, yet enticing, fashion.

She couldn't hide her delight at the idea, feeling naughty and fully enjoying it. "What will Ambassador Krill say?"

"Hopefully, he'll say nothing, because he'll never know. If he finds out, it will be just another lecture to endure on _etiquette_ and _protocol_." He said the two words like they were something foul. "I might as well enjoy it if I'm going to be punished anyway, so are you up for acting as my guide, Hadley?"

She nodded, not admitting she was up for far more than that. "I'd be honored, Nykal."

"I hate to be a bother, but would you mind coming to my quarters to meet me, so I don't get lost?"

Hadley nodded. "Not a problem, but if you do get lost at some point while on the station, any of the kiosks located every few hundred feet offer information to orient yourself, and there's always the communication system. Our A.I. can guide you wherever you need to go."

"That's good to know. I'll see you soon."

With that, his image disappeared from the screen, and she turned it off.

Hadley started to the door, but froze when she looked down. She still wore her gray uniform. That wasn't exactly flattering, so she spent five minutes trading it for more casual clothing that was formfitting and didn't scream matronly aunt. After that, she rushed to the prince's quarters and tapped lightly on the door, half-afraid Krill was listening from his room next door and waiting to pounce on her at the slightest sign of interaction with the Prince.

To her relief, the panel slid open to reveal the prince, with no sign of Krill, and he stepped out to join her in the corridor. He'd shed the ornate black robe thing he'd worn before, and the lightweight crown that had been on his head was also gone. There was nothing overtly princely about him, though he was still charming and far too appealing for her common sense.

"You look far more relaxed." That was a too-forward thing to say, and she blushed as she murmured it.

"As do you." He reached out, lightly caressing her hair. "It's longer than I expected."

Hadley had forgotten she'd taken down the light-brown mass from its customary roll upon reentering her quarters after her shift ended. It hung around her face and down her back. "I keep thinking I'll cut it someday, but never have the time." Or the courage, since she happened to like her long hair. It wasn't strictly Coalition-standard, but no one objected as long as she kept it pinned up.

They chatted like old friends, and things were easy and peaceful between them even on such short acquaintance, as they made their way to the VR platform. There was a small line, and she started to move to the front to supersede those waiting on diplomatic grounds. She froze when Nykal put a hand on her arm, arresting her progress.

"Please don't inconvenience others on my behalf. I prefer we wait our turn, unless you're in a rush?"

She shook her head. "I don't mind waiting." If she got to spend more time with the handsome Jrojan prince, how could she mind?

"I haven't done anything this normal in several solar cycles."

She frowned. "You mean wait in line?"

He nodded. "There were many occurrences where the middle son had to wait in line, and I wasn't fawned over and treated with the same obsequiousness as my older brother, Mygal."

The name was familiar, and she struggled to remember where she'd heard it before. The knowledge came back to her suddenly when she recalled the Crown Prince of the Jrojan Empire had died in an accident ten solar cycles before. "You weren't expecting to inherit the throne, were you?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. There isn't a lot of freedom in the life of a Minor Royal Prince, but I was practically free to do anything I wished in comparison to the life I have now, after having the yoke of leadership thrust upon me. It's quite restrictive, and there's little room for fun."

"That sounds miserable." She bit her tongue, wondering if she should've been so blunt with her opinion.

He shrugged. "It certainly isn't what I planned, and it's unfortunate that the line of succession requires me to fill Mygal's place, because my younger brother, Vasar, would be a far more suitable king than I'll ever make."

The line had moved, and it was almost their turn now. "I'm sorry you're unhappy with your role, Nykal."

He shrugged. "It could always be worse." He managed a melancholy smile, but all that seemed to melt away when it was finally their turn a few minutes later. He was as excited as her little sister had always been on Christmas morning. The prince was practically bouncing in place with anticipation, which she found endearing—and also made it difficult not to laugh.

She approached the panel to scan her hand. "What kind of experience would you like?"

He bit his lip, looking indecisive. "I'm not sure. What do you suggest?"

"Some people enjoy sports recreation. There's a program that allows you to climb the Matterhorn, which is a high mountain on Earth. Or you can visit the Anjovian planes, which are so perfectly flat they can be used to calibrate levels. That's a tool that tells one if they're hanging an object straight."

He shrugged. "There's so much of the universe I haven't seen that I don't know where to begin. You choose."

After a brief hesitation, she selected Senufo. They stepped inside, and the room was blank for a moment as it loaded the Senufo program. A moment later, the replica of the planet flickered into view. "This is the place I love, Nykal."

"It's amazing." His eyes seemed as wide as saucers when he took in the areas of blank space between crystals of various sizes and colors. They were all naturally occurring, and though she'd never been on the Senufo home world, she was certain the VR platform offered an authentic replica.

She moved to one of the crystals that appeared to be growing from the floor, which was configured into the natural formation of stone, complete with irregular cracks and dips. Hadley sat down, patting the section beside her, and the prince joined her.

She pointed upward, and his mouth fell open again when he saw the stars above them. Senufo was in a particularly active section of its galaxy, and meteors streaked across the sky almost continuously. Everything had a faintly purple-green glow, though the crystals came in a variety of colors.

She instinctively relaxed. This was her favorite place and secret refuge. She'd never brought anyone here before.

As though he sensed that, he turned to face her, taking her hand in his. "Thank you for sharing this private moment with me, Hadley."

She shrugged a shoulder. "It's no problem, Nykal. I enjoy being able to share it with someone."

She thought he might kiss her, and she was certainly prepared to let him despite all the rules forbidding them from getting involved. It wasn't strictly Coalition policy, because there was nothing written down to address the situation either way, but she had received a book that filled much of the memory capacity of her datapad. It had encompassed all the rules by which the Jroj lived.

Among those was an embargo on propagating outside one's species, which automatically led to Jrojs being technically forbidden to date or romantically interact with any species but their own. With him being the Crown Prince, there were even more rules in place. Sitting here privately holding his hand, without a proper chaperone, was probably breaking at least five of them. She couldn't summon the energy to care at present. It felt too lovely to sit there beside the prince, his hand in hers, while they stared up at the lightshow sparkling above them.

When it was over, and he indicated he must return, she walked him back to his room and left him there. It took everything she had not to lean forward to kiss him, and she detected he was fighting the same battle himself. She was disappointed when he appeared to win it, and she forced herself to take a step back. She nodded her head at him. "I'll see you at the reception, if not before, Nykal."

He looked sad for a moment. "Yes, and thank you for this evening. It's something I'll never forget. You're someone I'll never forget." That seemed to be as close as he could come to any formal declaration of how he was feeling.

She understood the stoicism that kept any other declarations locked inside, and she wasn't about to verbally admit her attraction either. She doubted her body could hide it as well as her mind or face could. She simply nodded to him and took another step back, pressing the button on the outside that closed the panel. She needed the barrier between them to keep herself from crossing over the boundary and stepping into his room.

If she stepped into his world even marginally, she was certain it would be impossible to leave easily. She doubted she would even want to if it just involved the prince. She wanted him with a hunger she wasn't sure could be assuaged, and a need she couldn't quite explain. It wasn't just sexual. She was sure of that.

While she walked back to her quarters, she tried to analyze every second of the interaction between them, continuously returning to the tender instants they'd shared in silence, just holding hands and finding a peaceful moment to bask in each other. Even if that was all she ever got with the prince, it would be enough to fuel her most decadent fantasies. The memory would have to tide her over when she thought about him—and she was afraid she would spend far too much time thinking about Prince Nykal in the coming days.

# True North: Death & Destruction
# Blurb

Everything North Campbell believes about her life is a lie. She doesn't discover that until the night her father dies, and she learns he wasn't her father. He kidnapped her as a baby from her birth parents, Jim and Carol Allis. They seem ecstatic to find her, but she quickly learns they, along with their powerful dragon-shifter ally Pytor Douglas, have nefarious plans for her.

* * *

She runs straight into the arms of another mysterious group, and they tell her she's a Trueblood—descended from all the mythic races and capable of great power. She's at risk, but the Council assigns her six bodyguards, and the Oracle has seen her future husband is among the six.

* * *

North is dragged from realm to realm to learn how to use her powers. That task seems impossible—almost as impossible as choosing just one man from among the six mythics entrusted with her protection. How can she choose between a vampire, an angel, a demon, a witch, a dark elf, and a wolf-shifter when each of the men is perfect for her in different ways? Dare she risk everything and choose them all? Will she have a chance to make the decision, or will Pytor's group get her first?

* * *

**This is part-one of a seven-part completed serial.**

## 1

# Crisis

North was chopping wood when she heard a crash from the small cabin she shared with her father, Sam. He'd been feeling under the weather for the last few days, and she muttered to herself as she stopped chopping to scoop up the few pieces of wood she'd split. He needed to take better care of himself and also let her take care of him too. He was so stubborn, and he'd probably decided to spare her the trouble of looking after him by fixing his own soup. She just hoped he hadn't fallen, because she wasn't certain how she would get him up on her own.

"Are you up when you're not supposed to be?" She called the question as she stopped by the bin in the mudroom to dump the wood and strip off her stocking cap. When he didn't answer, her concern grew, and she rushed into the kitchen.

He was passed out in the middle of the floor, and his lips were blue. North rushed to his side, falling to the floor with a sharp jar to her knees that barely registered in her frantic rush to reach him. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't think you were actually hurt. I should have come right away."

His eyes flicked open, fluttering for a moment before closing again. "It's okay, baby. You couldn't have helped this." The words were little more than a rough rasp, and he was clearly having trouble breathing.

She placed her fingers against his carotid artery to check for a pulse. "What's going on? What do I do?" Her dad seemed to be on the verge of death, but she wasn't certain if that was a proper diagnosis. "Dad, open your eyes and tell me what to do." He was a healer, having once been a doctor in the city before moving her out to the remote cabin to protect her.

"Nothing you can do." His eyes opened briefly again, and it seemed to cost him a great deal to speak. "I've known this was coming for a while, North. You need to let me go."

She shook her head as tears started to stream from her eyes. "I can't do that. I have to get you help. We'll go to the hospital in the city." She trembled at the thought, gruesome stories of the fall of civilization rushing through her brain. Her dad had painted a grim picture of the remnants of humanity, but she would have to face them to see if she could find a hospital. Of course she'd read about them in her books, but her father didn't seem to think they even existed any longer. She wasn't willing to give up though.

Sam shook his head just faintly. "Just let me die, my dear, and stay here where you're safe." His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "Know you won't, but wish you would."

She sat with him for another moment until his breathing became less raspy, though deeper than she would've liked when he seemed to slip into a state of unconsciousness. She couldn't just sit there and watch her father die without trying to do something, and the first-aid kit and medicinal plants they kept on hand wouldn't do anything to help if she didn't know what was wrong with him.

Squaring her shoulders, she made the difficult decision to defy her father. It was the only firmly held rule that he had for her now that she was an adult—never leave the safety of their property high in the mountains. There would be predators wanting to prey on her, and she wouldn't be safe.

She'd just have to risk it for his sake, and if he survived, he could be angry with her later. Resolved, she stood up and walked into her father's study. It took her a few moments to search his items before she finally turned up the keys to the SUV he kept parked in the pole barn. Fortunately, she knew how to drive it, because she'd helped him gather logs and other supplies from the forest on their huge property for many years. She'd never driven it anywhere besides the woods, but it had to be basically the same. Right?

She rushed from the house, grabbing her stocking cap on the way, and used it to cover the brown curls trying to blow around her face in the whipping wind. Snow crunched under her boots, but at least it wasn't actively snowing at the moment.

She ran as fast as she could to the pole barn and threw open the doors, so she could retrieve the vehicle. She had it back at the front of the house as soon as she could, lined up as close as possible to the porch. Now she just had to get her father in there.

