She was drifting, afloat. She couldn’t see where she was. Everything was a white haze. The darkness seemed to have left. She could only feel her body drifting away . . . 

No. This wasn’t real. Where was she? She must have dozed off or something. She could still feel her chest heaving with every breath she took. She must know where she is . . . 

Tara forced her heavy lids to open. The white haze was still there, but then it cleared. Shapes danced in front of her and then came into focus. She blinked several times and then stared at the softly lit light that came through the glass. She tried to move her head but couldn’t. It felt like a thousand tons. Where was she? Then the glass silently split open and she gasped. She was staring at the gray-white ceiling which glowed with soft lights she couldn’t see. It was oddly soothing.

She was obviously not in her room. Her vision much clearer, she looked around. The white walls were lined with two more pods to her left. Was she in hibernation? She couldn’t remember. She tried lifting her head, and this time, she managed to move only to be hit by a hammering headache. She heard the door hiss open in the distance. She closed her eyes and laid back, her hand covering her eyes.

Rydel silently walked toward her and stood near her pod. He watched her for a few seconds. She was still in her old gown, the one she wore back at the Station. Her hand moved away and her eyes fluttered open and grew wide.

“You . . . ” she gasped as recognition dawned on her face.

“Yes, me,” he said as he injected some fluid on the side of her neck. 

A deluge of memories rapidly flooded back in her head, making the throbbing headache increase. “Ah . . . ” she moaned. “What are y . . . ?” she began.

“This will help with the headaches and nausea. Our drugs are a bit harsh for you. Humans have such frail bodies, and the side effects can be a bit overwhelming,” he said, cutting her off in that cold, emotionless voice.

For a split second, he saw something flit across her eyes, and then she slowly sat up. His chest constricted then. She didn’t trust him. Rydel wished he could explain things to her in a better way, but he didn’t know how. He ignored whatever she might be thinking about him and tried focusing on the matter at hand. He gave her a few minutes for the drug to take effect.

“How long have I been like this?” she said softly as she shifted to sit up. She felt oddly better. The alien medicine worked fast.

“One day. That’s according to Scyok time. Thirty-six hours according to the Station’s time.

“Oh . . . ” she said, looking away. His intense blue gaze was like fire. Suddenly, she was so aware of his presence in the room that she unconsciously tried to cover her disfigured face.

Rydel saw the anxious look in her big brown eyes. He knew she was uncomfortable with the side of her face uncovered.

“Come with me. I’ll show you to your quarters. You can bathe and change into a fresh set of clothing. The Ship’s computer is aware of your every action and it records everything. Ask her anything in your tongue and she will guide you. She understands multiple languages. And if you need to contact me, just press this and say whatever you want here,” he said in a formal tone as he placed a slim dark band on her wrist. “It’s a communication device. I will be in my quarters.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. She almost stumbled into him.

“B - but where are you taking me?” she asked as he dragged her outside and into the curving corridor.

He turned his head sideways and gave her a sidelong glance as if she were the dumbest person alive. “I just told you.” His tone had an undercurrent of impatience.

“I . . . I mean where is the ship taking us?” she gasped, trying to keep up with his long strides. Her eyes would inadvertently flit toward his tail that swished behind him. Somehow, she found it attractive.

Jeez, Tara, when did you start finding tails sexy? Maybe this man’s tail was different. She blinked and stared ahead. She had totally lost it.

“Later, woman,” he said curtly. She decided it was time to stay quiet for now.

***

Tara was glad her chamber was neither too small or too big. It was simple, with a flat bed and a chair. The bathroom had a system of cleansing. The steam had glowing particles which actually cleansed the body without getting it wet. It felt good to be clean again. And then there was Gyree, the ship’s computer. She was a good guide. Tara chose a soft silver-gray bodysuit with a hooded cloak. She would have preferred a gown or pants with a shirt, but body suits were all they had on this ship.

Tara tied her long, straight golden-brown hair into a bun and donned her cloak. There was a sleek-looking mirror in the recess of the wall. She stared at her reflection. She saw a disfigured woman with tired eyes who wished to be invisible.