That presented a dilemma for which she didn't have an answer yet, but she slid out of the SUV and headed back into the house, going straight to her father on the kitchen floor, where he still lay. She shook his shoulder lightly and stroked a finger down his cheek. "Dad, can you hear me?"

There was no response, which made him completely passive. Perhaps that would make it easier to get him into the vehicle in the long run, because if he realized her intentions, he might try to fight and make it even worse for himself. And for her.

Almost experimentally, she tried lifting him, hoping perhaps to prop him up enough to wedge something under him, like the nearby rug, so she could drag him. To her amazement, she was able to lift him into her arms as she focused hard on doing so. It must have been the surge of adrenaline that came from knowing she had to act quickly, or he would die. She'd read stories of people lifting cars off loved ones in a panic, and that had to be what she was managing to do.

She grunted and strained under the effort of carrying him, but managed to half-carry, half-drag her father out of the house to the front porch. She wished she'd had the forethought to leave the door open as she laid him down carefully and opened it before going back to him.

North was afraid she wouldn't have that same surge of adrenaline that would allow her to lift him, but it came easily, as though her muscles had already learned what they needed to do. She was just thankful that the adrenaline hadn't yet faded and hoped it wouldn't leave her fatigued and unable to help him when it did.

She propped him as carefully as possible in the front seat, though he still rested awkwardly. After snapping on his seatbelt, she rushed around to the cab and put on her own as well. Then she took a deep breath and started driving down the gravel road that served as their driveway. In a few minutes' time, she moved past the farthest point she'd ever been before, and she was thankful the roads were clear enough for her to find and follow when she reached the edge of the property.

The road started out rough, but gradually grew smoother and better maintained the farther she drove. More than an hour after finding her father on the floor, she started to encounter heavy traffic. As North moved with the flow of traffic, she looked around for signs of devastation.

Her father had painted an awful picture of how humanity had ended up, but she wasn't seeing ruins and rubble. What she saw looked like images she had seen in the books she'd used for her education. She was completely confused by the lack of chaos and briefly wondered if perhaps humanity had rebuilt faster than her father had anticipated.

As they got closer to the city, her dread increased, even as her confusion deepened. Sam's breathing was raspy again, and she wasn't certain if they were going to make it to anything called a hospital in time.

Confusion sprang from the fact that the city was much better designed and maintained than she'd expected. Dad told her people had ruined their environment and wrought destruction, turning humans against humans. He'd taken her into the mountains to keep her safe and sheltered from the chaos, to protect her from the predators people had become.

She didn't see any evidence of that as she drove. She was afraid to look away from the road for too long, since she'd never driven in such conditions, but what she saw both intrigued and frightened her. It was nothing like she'd anticipated, and she found herself questioning the stories her father had told her for the first time in her life.

A blue sign with an "H" caught her attention, and she thought that was the symbol for a hospital, if she remembered correctly from the books she'd read. She merged to the correct lane and followed the signs until a large building came into sight. It was white and steel, with huge windows. Ambulances were parked around the area marked "Emergency," and she found a spot to park the SUV, uncaring if it was okay.

North hurried from the vehicle and ran into the entrance of the Emergency Department. She stood for a moment, searching for someone to help. It was an overwhelming, almost disorienting, experience to be surrounded by people. She had literally only seen the occasional person from a distance. Had she even talked to anyone who wasn't her father for years and years? Not since that time someone had taken a wrong turn down their driveway. She had said hello to the two men in the car, but when her father came out with his rifle, they'd driven off.

She recalled Sam being on heightened security for a time after that, even wondering if they should move. When no one else appeared, he'd finally dismissed it as someone genuinely taking a wrong turn.

Her voice refused to escape her for a moment as she stood in the middle of the room. Sick and injured people surrounded her, along with others milling about. They wore the same light-blue uniform. Scrubs was the word, right? She wasn't certain, but did know it identified them as medical staff.

Feeling almost paralyzed by shyness and uncertainty, but prodded to move by the knowledge her father might be dying at that moment, she moved to the desk. The first one to look at her was a tall man with long brown hair, neatly confined at his neck, and vivid brown eyes that flared with heat. For just a second, gold rings appeared around the irises, but then were gone—leaving her to doubt the veracity of her senses.

He stared at her for a long second, and there was an intense expression on his face that she wasn't sure how to interpret. He seemed...hungry.

When he flashed her a smile full of white teeth, that seemed to confirm her supposition. She shivered, but not entirely from fear. His look made her feel a myriad range of emotions she didn't have time to identify.

"What's wrong, miss?"

"My father." Her voice was a timid whisper.

He frowned, leaning closer. That brought his musky masculine scent to her nostrils, which made her already-thumping heart race. "What, precious?"

"My father is sick. Maybe dying. He's in the SUV." Thinking about her father, and the urgency of the situation, helped her conquer her momentary timidity. "Please help him."

He looked solemn. "I'll do anything I can for you, precious."

Even under the circumstances, North found it strange that he used the endearment twice in a row. It felt more personal than a casual "hon," like her father was prone to using in conversation. Not unpleasant. Just unusual.

"I'm going to see her father, Liz. Could you make sure the young lady is settled comfortably?"

"Yes, Dr. Scott." As the man now identified as Dr. Scott disappeared through the back, she came around the front and put a hand on North's shoulder to lead her to the bank of chairs.

## 2

# Loss

North walked with her, feeling almost claustrophobic with all the people around her. She wanted to keep her thoughts centered firmly on her father, but it felt like every eye in the room was focused solely on her.

It was surely her imagination, since she wasn't used to being in a situation where there was anyone besides her father, but it was still nerve-racking. She sat down when the registrar named Liz, according to her name tag, gestured for her to do so. North took the box of Kleenex the woman handed her with a smile, only then realizing tears dripped steadily from her eyes. She ripped a few out of the box and swiped at her face.

Liz sat down across from her, putting a reassuring hand on her wrist. "You look terribly distraught. May I do something for you, dear?"

North blinked through the rest of the tears, successfully quelling them after a moment. "I'm fine, but thank you." She appreciated the doctor asking his friend to watch out for her, and she appreciated Liz trying to be there, but she didn't know either one of them, and she would prefer to be alone. She just wasn't certain how to verbalize that without coming across as rude.

"May I get you a drink, or something to eat?"

She shook her head, unable to imagine performing such mundane tasks will her father's life remained in the balance.

With a small sigh, Liz stood up and moved away from her, returning to the desk. With nothing else to do, North watched her go from the corner of her eye, but remained tense as she waited to see if the woman would come back to her with yet another suggestion of how she might help. She didn't want to be ungrateful, but she needed quiet and space to process what was happening.

Liz paused near a corkboard and started shuffling through pages that were up there. With a firm nod, she must've found what she was looking for, because she removed a page and studied it for a long moment before glancing at North again in what was probably supposed to be a surreptitious manner. Since North was still looking at her, their gazes collided, but she quickly looked away. She didn't want to encourage Liz to come back to her.

After that, she lost track of, and interest in, what the registrar was doing as her thoughts turned to her father. She wanted to be back in the room with him, and she wished she had asked if she could be. She assumed the friendly doctor would've issued the invitation if she was allowed though. He'd been so kind, though they had only interacted for a couple of moments, and his brown eyes were so beautiful that she could get lost in their depths...

North dismissed the thought with a shake of her head and reached for one of the magazines piled messily on the table beside her. She chose at random and looked at the date, which indicated the issue was several months old. Thumbing through it idly, North's confusion about the world deepened as she read.

There was trouble in Korea, sanctions against Russia, and an investigation probing the United States government, but nothing that mentioned the collapse of civilization and the subsequent rebuild. Perhaps she shouldn't have expected it to be mentioned in a magazine that was twenty years past the date it had happened, but there was no mention of it even in the political stories, and one involving the relationship between the United States and China alluded to events that had happened after World War II.

A grim possibility occurred to her, though she didn't want to believe it. Had her father lied to her all her life, making her believe civilization had ended so that she wouldn't want to venture from the cabin? Had he painted an untrue past in order to control her future?

A sob ripped through her at the thought, and she barely stifled it with the tissue before making a loud noise. That couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Sam Campbell was the epitome of honest and open communication. He was also kind and loved her too much to ever do something like that to her. He wouldn't tell her that kind of lie, would he?

She hated that she had doubts about him, but reading further articles in other magazines and briefly watching the television only reinforced her doubts. How could the collapse of civilization have been ameliorated after just two decades to the point where there was no evidence that it had occurred? How could people care about things like sports scores and celebrity gossip, or a new way to prepare chicken, if billions had died in such a catastrophe just twenty years ago?

She was no closer to an answer when Dr. Scott appeared, and she could tell by his grim expression that he had bad news. She clutched the magazine in her hand hard enough to feel the spine digging into her palm, but couldn't seem to relinquish her hold. "How is he?"

Dr. Scott sat down beside her, taking her hand in his like they were old friends. She should've resented the gesture and the intrusion into her personal space, especially since everyone else around her was making her nervous, but it just felt soothing.

"Your father had a massive coronary event, miss. I did CPR and attempted resuscitation for forty minutes, but I'm afraid I couldn't save him."

North dissolved in tears as the shock spread through her, and she didn't resist when the doctor gathered her into his arms to hug her and pat her back as he murmured comforting sounds. She wanted to pull away, to insist he take it back, but in her heart, she knew he was telling her the truth.

Her father had known he was dying, and he'd even told her that. He'd wanted her to leave him there at the cabin, and her to stay where it was safe, so she couldn't deny the doctor was telling her the truth. "I'd like to see him."

Dr. Scott immediately pulled away, standing up before her as he held out a hand to assist her to her feet. Only then did North realize she still clutched the magazine, and she managed to drop it to take his hand.

Even in her grief, she didn't miss the way Liz stared at her as she walked past the sign-in desk, but soon forgot all about that as Dr. Scott led her through a pair of swinging doors and down a hallway that stank of antiseptic. They didn't go far before he led her into another room, and though she'd requested to see her father's body, now that the moment was near, she wasn't certain she could do it. Her feet faltered, and she just stood there for a moment, clinging to Dr. Scott's hand as she tried to cross the remaining few feet between her and the bed where her father lay. "You're sure he's dead?"

His tone was still soothing. "I'm positive. Do you see that machine right there with the straight line going across it?" At her nod, he said, "It measures his heart rate, and it's been flat for at least the last twenty minutes. I got it to respond a little bit on the first few attempts at resuscitation, but there was just too much damage."

"Did he suffer?"

Dr. Scott hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I'm certain he was in a fair amount of pain, but that part's over now. Do you want to see him? You don't have to if you don't want to."

With a deep breath, North managed to take another step forward, which seemed to have cracked her paralysis. She was finally able to cross the room to his bedside while the doctor followed in her wake. He took up a position right behind her, one of his hands on her shoulder in a bracing fashion as she leaned forward to get a better glimpse at her father's face.

He was ashen and waxy, and when she touched him, she knew immediately he was dead. She wouldn't have had to be told to realize that. A jolt went through her as she started sobbing again, but this time clutched the lapels of her father's shirt instead of turning to Dr. Scott. "Oh, Daddy, what am I going to do without you?"

There was no reply, but she hadn't expected one. All she found with her face buried against her father's shirt with the cold comfort of death, and that was no comfort at all.

With another sob, she wrenched away from him and turned around, once again snuggling against Dr. Scott, who seemed unbothered by the storm of tears. He simply held her while she wept and made no attempt to hurry her along in the process.

When the tears finally stopped that time, she was certain they were gone, at least for a long time. She didn't see how she could have any more tears left in her, though there were sure to be additional bouts of crying in the coming days as she buried her father and tried to figure out what to do with her life.

She didn't even know if what he'd told her was true, and if she would be safer in the cabin, or if she could leave that place and try to make a new kind of life for herself. It was something she'd never imagined before, and she was afraid to even contemplate the possibility for a moment.

"Do you have friends or family you can stay with nearby, miss...?"

"Campbell," she said absently. "North Campbell. No, I don't have anyone except my father."

He frowned. "That doesn't seem likely. A pretty woman like you must have a boyfriend?"

She shook her head, frowning at him. Was he trying to pick her up? It was the most inappropriate time ever, and she opened her mouth to tell him that, but he started speaking again before she could do so.

"There must be friends or family? Surely, it wasn't just the two of you?"

North ran a hand through her wavy brown hair, shoving it off her face. "Can I ask you something weird, Dr. Scott?"

"Elias, but feel free to call me Eli." His crooked grin was charming enough to send heat spiraling through her.

She ignored that reaction. "Did civilization end twenty years ago? Was there a big war that killed a lot of people, and everything descended into chaos?"

He seemed perplexed by the question. "Not that I know of, and I'm pretty sure that's the kind of thing I wouldn't have missed. For one thing, I would've been thirteen then, and it would've seriously bummed me out if I hadn't had girls around to salivate over." His brow wrinkled when he frowned. "Why?"

North hugged herself, rubbing her arms as a chill swept over her. "That's what my father told me. He said it happened when I was just a baby, and we had to flee the cities to stay alive. He said that's when my mother died, and that it wasn't safe to come back. We had to stay in the cabin and avoid evil people."

The doctor look genuinely shocked now. "You mean you've spent the last twenty years living in a cabin with just your father?" At her nod, he said a smothered curse word. "I'm not sure what your father's agenda was, but I'm afraid he lied to you, North. That never happened, and while the cities can be dangerous, and I sometimes wonder if there's any civilization left in 'civilized' people, there was no great cataclysm that killed billions and forced people into hiding."

North swayed, reaching out to grasp the rail on the bed for support as her head spun. "Why would he lie to me like that? What did he have to gain by keeping me away from the world? I just don't understand."

The doctor put an arm around her back, his hand at her waist. "I don't understand it either, North, but I'd like to help you. I think you're a special person, and you're clearly lost at the moment. My first priority is to find somewhere for you to stay—"

Before Eli could finish his sentence, the door to the room burst open, and it was chaos. The only one North recognized pouring into the room was Liz, followed by two people wearing uniforms she recognized as belonging to police officers, but had only ever seen in the books her father had used to educate her. There were two other men behind them wearing dark suits, and bringing up the rear was a man and a woman who appeared to be in their mid-forties.

There was gray throughout their hair, and they looked familiar, though she couldn't say why. It took her a moment to realize they both had the same eye color as her. The woman had the same purple-blue color as North's left eye, while the man had the exact same shade of green as her right eye.

The world was quickly revolving now, and she clung to Dr. Scott even as others tried to pull her away. The older couple pushed past the men in suits and the uniformed officers, and the woman stopped a few feet from North. Her mouth was trembling, and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. "Oh, my god, it is you."

"We found her," said the man at her side with a cry of joy. The couple hugged each other before turning to her, and North took a step back, pressing against the hospital bed where her dead father still lay as they pressed in on her, clearly trying to hug her.

"I never thought we'd see you again," said the woman.

"Finally, we found our baby girl." The man reached out for her with a trembling hand, brushing against her cheek.

North instinctively cowered away, feeling the crush of claustrophobia and the inability to breathe overwhelm her.

"Who are you people? What are you doing to her?" Dr. Scott's voice seemed to come from far away.

"She's our daughter, and kindly step aside," said the man.

The words were too much for North to process, and she stopped trying to hang on to reality. Instead, she surrendered to the fuzzy gray warmth that crept over her, needing its security more than anything else at the moment.

## 3

# Revelations

When North woke up, Eli stood over her. No, he was crouched down beside her, she realized. She was lying on the floor, and she couldn't remember why for a moment. "What...?" She trailed off as it all came back, and she closed her eyes for another moment, summoning the courage to open them again, but not finding it until Eli brushed his hand down her cheek.

"It looks like you have some things to deal with, North. You need to wake up now and face them." He leaned over her and helped her to her feet. As he was standing beside her, she felt him slide something into her pocket, and he whispered in her ear, "Call me if you need me."

"Is she all right, Doctor?" asked the same voice from before—the woman claiming to be her mother.

"I believe so. It was just a shock."

"In that case, would you leave us please?" It was clearly a demand and not a question that came from the man claiming to be her father.

"Of course. If she starts to pass out again, please make sure you catch her and call for help immediately."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," added a voice North didn't recognize. She turned her head to identify the speaker and found it to be the shorter, chubbier man in the suit standing next to the tall and skinny one, who was clearly a few years older. "Who are these people?" Her voice sounded raspy as she uttered the question, and she wasn't even certain who she was asking.

"They're the detectives in charge of your case, and they brought along a couple of uniformed officers in case Campbell survived." The man who said he was her father gave her the explanation as he cast a vicious glare at her father's body, where it lay on the bed.

"I can't do this."

"Of course you can't. This is clearly the wrong place." With kindness in her eyes, the older woman put a hand on her arm to draw her forward. "There has to be a better place for this discussion."

"What are we doing?" She still felt like she was floating along, allowing the river to guide her. She was completely overwhelmed and close to shutting down emotionally as she walked out with the couple and the other four men in a daze.

"How about the cafeteria? This young lady could use some coffee to perk her up," said the tall, thin man in the suit. One of the detectives, North reminded herself.

"We should just take her home," said the man beside her, the one who seemed to think he was her father despite the fact that her dad had died that evening.

"You can't do that until we've had a chance to interview her, Mr. Allis."

Now she had a name to put with the couple, or at least a last name. "I really need to get home." The cabin was suddenly all she wanted, its safety and security, and the ability to lock herself away while she mourned her father's passing and tried to make sense of her new reality.

"It's settled then," said Mr. Allis. "You can interview her tomorrow, Detectives."

"She'll be coming home with us," said Mrs. Allis.

North pulled away from the hand on her arm. "No, I won't. I don't know you people."

The detectives shared a look, and the tall, thin one came closer to her. "I know this is a lot to take in, but we have some things to explain to you, and some questions to ask. Do you feel up to cooperating with us this evening?"

"Will I get some answers to my own questions?" At his nod, she also nodded. "I guess so then." She made a point of evading Mrs. Allis's hold when she tried to reach for her again, but she felt mean for doing so when she saw the older woman's hurt expression.

She followed them to the cafeteria, noticing somewhere along the way they lost the two patrolmen in their uniforms. They must not have been deemed necessary.

They entered the cafeteria, and it was nearly empty, except for two people at another table on the other side of the room. North followed the detective when he suggested she sit with him, and she didn't refuse the coffee and juice that the other detective offered her a moment later. She needed something to keep her focused and present. After gulping several sips of the juice, she turned slightly away from the Allises to focus on the detectives. "What's going on here?"

"My name is Marv Korman, and this is my partner, Ed Schuessler."

"Call me Ed," said the shorter detective.

She nodded, but didn't acknowledge his words otherwise. "Please tell me what's happening here."

"Your case was one of the first Ed and I ever worked together as partners. That was almost twenty-one years ago."

"What case?" A feeling of dread crept through her as she asked the question, half-convinced for a moment that she didn't want the answer.

"You were kidnapped out of the hospital by your doctor just days after your birth," said Ed.

"We trusted that horrible man, and he stole you from us," wailed Mrs. Allis.

"Hush now, Carol. You don't want to frighten her."

Carol, formerly Mrs. Allis to her, nodded at the man beside her. "You're right, Jim."

Jim and Carol Allis, who claimed to be her parents. It was preposterous, and she opened her mouth to deny it, but couldn't find words. The detectives looked so earnest, and her parents—no, they weren't her parents—appeared so hopeful that she was having a tough time denying the explanation.

It painted another piece of the picture that provided an all-too-credible reason for why Sam Campbell—her father—would have lied to her about the fall of civilization and the need to stay hidden in their cabin. He wouldn't have wanted her to run across the wrong person, who might recognize her and rip apart his carefully woven deception. "How did you find me?"

"Your folks are persistent," said Marv. "They put up new missing person flyers for you everywhere they can think of just about every week. That includes the hospital, and one of the registrars recognized you."

North remembered Liz flipping through stacks of papers pinned to the corkboard and now knew what the other woman had been searching for—the flier showing her face that would confirm to Liz that she was a missing person. "This just can't be true. My father wasn't the kind of man who would kidnap a helpless infant and steal her from her parents."

"I'm certain your father didn't show you every aspect of his personality," said Ed in a gentle voice. "He would've wanted to keep you docile, so he would have given you the picture you expected."

North wasn't certain about much, but she knew the detective was wrong on that count. Her father might've lied to her, and he might have even stolen her from these people, though she didn't want to contemplate that being true, but he hadn't pretended to be someone he wasn't, and he hadn't made her believe he was a different man, a man she could love and admire, when he wasn't really like that. "You're wrong."

Ed and Marv shared a look before Ed shrugged.

Marv said, "We'll come back to his motivation later than. What can you tell us about where he's kept you for the last twenty years?"

"We had a little cabin on a big property. He said it wasn't safe to go back to the cities, because there was a big war, and civilization collapsed. I thought he was telling me the truth, especially since all the educational materials and books he used to teach me were all created before the year I was born."

"What a horrible man," said Carol Allis in a screech.

"Did he hurt you?" Jim Allis looked like he would've pounded her father if he hadn't already been dead.

North frowned at him. "Of course not. Dad loved me."

"He's not your father," roared Jim. "I am, and he stole you from me."

She recoiled at his display of emotion, pulling away from him as far she could and pressing her back into the booth supporting her. Tears swam in her eyes, and she blinked them back.

"Jim, you're being too harsh with her. It's certainly not our baby's fault."

After a moment, he exhaled, and his anger had clearly dissipated—or at least had been buried behind a more amicable wall. "To hear you refer to him as your father kills me."

North hung her head. "I'm sorry." She was genuinely sorry for causing them any suffering, but she couldn't help that in her heart, Sam still felt like her father. She didn't even know the man who wanted the title.

"What exactly did Dr. Campbell do with you?" asked Ed.

She frowned at him. "He taught me how to read and do math and all the things I guess you would expect. He taught me how to survive, I learned some basic first aid, and we spent one whole year learning all about foraging food from the wild."

Marv cleared his throat. "I don't think that's exactly what Ed meant, Nara."

She blinked. "Who's Nara?"

"That's your name," said Carol softly. "Nara Allis."

North absorbed it, but the word had no meaning. The name didn't feel like it should be part of her. It was alien and as unwelcome as everything else she'd learned that night. "I prefer North," she told Marv, studiously avoiding looking at the Allises as she said the words.

"Of course, North. I think Ed is trying to figure out what Sam did to you."

North frowned. "I guess he stole me from my birthparents?" It was more of a question than a statement, because she still wasn't certain about anything.

"We're trying to figure out why," said Ed gently. "Did he have you making movies, or perhaps he hired you out to be friendly with other pedophiles?"

Marv elbowed him in the shoulder at the same time North gasped. Her head spun, and anger spiraled through her. "You're disgusting. My father would never do anything like that. He loved me and protected me. I don't know what's going on here, but Sam Campbell is not the man you're painting him to be."

"He's a kidnapper, and they usually have one reason for stealing a child," said Ed in a scornful tone.

"There can be multiple reasons," said Marv in a more soothing tone. "We're just trying to get to the bottom of it all."

North shook her head and pushed away from the table. "I have to get out of here. I can't do this anymore."