Would Rydel love a woman like her? A woman without a face . . . He was really handsome. The Klai were known to be attractive, and they exploited it.

What was wrong with her? She had no future with him . . . at least not the kind of future she wished to have. No matter what he said, her being his mate was nothing but a ruse to use her as a sex slave. He won’t be any different. They all saw her as a clone: a mere copy, a body to be used. And the memory of her father’s death crashed into her mind.

Tears welled in her eyes as she rapidly blinked them away, swallowing the lump in her throat. She couldn’t go there . . . No, she must not let her guard down and think of him as anything other than what he truly was. She let the rage wash over her. It was the only emotion that helped her survive.

She carefully covered the side of her face with a clean scarf, pulling on the fabric roughly. A few stubborn tears slid down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand.  And then she pulled up the hood, its shadow hiding the sadness in her eyes.

Ms. Dawson, the Commander awaits you in the common room, Gyree announced overhead. She asked the computer to guide her to where he was and stepped out into the winding corridor. She followed the instructions Gyree gave her and walked on.

Where was Rydel taking her? She wondered this while walking down the corridor, the lights on the walls guiding her whenever there was an intersection. She did not trust him. No, she could not trust him. He was a Klai. She should not forget that. Klai men were not be trusted. They were murderers. It was really easy for him to kill Cayne. Although she would not admit it, she was glad he did. But whatever his plan was, she had to be careful. She had to be strong. If she wanted freedom, then she couldn’t let him get under her skin.

She reached the doors to the common room a few minutes later. Taking a deep breath, she clenched her fists to calm her heart thudding in her chest. Then, with trembling hands, she held her wrist with the band in front of the panel beside the door, just as Gyree had told her to. The device scanned her band and unlocked the door.

Rydel sat pondering over the Scroll. He looked up and did a double take as Tara walked in. The figure-hugging suit she wore set off her slender curves, softly rounded hips, and delicately-shaped small breasts. She let the hood slip back and her face, covered by the scarf-like turban was strangely seductive. His chest constricted then. She was his mate. He suppressed the urge to reach out and take it off, and let all that long hair flow free . . . He wanted to grab her and shove her on the couch and bury himself inside her till she screamed his name out loud in pure ecstasy. He could claim her if he wanted to.

No, he must find out how she was linked to the Svix. He must wait till the little mystery was solved. He needed to focus. The Scroll still hadn’t revealed anything further regarding the symbol. It had to mean something.

“Um . . . Gyree told me you wanted to see me,” she said ever so softly, not meeting his eye. He realized he was staring at her, the Scroll forgotten.

“Ah, yes. There are a few things you must know,” he said in a businesslike tone as he got up from the couch, gesturing for her to take a seat. “Make yourself comfortable, Tara.”

Her name lingered on his tongue seductively for a while. He got up and moved to the back of the room to pour them drinks. She sat down cautiously and stared at the old parchment that lay open on the table: The Scroll. There were several more sheets of paper littered near it. She could make out scribbles in another tongue, symbols that she did not recognize. It was as if he was trying to draw some kind of map and note down the names. There was an ornate dagger placed near it. She looked over her shoulder and glanced at him. His back was to her. She turned back and stared at the dagger. Slowly, her hands shaking, she picked it up. It was unsheathed, felt slightly heavy in her hands. The blade was sharp and lethal. She remembered the way it had slit Cayne’s throat. She shuddered. She slid it under her cloak near the couch, away from sight.

Rydel walked toward her carrying two trays of food. “Hold these,” he said, handing her the trays without waiting for a response. She stared at the food. He cleared the table and put the papers on the chair nearby in one heap. Then he took the trays back and placed one in front of her and the other next to it. He sat opposite her on another chair.

“I’m sure you must be famished by now,” he said in that low voice of his. “Eat. You will need your strength.” He picked up his drink and took a swig. Rydel laughed. “Don’t look so scared. You want to try this?” he gestured toward the dark chunk of a block sitting on his platter. It smelled weird. And Tara gagged. “I guess not,” he said making a face.