"You can't go out there alone," said Carol. "We lost you for so long, and we can't risk losing you again."

North shook her head, backing away slowly. "I don't know you. I don't know either of you."

"That's what we're trying to change," said Jim gruffly. "Why don't you come stay with us for a few days, just to see how our life is? We'd appreciate a chance to get to know you."

"Oh, yes, please." Carol was clutching her hands before her in a hopeful fashion. "Please come home with us, even for just a few days. We really want to know more about you, Nara."

North flinched at the name, but didn't refute it at the moment. She wanted to refuse, because every instinct inside her was telling her not to go, but she was also certain her thinking processes were clouded with grief and confusion.

The Allises wanted to know their daughter, and they believed she was it. She didn't see how she could really be theirs, but she was having a hard time disbelieving it as well. She couldn't seem to summon the words to refuse their invitation, especially with the naked hope in their eyes.

"I... All right, but just for tonight. I don't feel like driving all the way home."

"Yeah, sure, just for one night, if that's what you want," said Jim.

Carol was crestfallen. "Only a night?"

"It's been twenty years," said Ed in a bracing fashion as he placed a hand lightly on Carol's arm for a moment and patted. "It will take time to build a relationship with her."

With a long sigh, Carol nodded. "We'd be thrilled to have you even for just the night, but I hope you know you can stay forever, baby girl."

The endearment made her shudder, but she couldn't voice a protest. Carol looked so happy, she didn't have it in her to rob the other woman of that joy. She was still more than half-convinced that this was some kind of mistake, and that she just looked like Nara Allis, but tomorrow would be soon enough to figure it out.

As they left the cafeteria and exited the hospital, she saw Dr. Scott getting into a beige Volvo. He waved a hand in her direction, and she did the same, but didn't cross to say goodbye. For one thing, she wasn't certain that she had any right to do so and couldn't explain the compulsion urging her to anyway.

For another, she doubted the detectives or the Allises would allow her to break rank to approach him at the moment. They were guarding her like she was spun glass, and she realized that analogy wasn't too far from the truth. All it would take was one more crack to shatter her into a thousand pieces.

Eli watched her go with the people who'd laid claim to her. Her smell still lingered in his nostrils, and it took every ounce of control he had to watch her go. His wolf insisted she was his, and he had to claim and protect her, but the rational side of him understood the need for patience and a watch-and-see approach.

He picked up his cell phone and dialed a number he'd memorized years ago. The old, crackled voice on the other end of the line made hairs stand up on his arms, just like they did every time Caius spoke. Even not in his presence, he could feel his aura of power in the simple, "Hello," that came through his phone.

He cleared his throat. "I'm at the hospital, and we had a patient—well, the daughter of a patient—come in tonight. I could feel her power. And her scent..." He trailed off as his voice took on an animalistic tone for a moment. He had to soothe the savageness before he could continue. "I think she's what we've been searching for, sir."

## 4

# Not Nara

They had a lovely home on a block of homes that looked almost the same. It was definitely the suburbs, if she understood the definition of the word correctly. She followed them into the kitchen when they entered from the garage, and it was sparkling clean. It looked like a house, but felt nothing like her home. "Did you ever bring me home at all?"

"No, Campbell stole you before we could. You were due to be discharged the next day." Jim said the words angrily.

North tried to ignore his outburst, reminding herself he was still processing everything too. And she'd inadvertently given him hope by referring to herself as their missing child, which had been a mistake.

"Let me show you to a guestroom," said Carol.

North nodded, anxious to have some time alone to sort out things and perhaps find some semblance of order again. She followed Jim and Carol up the stairs, admiring the house as she went. Every room she saw was meticulously decorated and cleaned to a spotless state, but felt cold and unwelcoming.

Carol hesitated for a moment before stopping outside a door that North assumed was the guestroom. Jim shook his head, but Carol seemed to be pointedly ignoring him as she opened the door. "You have to see this."

North followed her hesitantly inside the room, coming to a standstill when she realized they'd entered a nursery. It was full of pinks, creams, and touches of silver here and there. The theme appeared to be circus animals, and there was a gigantic mural on the wall, though it was a strange one. There was a carousel, but the creatures featured were different from the usual horses and unicorns.

There were dragons, wolves, a beautiful ice sculpture-looking creature, and even a glimpse of something long, sleek, and black. Flames appeared to emanate from its eyes. She shivered at the sight, wondering what they had been thinking when they had chosen such creatures to decorate their carousel. It would've been enough to give the tiny infant destined to sleep there nightmares.

"This was your room," said Carol.

"We were so excited. Everything was set for you to come home."

Carol picked up her husband's narrative. "When we realized you were taken, we couldn't bring ourselves to dismantle this room. At first, we were certain we'd get you back, but as the months and then years passed, it was all we had of you."

North nodded, feeling choked up. However, it wasn't from the obvious emotional sentiment that the Allises attributed to the room. To her, it was more like a tomb than a shrine, though she couldn't explain why the whole thing felt ominous to her. It was a room she wanted to escape from as quickly as possible, and not just because the eyes of the carousel creatures seemed to be following her wherever she moved. "I think I'd like to rest now."

"Of course," said Carol with only a tiny bit of visible disappointment. "You can have the guestroom across the hall. This room isn't suitable for you to sleep in, and maybe it would be cathartic now to redo it. I'll have you pick your favorites, though I hope you won't mind if I help you decorate. It's something we can do together."

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Carol. We probably won't have her that long."

Carol's expression altered for a moment, going unreadable, and then it was resigned. "You're right as always, dear." She flashed a bright smile at North, though it wasn't very convincing. "Let's get you settled in for the night, dear."

North breathed a sigh of relief when they crossed the threshold from the nursery, and then prepared herself for something equally horrifying in the guestroom. Instead, it was a straightforward design, with white linens and blond furniture. There was an _en suite_ bathroom, so she wouldn't even have to leave the suite for the rest of the night.

Carol and Jim lingered by the doorway for a moment, looking expectant. "Can we get you anything else?" Carol seemed poised to dart out of the room to fulfill any request, no matter how exorbitant.

"You must be hungry, Nara," said Jim.

Once again, North flinched at the name, but didn't call him on it. She wasn't up for another argument or round of emotional revelations that evening. "No, I'm fine. I couldn't eat right now. I'm too overwrought, and with my father...Sam's death, I have a lot to figure out."

Her heart clenched when she used Sam's name instead of calling him her father, but she was trying to be sensitive to Jim's emotions too. She was in no state to cater to everyone else at the moment though, so it was a relief when they finally left her with a brief good night a few minutes later.

North stood in the room for a moment and couldn't explain why, but she crossed the room to lock the door behind them. It was a sensible precaution, since she didn't know the Allises, and she still had no real proof she was their daughter.

Once the door was locked, she could relax more, and she did so as she went into the bathroom. A long, hot shower didn't help clear her thoughts, but it left her feeling physically refreshed.

Carol Allis must be the perfect hostess, because she had thought of everything. There was even a drawer of pajamas with tags still attached, and she borrowed a pair. Good manners suggested she should ask permission first, but she didn't want to face them again that night. There were still too many things to sort through, and she had to try to figure out what was truth and what was a lie.

It pained her to have to go through such an ordeal on the same night her father had died, especially since he seemed to be at the heart of the deception. She genuinely believed he was the man he had portrayed himself to be, but there was another element to him, and she couldn't fathom it. What kind of man could steal someone else's child from the hospital just days after birth? Sam had raised her as his own, and he'd been a fiercely devoted and loving father, but how could she reconcile what she knew of him with what she was learning? How could he be the same person?

She clung to the hope that maybe she wasn't Nara Allis. Just because the pieces fit neatly didn't mean she was part of their puzzle. Tomorrow, she would have to insist on seeing proof, and then she could figure out what to do from there.

North woke to the turning of a key in the lock, and it sent a dart of dread through her. She had thought this was a private sanctuary, but it was obvious the Allises weren't going to abide by such things as locked doors to keep them out. She wanted to cut them some slack, and perhaps she'd find a way to do so if she learned for certain she was their daughter, but it was an intrusion she didn't appreciate.

Carol appeared completely oblivious as she bustled inside bearing a tray. "Good morning, dear. I'd love to let you sleep in, but I managed to get us an appointment with Dr. Douglas. He's fitting us in."

North frowned at the tray before her as Carol laid it across her lap, though she could find no fault with the croissant, selection of jams, and what appeared to be a small pot of either tea or espresso. "Who's Dr. Douglas?"

"He's a family friend, and he'll be able to run tests to verify that you're our daughter. I already know you are in my heart, but I suppose we must be sure with science, mustn't we?" As she spoke, she casually pushed North's hair back from her face. "You look so much like my mother, Nara. I've often wondered who you would favor. Your eyes are just lovely."

"They're weird," said North a bit sourly. "It's weird to have two different-colored eyes."

"It's distinctive, and just beautiful."

"That sounds like something a mother would say." North realized she'd made a mistake as soon as she said it, because it suggested Carol was her mother. She wasn't ready to even entertain the possibility yet. "What time is the appointment?"

"We have an hour to get there, Nara."

"North," she said firmly as she reached for the croissant to cut it with a knife. She looked up to meet Carol's gaze. "I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I'm not Nara. And if I am, it's not a name I'm familiar with, and it doesn't feel like me. Please call me North."

Carol looked angry for a moment, and then she just looked sad. Finally, she sighed and nodded tightly. "Very well, North." It sounded like the word was wrung from her under torture. "I'll leave you to finish your breakfast and get dressed. I washed your clothes this morning earlier, so they're waiting for you in the chair." She nodded in the direction where she had left them and headed to the door.

North felt bad for having hurt her, so she called out, "Thank you for breakfast, Carol."

Carol paused, straightened her shoulders, and then turned to her with a smile. "Of course, dear. I have a great many years for which to make up, don't I?"

North didn't respond other than with a small smile as she bit into the croissant, using the need to chew to hide from the need to answer.

After finishing breakfast, she quickly prepared for the day, sliding on her own clothes, which felt comfortable and secure—though she was nonplussed to realize Carol had slipped into her room sometime while she slept in order to retrieve the clothes for washing, had returned, and then locked the door behind her again. It seemed unnecessary, and she wondered why Carol had bothered to lock it once more.

Perhaps she was just trying to make North feel at ease and had recognized the locked door did just that. Either way, it didn't sit well with her that the other woman had felt free to slip into the room she was using, even if it was to perform a kindness like wash her clothes or bring her breakfast.

## 5

# Dr. Strange

It was a relief to leave their large suburban home in the passenger side of Carol's Saab. Jim was off to his job, and North realized she had forgotten to ask what he did. It was probably rude, but she supposed she could cut herself a little slack for the oversight in manners.

She made a conscious decision to look out her window to examine the city around them rather than look at her mother. Her mother. She tried the words in her mind, but they just didn't feel right. She hoped the doctor they were going to see that day would have answers for them soon.

She didn't know which was worse at that point—that they were her parents, or they weren't. If they were, in meant everything she had known about her father was a lie, but if they weren't, what was she going to do with her life? She couldn't just go back to the cabin and pretend she hadn't learned that her father had lied to her about the collapse of civilization.

It took about forty minutes to leave Ann Arbor and reach downtown Detroit. There were signs of decay and dilapidation wherever she looked, but there were also signs of growth and rebuilding. She supposed that was why the doctor they were about to see had chosen to locate his practice in such a sketchy area.

When they pulled up to a side road, Carol took it, following the curve around until they reached a fenced area with a guardhouse. A man in a white uniform came out to greet them, and North's gaze moved to the gun at his side. They must take security seriously at the complex, which was probably necessary.

"Name?"

"Carol and Nara Allis. We have a nine-thirty appointment with Dr. Pytor Douglas."

The security guard must've quickly found them, because he nodded. He didn't speak again as he walked back to the guardhouse. A moment later, the wickedly secure gate rumbled open, and Carol drove through.

It was as though someone had drawn a clear line of demarcation around the office complex, clearly separating it from the destruction and urban decay around it. There wasn't a hint of blemish on the brick walls, and the sidewalks appeared pristine, with nary a crack that she could see when she climbed out of the car a moment later.

It looked more like the corporate headquarters for an international conglomerate than it did a doctor's office, or even a medical complex. Of course, what did she know? Her knowledge came from a collection of books that were twenty-plus years old, so maybe this was the current style for affluent doctors pursuing gentrification.

She followed Carol into the entrance of the clinic, and a shiver went down her spine when the automatic doors closed behind her. For a moment, she had the sensation she was locked in, and she had to grit her teeth to ignore the feeling urging her to turn around and run out. Instead, she forced her feet to move forward as she followed Carol, who clearly knew where they were going.

They bypassed the offices on the first floor, but took the elevator to the top floor, which was ten stories high. It was a bit disorienting to look out the open glass window of the elevator and see the height as they ascended. She experienced a moment of vertigo when she exited the elevator and paused near the safety rail to look down.

"What's the matter?" asked Carol, sounding impatient.

North shook her head, shrugging off the sensation of disorientation. "I'm sorry. I've never been up so high. I mean, I've been up in higher elevations in the mountains, but never in a building like this."

Carol's face was a mask of anger. "When I think of what that man has deprived you of, I just want to..." She trailed off with a shake of her head. "Never mind all that. Let's go see Dr. Douglas and have him confirm you're our girl."

North managed a wan smile at the suggestion, unable to summon any further enthusiasm for the idea. It was better to know, but at least she didn't have to make any decisions or figure out her next step until she discovered for certain if her father had kidnapped her from her birth parents.

Her impression of it being a business office was reinforced when they entered, finding the few people visible in the lobby milling around wearing suits rather than scrubs. They all looked perfectly coiffed and professional, leading North to lean closer to Carol and whisper, "What kind of doctor is this?"

"Dr. Douglas is a highly-gifted geneticist, Nar—North." Carol pasted on a smile as though to smooth over the lapse on her name. "I'm sure you'll just adore him."

North shrugged, remaining quiet as Carol checked them in and accepted a stack of paperwork. When the woman who might be her mother passed her one of the clipboards filled with paperwork for her to complete, North was happy to have something to focus besides Carol or the forthcoming appointment.

She sat staring at it for a moment without seeing as she contemplated how her parents had secured an appointment with the geneticist so quickly. They must be close friends, because she doubted they could have gotten in otherwise.

She lifted the pen to her mouth and chewed on the lid without thought as she stared at the blur of words in front of her, finding it impossible to start writing. She was stuck on her name, which was crazy. She had been North Campbell for twenty-one years, and she would continue to be North Campbell, even if she found out that wasn't her birth name. Regardless of what Sam had done, or why he'd done it, she was comfortable with that name, while she couldn't imagine ever wearing Nara Allis and feeling easy with it.

"Is there a problem, dear?"

She shook her head at Carol's question and finally broke the paralysis that had kept her from filling out the paperwork. The first page was fairly smooth, and she had most of the information. There was a spot for insurance, and she wasn't entirely certain what that was. She understood the basic concept of insurance, but not how it applied to medical care. She leaned over to Carol. "What do I put here?"

"Don't worry about that. I'm sure you don't have insurance, but we're taking care of this."

With a nod, North continued, filling out the rest of the front side before flipping to the back, which wanted an accounting of her medical history. "How detailed should I be?"

"Have you had any surgeries, or any emotional problems, like an eating disorder or addiction?"

North's eyes widened. "No, I haven't had anything major." She wrinkled her brow. "For that matter, I don't think I've had anything minor either. I must have an amazing immune system, because I never get sick."

Carol's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Perhaps you should put that down. It might be of interest to the doctor."

North followed the suggestion, writing a quick sentence explaining her medical history. It was very brief, since there wasn't anything to tell besides a couple of childhood injuries.

The next section was strange. She examined the questions before she started answering, growing more and more perplexed. "What is this? Why are they asking if I've had visions?"

Carol gave an uncomfortable laugh. "I think they mean hallucinations, dear. They're probably trying to screen you for mental disorders, like schizophrenia."

North had a basic understanding of mental illness, having covered it in some of the medical books her father had assigned her to study as part of her curriculum, and she was certain she didn't qualify for the diagnosis. She tried to answer the questions as best she could, even though they were bizarre and personal. Perhaps that was the standard set of questions, and she wouldn't know since she'd never been to a doctor's office before. Deciding she was overthinking it, she answered as honestly as she could.

She had just finished the last page when the receptionist called Carol's name. When the other woman stood up, gathering her coat and purse, North did the same. She followed her back after turning in the clipboard to the receptionist, who directed them through the next door.

A silver-blonde woman with a pale complexion that blended almost seamlessly with her white suit met them just around the corner. "Hello, Carol. It's lovely to see you again."

"Hello, Kira. This is my daughter, _North_." She emphasized it in a way that suggested she was just humoring North.

North hid a grimace as she extended her hand to shake Kira's when the other woman offered it.

"It's lovely to see you. Jim and Carol have looked tirelessly for you."

"I might not be their daughter." She was compelled to remind all three of them of that fact.

Kira nodded just once, and not a strand of hair fell out of her perfectly arranged coif. "Follow me, please. Pytor managed to work you in this morning, and he'd like to start in his office reviewing the paperwork before we move on to testing."

The word testing made North's stomach clench with anxiety. "What sort of tests?"

"Oh, the usual."

Kira's answer did nothing to enlighten her. "What do you do here, Kira?"

"I'm Pytor's assistant, and also a geneticist."

North had nothing else to say, and she followed Carol and Kira quietly into an office that was larger than the cabin she'd shared with her father. They had to walk a ridiculous number of steps to reach the middle, where the desk dominating the center of the room stood.

There was a handsome dark-haired man seated behind it, though he was probably old enough to be her father. He looked to be in his late thirties, but surely had to be mid-forties or older to be a highly-respected geneticist. He pushed back from his chair and came around to meet them, holding out his hand first to shake Carol's, and then to take North's.

She was expecting a handshake, but he grasped both of her hands between his and just stared at her for a long moment. It was unnerving, and his hands felt clammy. At first, she was discreet as she tried to pull away, but when he continued to hold her, his gaze roaming over her face, she finally tugged her hands away forcefully, uncaring if it was rude.

He made no mention of it and acted as though it hadn't happened as he gave her a friendly smile. "It's nice to meet you, Nara."

"She prefers North," said Carol with only the faintest bite in her tone.

If he was surprised, it didn't show in his tanned face. "Let's just go over this paperwork, shall we, North?"

She shrugged as she followed Carol the last few feet to the chairs placed in front of the desk, taking a seat on the inside as Carol maneuvered herself to the outside. It was as though the older woman thought she might make a break for it, and North was seriously considering the idea.

Pytor had the clipboard in front of him, and it must've been ferried back to him by someone else while Kira greeted them. He read quietly for a moment, though occasionally made a noise that sounded like a purr of satisfaction. When he lifted his head, his coal-black eyes focused on her with a new kind of intensity. "Tell me about your childhood."

She frowned. "I really don't see the need. We're just here for a DNA test, aren't we?"

"Please indulge my curiosity."

North felt churlish refusing, though she really didn't see the point, and she wasn't anxious to open up about growing up with Sam. Perhaps it was strange to feel protective of the man who might have kidnapped her, but she didn't want them to know anything about him. Surely that was all part of her coping process. "It was fairly basic. It was just Dad and me, but I had a happy childhood."

"How are you raised? What kind of education did he give you?"

That question seemed completely unrelated to determining her paternity, but she couldn't think of a reason not to answer. "Mostly, it was textbooks, though there were a number of fiction books and lively discussions. I suppose you could classify it as a classical education, and there was an emphasis on being a decent person, so my generation wouldn't make the same mistakes as the ones that had caused the collapse of society."

His brow furrowed. "Excuse me?"

Carol shook her head. "That's how he explained keeping her locked away from the world. He told her there was no civilization to turn to, and the humanity had devolved to a bunch of savages."

Dr. Douglas surprised her with a dark chuckle. "Perhaps he wasn't entirely wrong about that assessment." Then his expression changed, becoming more impersonal again. "And you were never ill?"

North really concentrated for a moment, trying to recall a time when she might've had the sniffles, the flu, or even something as benign as childhood chickenpox. Coming up with a blank, she shook her head. "I really don't remember ever being sick."

"But you were injured occasionally?"

She nodded, unconsciously pushing back the sleeve of her sweater and holding out her arm to the doctor, so he could see the small silver scar that slashed the underside of her forearm. "I fell on ice one winter while learning how to skate, and it was jagged enough to cut me deeply. That's the only scar I have, though I did cut my finger with a knife once when I was learning how to cook, but it healed quickly."

He made an ambiguous sound. "I imagine it would have."

After staring at the paperwork for another moment, he looked up, pinning her with his dark gaze. "And you've never had visions of any kind?"

She shook her head. "I don't have schizophrenia. I'm sure of that."

He shared a look with Carol for a moment before nodding. "Excellent." Except he didn't sound too happy about that. "What about any other unusual talents? Are you stronger than average?"

North started to say no, but then recalled the moment when she had lifted her father out of the house yesterday. "I guess there was one time, but it had to be the adrenaline surge. When my father was so sick yesterday, I managed to get him out of the house and into the truck by myself, and he outweighs me by at least a hundred pounds."

"Yes, adrenaline," he said in an offhand way. "How about any other talents? Do you move quickly, or are you extremely flexible?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, and I really don't see what this has to do with anything."

"I'll be comparing your medical history to your family's history later in the event the DNA test shows that you are the Allises' daughter."

"Oh. Well, I still don't know about any other special talents."

He gave her a smile. "Perhaps you just haven't discovered them yet, North."

There was a strange tone to his voice, and it sent a shiver down her spine just like she'd gotten when she stepped into the building.

A moment later, he spoke again, and there was no trace of it. "Right. I'll send in Kira to move you to an exam room, and she can collect samples. After that, we'll do a full body scan, and then we'll have an answer within the hour."

"That soon?"

He nodded at North's comment. "You're a special case, so we're going to rush things. And fortunately, Carol is right here to provide a DNA sample as well. As long as you match her, you must be their daughter."

North was surprised to find out they would know so quickly, but also relieved. She stood up from the chair and followed Carol and Kira from the room a moment later when the brunette came to retrieve them.

## 6

# Testing

They went into another room farther down the hall, and this one looked more like she would've expected a doctor's office to appear. There was an exam table covered with some kind of waterproof fabric, a large light overhead, and myriad medical supplies stacked neatly in a shelf.

She'd never had a blood test before, but she was pretty sure that was what was about to happen as she watched Kira prepare a needle and syringe. She was woozy, so she decided to lie back on the bed instead of sitting up for the blood draw.

"Just a little poke now." A millisecond later, the needle pierced her arm, and while it was uncomfortable, it wasn't as bad as she had psyched herself up to expect.

After another moment, Kira pulled out the needle and quickly bandaged the spot. "There we go. Now open your mouth, North."

North complied, allowing Kira to scrape the side of her cheek with a long swab. The other woman stored it in a clear tube before turning to Carol to repeat the process. "Let me rush these to the lab, and then I'll get you over for a scan."

When the other woman had left the room, she turned to Carol. "Is the body scan necessary? Won't the saliva and blood tell us everything we need to know?"