He realized she looked miserable. “I got you human food, Tara,” he said in a serious tone. “I was just teasing. I know you are not ready to eat Klai meat yet.”

“I . . . I would never eat that,” she said softly. And he saw how forlorn she looked.

“Okay, I hope you like the sandwich. It won’t be that good but it’s better than nothing. Eat, Tara,” he said matter-of-factly. He took another swig and dug in.

Tara averted her eyes and timidly picked up her sandwich. Slowly, she took a bite and found it was okay. Not that bad after all. She took a sip of wine.

“So, here’s the thing. We will be landing on Planet Ranus in another two weeks or so. I have to pick up the stone there which, according to the Scroll, is hidden in the Dark Woods. Then we will hopefully head back to Scyok,” He took another swig and finished off the remaining food. He was fast. She still had eaten only half the sandwich.

“But I still have to figure out what that symbol means,” he gestured toward her wrist, his intense eyes, cool as ice, gazed at her. She squirmed and looked away. “How did you get it?”

“Why is this symbol so important to you?” she asked him. “What does it mean?”

“You tell me,” he said, draining his glass. Then he leaned sideways and picked up the Scroll from the heap. “What do you make of this?” he asked, gazing intently at her as he showed her the symbol on the Scroll.

Tara stared at the similarity. The symbol was the same. Her stomach knotted terribly. “I . . . I don’t know,” she whispered. He saw fear in her eyes. “This mark has been here as long as I can remember. I don’t know how it got there.”

He figured she was telling the truth.

“You, you keep looking at that parchment . . . The symbol . . . What does it mean?” she asked, a worried look in her eyes.

“That’s what I have been trying to figure out. I had hoped you would know something that would lead us to find the Svix,” he said, sighing.

“I . . . I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Now listen carefully,” he said as she finished her food. “Back home, my people are dying. A virus has spread like a plague and we are looking for a cure. This Scroll is magical. It has guided our ancestors for thousands of years. The leader of our tribe, Hyrak – or this Scroll, more accurately – has chosen me to find the Svix. The essence of life. It is our only hope.”

Tara watched him, hardly understanding his story. “I still don’t get it. What all of this has got to do with me?”

He refilled his glass and took another swig. “Honestly, I don’t know. Look, I have never been much of a believer, but this Scroll reveals clues, riddles, which I have to figure out. They will lead to the Svix. I’m guessing this symbol here shows that the Svix might look like this or something. And it is somehow linked to you. And . . . ” He unrolled the parchment to show her something. “It has given us a map.”

Tara looked at the age-old scroll. It seemed confusing. She glanced at him then. He had pointy ears, she noticed. And then her eyes roved over his sharp features. He had the straight, chiseled nose and carefully carved lips . . . It was the same mouth that had claimed hers that day in the most passionate kiss ever. She gasped at the memory and looked away.

No, no, no . . . What was wrong with her? She couldn’t go down that lane. It was too dangerous. She was stupid to even think that he would ever love her. He wanted her as his mate. But she could not imagine spending the rest of her life with a Klai. He was the enemy. Had always been the enemy. No, this wasn’t happening.

“When we land on Ranus, I will follow this and get the stone,” Rydel said, showing her the map. Tara snapped out of her thoughts. She took another bite, finishing the sandwich as she focused on the discussion at hand.

“Are you sure you will find it there?” she asked cautiously, remembering he was telling her something about the stone.

“Of course. The Scroll is the best guide.”

Right . . . He could do whatever he wanted with his wild plan. But she was not being part of it. She was getting out. She took another sip and stared at her plate. “And what about this planet? Is it habitable?” she asked.

“Yes. The Great City there is actually a tourist spot,” Rydel explained.

Tara thought that was a relief. She could go out and find a place to settle down. It would be the first time she would ever set foot on a real planet.

“Tara?” Rydel said in a low voice as Tara grew quiet. “He beat you up, didn’t he?”

She shuddered and closed her eyes.

“It’s okay. Don’t get upset.” His voice was oddly gentle. “He’s gone now.”