"We want to make sure you're in top health, dear." Carol's face darkened. "I'm certain they'll be looking for healed broken bones and that sort of thing."

North hugged herself, trying to control the surge of anger filling her. "I already told you my father never hurt me. If that's what you're looking for, you're wasting your time."

"We need to do the scan to be sure."

She opened her mouth to continue protesting, but decided against it. If they needed proof that Sam had never hurt her, then that was the best way to provide it. Maybe at least then they would stop painting her as an abuse victim. She doubted the Allises would ever have a good opinion of her father if he had really taken her from them, but it was important to her that they know he had been kind and loving, and it wasn't just for their peace of mind. She was driven to protect his memory too.

Kira returned less than five minutes later, and this time Carol went a different direction when they exited the exam room, appearing to be heading back toward Dr. Douglas's office. She followed Kira into yet another room, quickly stripping down to the gown the woman had laid out for her when she was alone. She left her clothes folded neatly on the bench before exiting to find Kira waiting for her. The woman held a glass of something glowing faintly blue, and she extended it.

North looked at it doubtfully. "What is that?"

"It's contrast dye."

She eyed it doubtfully, refusing to take it. "What's in it?"

"Dye and sterile water. It's no big deal. Really." With a tinkling laugh that sounded false, Kira brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. "See, I'm just fine, and you will be too. We need to be able to get the best pictures possible."

Still reluctant, North finally took it and swallowed as quickly she could. It was surprisingly tasteless, reinforcing Kira's assertion that it held nothing more than dye and sterile water. She handed back the glass a moment later, and Kira waved her into a smaller room.

Inside, there was a large enclosed machine, with only a bed attached to what looked like a retractable tube. That appeared to be the entrance and exit, and she moved over to it slowly, wanting to withdraw her consent.

Instead, she laid down on the bed, shivering in the cold air. Kira was there a moment later, tucking a warm blanket over her and giving her a kind smile. "Just try to relax, and don't move if you can help it."

The machine started whirring as Kira pressed the button that took her deeper inside it. There were flashing lights above North, and they gave her a headache. She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid them, though she could still detect them through her eyelids. At least with her eyes closed, they were manageable instead of outright painful.

Kira's soothing voice filled the tube. "Try not to think about anything and just let your thoughts wander."

It seemed like a strange suggestion, but maybe it was easier to get the scan done if she was completely relaxed. She was less likely to fidget, right? North found it impossible to totally clear her thoughts. Too much had happened to her in just the last day for that to be feasible.

She started to feel drowsy, and with her eyes already closed, it was difficult to stave off the urge to sleep. It wasn't the most relaxing place ever, but since she hadn't slept well the night before, she wasn't entirely surprised when she woke from a nap a short time later to find she was out of the machine and lying on the bed.

Kira bustled over, seeming to be waiting for her to wake up. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

North bit back a yawn and shook her head. "I guess not."

"If you know the way, you can head back to where you left your clothes and get dressed. You'll be meeting with Pytor again in his office, and your mother's already waiting there. I need to finish processing the results, unless you need an escort?"

North sat up and slid to the floor with her bare feet. "No, I think I remember the way. Thank you." At Kira's nod, she crossed the room again and pushed down on the door handle, so the door swung outward. She was back in the dressing room shortly, and once again clad in her clothes moments later.

She made her way down the hall, but soon realized she must've taken a wrong turn. As her feet slowed, and she looked around her, studying the names on the doors with interest, she realized maybe it hadn't been such an accidental wrong turn. Part of her was deeply curious about what went on in Dr. Douglas's office. There were some trappings of medicine, but she had the unshakable certainty that more than medicine happened there.

Unfortunately, the doors provided no enlightenment. They had innocuous labels, like "Supply Closet." When she reached the end of the hall, she found a different kind of door. She thought it was called an airlock, though she couldn't remember for certain, and had never seen one in person before. She stood before it, looking for some kind of identification, but it was conspicuously absent of any kind of labeling.

A hand fell on her arm, making her scream as she turned in shock. Her heart was racing, and she pressed her palm to her chest as she stared up. A guilty feeling washed over her when she met the disapproving gaze of Dr. Douglas. "I'm sorry. I think I got lost."

For a moment, he looked angry, but then his expression cleared. He sounded lighthearted when he put a hand on her shoulder and started directing her forward. "The old left when you should've gone right, huh? This place is big enough to get lost in four times over, and you wouldn't be the first patient to take a wrong turn. Let's go meet Carol, shall we? I have the test results waiting."

She nodded, disliking the man's hand on her shoulder, though she couldn't explain why. Perhaps it was as simple as he was a stranger, and she wasn't used to being touched by others. Her dad had been a hugger, but that was the extent of her physical interaction with people, so it was no wonder she felt awkward with his touch, which was probably perfectly acceptable by societal standards. She would just have to learn how to fit in and get used to such things.

He led her into his office, and she took a seat beside Carol again. It took the doctor another moment to cross behind his desk and sit down, and he immediately opened the folder in front of him. "Congratulations, Carol. You've finally found your daughter."

Carol burst into tears, though they seemed like happy tears. She reached over and clasped North's hand in a tight hold.

North left hers in the other woman's grip, engaging as much as a limp fish would have as she stared at the doctor in shock. "You're sure?"

He nodded. "Almost one hundred percent certainty that Carol is your mother, which naturally means Jim is your father."

Clinging to straws, she darted an apprehensive look at Carol. "There's not any chance at all that Sam is my father, Carol?"

Carol gasped and froze, looking betrayed. "Of course not. He was only ever my doctor, and nothing more. What a horrible and filthy idea."

"Now, Carol, calm down. This is a lot for North to take in, and you have to be understanding."

Carol looked like she would argue for a moment, and then she sighed. "Yes, you're right, Pytor."

He turned his attention on North. "Your scans were clear."

"I told you he never hurt me. He was my father. Or he acted like my father." She clasped her hands in her lap, pulling free from Carol's grasp in the process. Staring down at them, she realized her belief that she had the same fingers as Sam's mother was another lie he had spun for her benefit. He always told her she had long, elegant fingers like his mother. And he'd attributed her looks to her mother, who'd supposedly died when she was an infant. The threads of her life were quickly unraveling, and she wasn't certain how she would keep everything together.

"I'm going to give you a prescription, Carol. I want you to give North a sedative when you get her home, and then another one later this evening. It looks like she could use some synthetic calm."

North wanted to refuse the idea, but she was incapable of speaking at the moment. She wasn't capable of doing much of anything, and it felt like a stiff breeze would shatter her into a million pieces. Everything circulated rapidly in her head, making it impossible to grab hold of even one tangible idea.

Simultaneously, the truth beat down on her that her entire life had been a lie, and the man she believed was her father had kidnapped her from the Allises when she was a newborn. What kind of monster could do such a thing? It made no sense, and it didn't seem like the kind of thing her father could even think about doing, let alone follow through on. He'd been a good and kind man, but he had also been a kidnapper and a liar. How was she supposed to reconcile that?

## 7

# An Unexpected Visitor

She was still in a daze when they pulled up in front of the Allises' home more than an hour later. Carol—her mother—no, Carol felt better than calling her mother... _She_ had stopped by a pharmacy on the way home to fill the prescription, which she clutched in one hand while coming around to North's side to help her out with the other. The hand on her arm was probably meant to be comforting, but it felt restrictive and almost as tight as a handcuffed as Carol led her to the house.

They were on the porch before she realized there was someone standing in the shadows cast by the big pillars of the sunporch. She gasped and took a step back, suddenly on edge. Conversely, the panic seemed to snap her world back into focus, and she could think again.

"Who's there?" Carol sounded annoyed.

"It's me, Dr. Elias Scott. I met North last night, and I'm the one who cared for her father." As he spoke, he stepped out of the shadow, and he wore an affable grin, but there was a hint of tension in his shoulders.

"Why in the world would you come here?" snapped Carol. "We don't want anything to do with that man, or anything he touched. He stole my daughter from me for twenty-one years."

Eli ignored her mother. "So you are their daughter?" His question was focused solely on North.

She licked her lips and nodded. "Yeah, I guess so. We got the DNA back today."

He arched a brow. "That's pretty fast. In fact, it's almost unheard of. Even a rush case for the police takes about a week, I think."

"Are you questioning the veracity of our test results?" Carol took a step toward him. "We saw a highly respected geneticist, who is also a family friend. He pulled strings to get us an immediate answer."

The doctor held up his hands. "I wasn't trying to offend you. I was simply surprised the speed it occurred, since I hadn't heard of such a thing."

"You are an emergency doctor, not a geneticist. One could hardly expect you to keep up with the latest advances."

North frowned at Carol before looking at the doctor. "Thank you for stopping by, Eli. Did you need something?"

He shook his head. "I simply wanted to check on you. Are you hanging in there?"

"She's fine, and she has all the support she needs." Carol put an arm around her and urged her toward the front door. "You won't need to visit again to check on her. She isn't your patient, Dr. Scott."

North shot him a helpless look, but allowed Carol to lead her to the door. She was still somewhat in shock, but thinking much clearer than she had earlier. She was able to empathize with Carol's position, though flinched at the other woman's rudeness. She had to resent the fact that Eli had tried to save Sam. That had to be why she was so standoffish.

"Of course. Feel free to call me if you'd like to talk about anything though, North."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," said Carol in a cold voice as she half-pushed North into the kitchen. North gave him a smile that collapsed immediately when Carol glared at her, and the door slammed shut a moment later. It blocked her sight of Dr. Scott, but she could hear his feet moving across the porch a few seconds later.

Carol seemed to take a moment to compose herself, and when she spoke again, she sounded more in control. "Well, let's get you medicated and resting."

North shook her head. "I don't think I need a sedative. I'm much calmer than I was."

Carol frowned, and her displeasure was obvious. "Nonsense. Pytor said to give you a pill now and one later, and that's what we must do. You need all the time you can to recover and process everything. Now come along."

North couldn't explain why she didn't protest, except maybe she felt the need to treat the other woman gently. When she reminded herself that Carol and Jim were probably still reeling from the news just as much as she was, it was easier to be more compassionate and understanding. This was a shock for them that had surely turned their lives upside down as well, and they were handling it as gracefully as possible.

They'd been nothing but welcoming, though at times irritating and overbearing, but they had her best interests at heart. She allowed the older woman to take her up the stairs and even slid on a pair of new pajamas from the drawer in the bathroom. When she emerged from the bathroom, Carol held out a white pill and a glass of water. North took both, slipping the pill between her cheek and tongue as she swallowed some of the water.

Carol looked satisfied. "There, that's much better. Why don't you lie down and rest for a while, and I'll be back with your other pill and some dinner later on?"

"Thanks." It was all she could manage to say without sounding like she was mumbling and give away the fact that she was holding the sedative in her mouth without swallowing. She didn't want to hurt Carol's feelings, or make her think she didn't care about the other woman's attempts to nurture her, so the easiest thing to do was discard the pill as soon as she was alone.

That opportunity came a moment later, after Carol let herself out of the room and closed it behind her. North immediately returned to the bathroom, engaging the lock behind her when she recalled how casually Carol had let herself into the bedroom before. She tossed the pill into the toilet and flushed before quickly brushing her teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste she'd used last night.

Then she returned to her room and slid into the bed. Her intention was simply to try to think through everything and try to decide what to do next. She was puzzling through Sam's motivations for taking her from the Allises when her lids felt heavy. It couldn't be the sedative, so it must be more of the exhaustion from the last twenty-four hours catching up with her. To her surprise, she managed to fall asleep.

North woke abruptly, at first uncertain what had roused her. It took a moment, and she didn't identify until the sound came again—the sound of raised voices, though it was difficult to tell if it was from anger or excitement. Her first thought was the Allises were having an argument, and she decided to take a shower to avoid overhearing anything that might embarrass them later. It was only as she got out of bed that she realized she was hearing more than two voices.

Curiosity piqued, she changed her mind about the shower and crept closer to the door instead. It felt a little wrong to eavesdrop, but she was certain she was the topic of discussion. She was also sure that if she walked out and tried to join the conversation, they would stifle themselves. Subterfuge was the only way to hear.

When she reached the door, she spent almost a minute opening it, turning the knob just so and easing the door open a scant millimeter at a time to ensure nothing squeaked. When it was finally open, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned against the doorjamb, angling her head so that her right ear was facing outward, and she could hear.

At least she could hear well enough to make out bits and pieces. With a sigh, she eased the door wider and slipped into the hall, leaving the bedroom door open in case she had to make a run for it back to the room. The voices appeared to be coming from downstairs, so she scooted across the wooden landing on her hands and knees and moved closer to the rail. From here, she could hear everything.

"But why does it have to be so soon?" asked Jim.

A chill went down North's body when she recognized the voice of Pytor Douglas. "We've been waiting almost twenty-one years, Jim. If Campbell hadn't derailed our plans, she would have begun training almost from birth."

"But she would have been with us during most of that process, at least for the first few years. We just got her back." There was a hint of a whine in Jim's tone.

"We've lost so much time, and we can't afford to waste any more. You know she's the pinnacle of the program, and our best chance of success. We just haven't found the right combination with the others, but I'm optimistic she's the one."

"What if she doesn't want to go with you? What if she wants to stay here with us for a bit longer and get to know her family?"

She gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth to hold in the sound when there was a harsh crack in the air, like flesh against flesh.

"There are ways to ensure compliance all around, Jim. Have you forgotten our goals? I thought you and Carol were on board with our plan, and what we're trying to do here, but you seem to be more concerned about the girl than our group."

"Of course he isn't," broke in Carol, sounding nervous. "It's just a lot for us to take in, Pytor. We half-believed we'd never see her again, and then there she was. And now you're telling us that her brain lit up all the scans, and you think she'll achieve what the others haven't..." She trailed off with a nervous laugh. "We're just processing it all."

"Well process faster, because she's going into training this weekend, whether you like it or not." His voice was harsh, but sounded calmer when he spoke again a moment later. "I'm not unfeeling, Jim, but we're beyond our timeline, and we need her activated as quickly as possible. Enjoy the next few days with her, but remember she belongs to the group, not you. Don't get your loyalties conflicted, because you'll lose."

North held her breath as she waited to see what the man who was supposedly her father, at least biologically, would say in return.

"Of course, Pytor. My first loyalty is to the group, and you must take her this weekend then."

"I'll take her to the mall and buy her some new outfits for her stay. We'll have such a good time, and it won't be long before we get to see her again. Right, Pytor?"

"That depends on Nara. If she's cooperative and learns quickly, she'll be back to you in no time, except for the occasions when we need her. If we have to break her first, the process could take a while, and she might not be returned to you the exact person she left." He sounded unemotional about the _process_ , whatever it was.

"Oh, okay." Carol sounded nonplussed for a moment and then her tone brightened almost too much when she spoke again. "I guess I should enjoy our shopping trip then, since I might not have the chance again."

"It's about time for her pill. You don't want her waking up and overhearing something she shouldn't." Pytor said matter-of-factly.

North didn't wait to hear Carol and Jim's response. She crab-walked backward across the floor of the landing to her room, not getting to her feet until she was behind the door and closed it as carefully and silently as possible. As she hurried to the bed, the sound of footfalls on the stairs made her stomach clench, and she was certain she wouldn't make it back in time to get under the covers and arrange herself to appear to be sleeping before her door opened.

Fear was a great motivator, and she moved faster than she would have imagined possible, sliding under the covers and laying her head on the pillow just as the doorknob rattled slightly. Somehow, she was able to compose her breath enough to sound calm and regulated.

## 8

# Escape

The door opened a moment later, and the light clicked on. "North?" asked Carol softly. "Are you awake, sweetheart?"

The endearment made her skin crawl, but she struggled to keep her repulsion out of her expression as she turned over slowly and blinked her eyes as though they weighed a thousand pounds each. "Is that you, Carol?"

"It is. I have your other pill."

She feigned a yawn. "I don't think I need it. I'm feeling much calmer now, and I'm still pretty sleepy."

"We must listen to the doctor. Take your last pill like a good girl, and maybe tomorrow we could—"

She yawned again, though this one was authentic. "I was hoping you might be able to take me shopping tomorrow, Carol. I have no clothes with me besides the one outfit." It was imperative to get to the mall, which seemed to be her only option to escape whatever was going on with the Allises and the mysterious doctor. If her mother thought she was an enthusiastic participant, she might drop her guard and give North an opportunity to slip away.

"Why, of course we can. I was just about to suggest that very thing. I'll bring you a breakfast tray in the morning, and then we'll head out for a day of shopping." She trailed into silence for a moment, reaching forward to squeeze North's hand. When she spoke, she sounded choked up. "I thought I'd never have an opportunity for such a thing with you. I was sure you were gone forever, and you don't know what it means to me to have you back."

North managed a wan smile as she silently marveled at the woman's capacity for deception. She took the pill Carol extended and popped it in the side of her mouth as she had done before. The woman handed her a glass of water from the nightstand, and she made a production of swallowing, though the bitter pill was still dissolving against her cheek.

"We're going to have such fun. I've missed you." Carol took the glass of water to return to the nightstand and paused long enough to press a kiss to North's forehead before leaving the room.

As soon as she was gone, North spat out the pill in a tissue from the box on the nightstand. She balled it up into a tiny piece of garbage that she clutched in her hand until she could make it to the bathroom. She repeated the same process as earlier, including brushing her teeth, all while her mind whirled.

Carol had an agenda, but the strangest thing was, she also seemed to be sincere that she had missed North and had missed out on her life. North was unexpectedly sorry for her, but that made her no less afraid than she had been moments before upon overhearing their conversation with the doctor.

She had no clue what was going on, or why they were targeting her, but it was obvious Dr. Douglas had plans for her, and her parents were fully on board with them. She had to escape, and she couldn't let sentiment or guilt prevent her from doing so. At the first opportunity, she had to run away.

North struggled to remain calm and appear to be having an enjoyable time as she rode beside Carol in her Saab on the way to the mall. The woman kept up a steady stream of light chatter, and she did her best to respond to it, though it gave her a buzzing headache. She was unused to the noise of all the people talking at once, and though it was just her and Carol in the car, she had the talent for seeming like a crowd of magpies converged together rather than a single woman.

"Here we are," said Carol with what seemed like genuine delight as she parked the car. "I bet you've never been to the mall before, have you?"

North shook her head, overwhelmed by the sprawling structure and parking lot crowded with cars despite it being only late-morning. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like this." There had been similar pictures of gatherings of people in large crowds in her books, but she had certainly never seen them in real life.

A hint of anxiety swept through her as they exited the car, and she wasn't faking it when she held onto Carol's arm to cross the parking lot. She needed an anchor at the moment to face the task of entering the building with all the people inside.

"Are you all right? If this is too much for you, we can order you some clothes, and I'll get them to you...give them to you when they come."

Carol's slip of the tongue helped North focus, and she shook her head as she slowly released the other woman's arm. "No, it's okay. I can do this." She spoke confidently, though she felt like a quivering mass on the inside. Still, she managed to walk without her steps faltering, or giving in to the urge to turn and run back to the vehicle to lock herself inside, where it was safe. That was just an illusion, because she wasn't safe with the Allises.

Carol remained nearby, but now it was more of a burden than a crutch to have her so near and paying such close attention. It nixed several ideas for escape that rolled through her mind. Finally, she decided she would have to shop for a while to ensure Carol's guard was down, and she really could use some clothes.

They seemed to be wandering aimlessly down the long corridor, and so many sights caught North's eyes. She wanted to go explore each one, but forced herself to keep walking no matter how tempting each new item, because she didn't have time to dawdle.

They entered a shop after turning a corner of the corridor, and it seemed to carry nothing but fancy lingerie. She frowned doubtfully at the stuff she saw, wondering why she would need any of it.

It was a relief when Carol bypassed the skimpier selections at the front of the store to focus her attention on the back. There, North found plainer briefs and simple bras, along with actual pajamas. She picked up a few sets, limiting her purchases to everything she could carry in one bag and still run if and when it became necessary.

Carol eyed the small pile doubtfully as North laid it on the counter. "You're going to want more than that. You don't want to have to do laundry too often."

If North hadn't had an inkling that the Allises were planning to hand her over to Douglas somewhere she wouldn't be accessible, she would've thought the comment was strange, but she didn't challenge it. She simply shrugged and said, "This'll do me for now. I don't want to take advantage of your generosity."

It didn't feel right to allow Carol Allis to purchase her clothes, but North had no other options. She understood the economy was based on an exchange of currency, and she had no currency available to her. Perhaps Sam had kept a stash at the cabin, and maybe he'd carried some kind of credit card that he'd never shown her, but those things were inaccessible to her at the moment. She didn't even know where her father's body had ended up.

The thought eviscerated her and brought tears to her eyes. She barely choked back a sob and sternly reminded herself now wasn't the time to fall apart. She could grieve Sam when she was safe and free of the Allises, while trying to figure out what had happened in the past. She was certain now that for whatever reason Sam had taken her, it had been to spare her from a worse fate.

"Are you all right?" Carol frowned at her, reaching out a hand to pat her arm. "Do you need to sit down?"

North shook her head, swallowing several times before she managed to speak. "I think I'm okay now. I was just overwhelmed for a moment."

"Of course you were. You're a bit like an agoraphobic reentering the world, aren't you?"

She didn't remember learning that term, so she just shrugged. "Maybe so."

After purchasing undergarments, they left that store and moved on to a far larger one that seemed to have multiple departments. She looked around with wide-eyed curiosity, impressed by the myriad choices, coupled with the festive fall decorations. For a moment, she was tempted to forget all about what she'd heard last night and just enjoy the shopping experience, but she couldn't allow herself to yield. Losing her focus could end up costing her freedom, and no matter how amazing or intriguing the shop was, it certainly wasn't worth that.

They spent the next hour moving through the store, and North kept her purchases practical and small in quantity, so she was only holding a single large shopping bag.

There was a bit of a line at the checkout, and she stood with Carol as her gaze moved over the area. There wasn't an easy exit, so she bided her time and followed Carol to the next shop. There, they both acquired a pair of shoes, and as they left, North was growing quietly desperate. She was afraid the opportunity to slip away wouldn't come. She might have to make a break anyway without the opportunity to be discreet.

Either way, she wasn't going back to the Allises' home, but she'd hoped to slip away and buy herself some time before they realized she was aware of their plan—though she only knew a small iota of their plan, of course. It was just enough to make her cautious and afraid, but not enough to actually enlighten her as to what their intentions were. That was a dangerous combination, and she wasn't entrusting herself to their hands.

Her opening to escape came unexpectedly as Carol suggested they stop for ice cream. North stood in line behind her when someone brushed against North. "Stop him! He took my purse." Carol shouted the words, and everyone around them froze for a moment.

Instinct kicked into gear, and North turned in the direction the thief had run. "I'll get it back."

"No, North, don't do that. It isn't safe." Carol reached out for her, but she was already out of range.

Ignoring her words, North burst into a run, following the same direction as the thief. It was only when they reached the corner and disappeared from Carol's sight that she ran the opposite direction of the person who'd stolen the purse. She caught a brief glance of a tall, lithe figure with long black braids disappearing with Carol's purse, but that was it.