Her hands clenched into fists. “It wasn’t just the beatings . . . He raped me, too . . . And, and the first time . . . I resisted, h . . . he did this to my face,” she said, gesturing toward the damaged side of her face. “He said I was no longer pretty . . . and that I would know my place . . . ” She sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

“Here.” He poured her more wine. His chest constricted as he saw the sadness in her eyes. “Drink.”

She took a sip and let out a shuddering breath. And wiped the tears away, trying hard to look strong.  “I . . . I’m sorry.”

He quietly gazed at her. How could he say it was okay when it was not? He had no words to comfort her, and the ache in his heart grew.

They sat in silence for a while. She stared at her hands, lost in thought while he stared at the Scroll.

“Let me go,” Tara whispered looking up at him.

“What . . . ?” Rydel began, surprised by her sudden reaction.

“Let me go!” she said a bit louder. “I don’t care what your plan is. I want you to let me go.”

“I can’t. You are staying with me, Tara. You are my mate,” he said, frowning.

Tara closed her fingers around the dagger’s hilt beneath her cloak and stood up, pulling out the dagger, pointing at his chest. She held the dagger with both hands as they shook.

“I am not your mate!” she said through clenched teeth. “I will never be your mate, your sex slave, or anything you want me to be!” Her voice had grown shrill.

He gazed at her quietly for a while, calmly, analyzing her, his ice blue eyes blazing, betraying him. “Where would you go, Tara?” he asked, raising a perfectly arched dark brow. The chill in his voice had returned.

“Anywhere away from you,” she said, seething. There was a fire in her eyes that surprised him. “Let me go!”

He stood up and she stepped back, blinking.

Her hands shook terribly as she tried hard to keep them stable while she held the dagger. Her breathing was labored. “Let me go . . . please,” she whispered, pleading now, the rage dampened.

He was quick. Moving toward her, he reached out and grabbed her wrist holding the dagger. She shrieked as it slipped from her delicate fingers, dropping to the floor with a clang. His face close to hers, he slid one arm around her waist and pulled her close, his hard body crushing against hers. With his other hand, he cupped her chin and gazed hard into her eyes.

“You are free, but you are my mate. I will follow you wherever you go as I am bound to protect you,” he said through clenched teeth, with such finality in his tone that it sent a chill down her spine.

“You can hate me all you want, but I will make sure you will accept this bond. You won’t be able to eat or breathe unless you have me inside you,” he said in a low, calm voice, his piercing gaze searing her very soul.

She slapped him hard across his face. “Bastard,” she said. He didn’t even flinch. But the icy fire in his eyes blazed.

“I’d rather die,” she said as tears filled her eyes . . . “I despise your kind . . . All of you are the same – lying, treacherous beasts!”

Something shifted in his eyes as they darkened.

“Hmm, really? And yet the man who raped you, disfigured you, and treated you like a whore was human, wasn’t he?” he said in a low, calm voice so cold it chilled her to the bone.

Shocked, she looked away, unable to look into his eyes as his words cut through her heart. But he had seen the sadness seep in followed by despair.

He let her go and she hugged herself, unable to say anything else. He was right.

Rydel regretted what he said immediately. “I . . . I didn’t . . . ” Silent tears now streamed down her cheeks. His words had humiliated her. She turned away from him, head lowered, and walked toward the door. “Gyree, show me the way to my quarters, please.”

“Tara . . . wait!” Rydel began, but she was already outside. The door slid closed.

“Fuck!” he cursed under his breath. What had come over him? Why did she hate the Klai so much? He did know they had a bad reputation as space pirates, but her hatred seemed to be on a personal level.

He sat down on the couch and ran a hand through his dark hair. Her sad, sad eyes haunted him. He couldn’t take the image out of his head. He picked up the wine bottle and took a swig.

Claiming her would be difficult, he could see that now. He could have easily proved to her that she was his mate and that avoiding him would only devastate her and make her sick. But his pride wouldn’t let him. He wanted her to trust him and accept him.

She was human, so he knew she would feel the repercussions of the unclaimed mating sooner or later. But winning her heart seemed impossible. The pain in his heart grew as he thought about it.