Her purpose was to escape, not retrieve the possession, and she kept running through the mall at full tilt until she reached the escalators on the other side. She took those down, taking advantage of the moment to catch her breath, and still move rapidly, but not a breakneck run, when she stepped out on the main floor. The exit was close, and she slipped out along with another rush of people, still clutching her shopping bag.

She breathed in a lungful of fresh air, appreciating the view of the sky for just a moment, but knowing she couldn't linger. Just because she was away from Carol didn't make her safe yet.

She moved across the parking lot, breaking into a jog when she saw there was a line of cars waiting parked parallel to a nearby curb. They seemed to be available for hire, and random people approached them. North didn't have any way to pay for the ride, but she'd worry about that after she was away from the mall.

She reached the line of people waiting, shifting restlessly on her feet. She wanted to just shove right through them and rush to the next available car, but she tried to be patient. Carol would still be looking for her chasing the purse thief, and she wouldn't have yet realized North had used the moment to slip away. Maybe. She couldn't count on having much longer, and she might have to be rude enough to shove her way past the others.

A group stepped into line behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. North forgot to breathe for a moment at the sight of handsome faces belonging to equally handsome bodies. It would've been rude to stare, but it was difficult to turn her gaze away from the pale man with the sandy-brown hair, the redhead with brown eyes that seemed to have a flame burning in them, and the slightly shorter one with curly brown hair and sparkling green eyes with a dusting of freckles across his nose.

That she had caught all those details in a brief glance amazed her, but she didn't have time to dwell on the three handsome men standing behind her. She drew in a deep breath, preparing to push past the people in front of her, but froze when a hand touched her shoulder. She shuddered, half-expecting to find Carol, Jim, or even Dr. Douglas standing behind her. Instead, it was a black man with long black hair in tiny braids and dark eyes. He smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat. "Yes?"

"I thought you'd follow me all the way out, instead of ditching me. We had our escape plan calculated for the other side of the mall."

She frowned, and then it clicked that she'd seen him before, but he'd been running with Carol's purse. She gasped and took a step back, wanting to distance herself from the thief.

The three handsome men she'd noticed before took a step closer, and at first, she thought maybe they were going to help her. It was only when they formed a ring around her, looking menacing, that she realized they were with the purse-snatcher. "What do you want?"

"You need to come with us," said the one with ice-blue eyes and silvery white hair. He hadn't been present when she had last looked behind her. The one with curly brown hair seemed to have disappeared in the process.

She shook her head. "I don't know who you are, but I'm not going anywhere with you."

"That's wrong, princess. Just relax."

She opened her mouth to scream, but didn't have a chance. The one with the long, dark braids lifted his hand, and there was a glowing green orb on his left palm. A moment later, light radiated from it and engulfed her head. North was immediately lightheaded and swooned, unable to fight the effects of whatever the purse snatcher had done to her. The ground seemed to be racing toward her, but she lost consciousness before crashing into it.

The remaining six parts are complete and available at your favorite ebook vendor, or look for the combined edition featuring all seven parts of "True North." Get the bundled set now:

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# Bonus Excerpt of True North #2: Rescued & Revelations

She woke just a few minutes later, certain it couldn't have been longer than that, because the day didn't appear any later, and the sun was where it had been, though obscured behind the clouds that had shadowed it all day. She was sitting in a van, and her arms were tied to the seat. She started struggling against them, trying to break the bonds, and a cool hand brushed across her brow. For some reason, she immediately felt less fearful.

It was the man with the sandy-brown hair, and he was smiling kindly at her. He didn't seem to be frightening, but she was certain she should be terrified. The ropes binding her to the seat were evidence of that.

"Just relax, North. We aren't going to hurt you."

She didn't speak, but glared at him and made no attempt to hide her skepticism.

"I'm Ryland DiFarness, and I'm honored to be one of your guards."

"Enough with the details, Ryland. Let Caius explain before you delve too much into it," barked the one with flaming-red hair cropped close to his face.

"I was just introducing myself, Kriss. Chill out."

"If you aren't going to hurt me, why am I tied to the seat?"

Ryland's gaze turned back to her. "We weren't certain how you would react when you woke. You're much calmer than they expected."

"Please untie me." It was her best chance of escaping, though she wasn't certain how she was going to slip away from these four men. No, make that five, because the slighter guy with the freckles drove the van.

"Don't do it," said the Nordic-looking one, sounding bored.

Ryland looked undecided for a moment, and then he nodded and leaned forward. "Hold still."

She watched, eyes widening as his fingernails elongated, and he easily sawed through the rope holding her to the seat. She spent a moment sitting there when it fell away, still staring at his long fingernails until they gradually returned to normal. "Neat trick," she said in a dry voice as she rubbed her wrists. They weren't uncomfortable by any means, but she needed something to distract herself, and hopefully them as well.

"It comes in handy."

"How do you do it?" She was genuinely curious, but also hoping to take him off-guard with her next move. It was a foolhardy plan, but it was all she could come up with.

"I'll tell you about it sometime, after you've spoken with Caius and understand everything."

"Who's Caius, and why should I care?"

"You'll find out soon enough, princess," said the ice-blond again.

"You don't have to be so dramatic about it, Marek," said the purse-snatcher from earlier, lounging in the seat across the way. "You're probably scaring her."

"Fuck off, Orin," said the one now identified as Marek.

"You're all scaring me," said North in a level tone. As she did so, she lunged out of her seat and reached for the handle on the door beside her, almost shocked when it slid open without resistance. They hadn't thought to lock her in. She hovered on the edge of jumping for a moment as the pavement raced by, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. It was better to try to escape than to surrender without a peep of protest, wasn't it?

Knowing she couldn't delay any longer, North closed her eyes and jumped, bracing herself to hit the roadway. Instead, she hung in midair, and a firm hand grasped the back of her shirt. She struggled as it reeled her in, groaning when she found herself held firmly by the redhead. "Just let me go. I don't know what you want with me, but if it's money, I don't have any."

"We're trying to keep you safe from them, and apparently from yourself." He said the words with a hint of disgust as he shook his head and put her down in the seat a little harder than necessary. "Plant your ass and stay there."

She glared up at him as she resisted the urge to rub her butt where it had collided with the firm seat. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction. "I don't know what you're planning, but I'll fight you every step of the way."

"Yeah, you do that." He wandered back to his original seat and leaned his head against it, eyes closed as if he had no cares in the world.

She glared at him, struggling to remember what Ryland had called him earlier. Kriss. It came to her after a long moment of contemplation. So she had names for four of the five, which left the driver unidentified. "And who are you?" she asked as she raised her voice and tried to direct it toward the one driving.

The steering wheel jerked in his hand, and the van jostled slightly before he straightened it out. He looked over his shoulder, frowning at her. "Me?" His cheeks bloomed with color.

"I know who the other four are, so I might as well know your name too, so I can tell it to the police." Not that she thought the police would believe any of this, and she wasn't certain she would go to them when she escaped anyway. What if they wanted to return her to the Allises? She was certain she didn't have to go back to them, since she was past the age of majority, but it might allow them to find her again, and she knew on an instinctive level that was a very bad thing.

"Eamon," he said as the blush descended down his neck. He returned his attention to the road, not looking at her again.

"Eamon's shy," said Ryland as he leaned closer, apparently deciding not to address her escape attempt. "Try not to tease him about it."

She was hardly likely to do that. Teasing implied a level of intimacy that she was certain they would never achieve, and being shy herself—or perhaps simply overwhelmed by interacting with all the people around her—she wasn't going to tease him about it. "What do you want with me? Seriously?"

He smiled, and he appeared perfectly sane and not at all frightening when he did so. "You're about to find out, North."

The van stopped a moment later, and she struggled when Marek came to stand behind her, a black cloth in his hands. Other hands confined her, though Ryland's voice was soothing when he said, "Just relax. We can't let you see the location until we're certain you can shield your thoughts from intruders."

The words made no sense at all, but as he stroked his finger up and down her arm, the tension faded from her, though she couldn't explain why. She sat docilely while Marek tied the blindfold around her eyes, and then stood up beside Ryland, certain it was him by the slight coolness of his skin as his hand took hers.

Like a ninny, she allowed Ryland to lift her from the van, embarrassed to enjoy the brief moment of contact with her body against his as he lowered her to her feet before taking her hand again. She waltzed right beside her kidnapper, barely even remembering the idea of escaping until she heard a door shut behind her.

There was a difference in the quality of light that suggested they were inside, and wherever they were was dim. She had nightmares of being held in a dank and filthy cage, so it was somewhat of a relief to find herself in a sterile white room when Marek's fingers gently eased off the blindfold. She blinked, allowing her eyes to grow accustomed to the light again as she looked around. "What is this place? Where are we, and why am I here?"

"This is the Great Hall of the Council, and you're here so we can help you."

She stiffened at the voice, turning around with her mouth agape as she saw Dr. Elias Scott walking toward her. He wore a friendly grin, but she refused to be placated by the appearance of friendliness. People who wanted to help wouldn't have kidnapped her.

North backed toward the door through which they had just entered, and they moved with her, allowing a few steps before they stopped near the door and around it. The message was clear that they weren't going to let her leave, but in spite of that, she didn't find their body language threatening. "What do you people want with me?" It seemed like everyone wanted something from her since the moment her father had died.

"Like Eli said, we just want to help," said Marek.

North turned slightly to give him a scalding glare. "If you wanted to help me, why did you kidnap me?"

"We got you out of there before Carol Allis had a chance to call for backup," said Ryland.

"And you couldn't just explain that then?" She crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at the five of them in turn before turning her attention back to Eli. "I want to know what's going on, and I want to know right now."

"Fair enough. Have you ever heard of the mythics, North?"

As she shook her head, Kriss took a step forward. "You should wait for Caius to explain."

Eli shrugged. "I had a brief talk with Caius, and he agreed I should be the one to break the news to North, since we have a rapport."

She couldn't hold back a snort. "We don't have anything, let alone a rapport. I barely know you, Dr. Scott."

He gave a melodramatic wince. "Ouch. You don't have to hurt my feelings, precious."

She rolled her eyes. "Just tell me what you have to say so I can get out of here." Where she was going, she didn't entirely know, but she was certain it wasn't going to be back to the Allises, and she wasn't staying around here with these six weirdos—no matter how handsome they were.

"We aren't really called the mythics, except as a collective term we all agreed upon a few hundred years ago. It's almost a tongue-in-cheek poke at the obliviousness of humanity."

She blinked her eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"There are multiple planes of existence in the world, North, and each one is populated by various species. There is mingling, of course, but we tend to stay in our own plane, except when it comes to Earth, which is a nexus point. Here, we all mingle if we choose to settle among the humans. It's imperative to keep our existence secret though. Humans are far too likely to go off and make unwise decisions based on fear rather than try to find a way to coexist."

"It's basically for humanity's sake that we stay hidden," said Eamon, whose ears turned red at the tip when he spoke in her direction. He didn't quite look at her, but it was clear he was trying.

North's head whirled, then started to pound. "I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about, but you sound completely insane. I need to go now."

"Give me a few more minutes, please. It won't cost you anything, and it might answer some of your own questions, like what the Allises want with you."

She stiffened at Eli's words, ignoring the coaxing tone, but swayed by the implication that he knew what the Allises planned with Douglas. "You have five minutes, and then I'm leaving, and none of you are stopping me."

They all made a show of nodding, but she wasn't convinced by their apparent acquiescence. She suspected it was simply their attempt to keep her docile and complacent by appearing to agree to her terms. She had a sinking feeling none of the six would let her leave even after five minutes. She would have to escape.

# About Aurelia

Aurelia Skye is the pen name _USA Today_ bestselling author Kit Tunstall uses when writing science fiction romance. It's simply a way to separate the myriad types of stories she writes so readers know what to expect with each "author."

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