Drex drummed on the conference table with his fingertips, impatiently waiting for Jenna’s arrival. She was ten minutes late, and she couldn’t blame it on traffic. She had a room upstairs in this hotel. Had her night been as restless as his? Doubtful. She’d refused to kiss him, so he was the only one being consumed by desire, and possibilities.

“You might want to relax that scowl before she arrives,” Sedrik advised, amusement clear in his hushed tone. The general sat next to Drex at the oblong table, and Governor Raylon Lasenger sat on Sedrik’s other side. They were the two most powerful Rodytes in Earth-space. Drex was merely their mouthpiece and legal advisor.

“I’ve been scowling since I met her,” Drex countered. “A smile would seem suspicious.”

Raylon chuckled, obviously listening to their conversation.

“Well, here she comes, so it’s too late to cheer up anyway.” Sedrik nodded toward the doorway through which Jenna had just passed. The opening was flanked by battle born guards armed with flexblades and plasma blasters. Another set of guards was stationed in the hallway outside, and even more patrolled the lobby and entrances to the hotel. Humans were unpredictable and hostilities still ran high after the tragedy in L.A., so General Lux wasn’t taking any chances.

Drex shifted his gaze to the doorway and heat cascaded through his body. Jenna was back in a business suit similar to the ones she’d worn during the tribunal. The dark brown skirt ended just above her knees and the jacket was formfitting enough to showcase her feminine shape without being too much of a distraction. Being able to see so much of her creamy skin the night before had been a real treat. Her hair was secured in a simple twist against the back of her head, and her lovely features were held in an expression both serious and assessing. Her strange golden gaze drifted his way for a millisecond before she focused on one of her colleagues.

“I don’t need to ask if you told her or not,” Sedrik whispered. “The temperature in this room just dropped by ten degrees.”

The negotiating teams sat on opposite sides of the table. Jenna sat in the middle with one of her companions on either side of her. Human guards took up strategic positions around the room as a smiling waitress offered the negotiators coffee and water.

Drex lightly scanned the room, absorbing emotions without analyzing the source or implications of each one. He used the technique frequently. It allowed him to determine if anything suspicious was happening and whether or not he needed to be involved. He didn’t sense anything unusual for the situation, so he started to minimize his empathic sensitivity. Then his gaze returned to Jenna and curiosity took over.

Twice he’d tried to sense her and twice he’d failed. Had she been taught how to erect mental shields? Most humans had no paranormal aptitude, so why couldn’t he sense her? He increased the sensitivity of his empathic receptors, but not surprisingly, he felt nothing. His gaze narrowed as he backed off his empathy and reinforced his shields. The only beings he’d encountered that he couldn’t sense were other empaths. His mentor had told him it was a biological protective mechanism that kept empathic receptors from locking on to each other, creating dangerous echo loops. But Jenna was human. Could she also be empathic?

Oblivious to his curiosity, Jenna introduced her team, then Drex did the same. Both of her teammates were generals, one from the Army, the other the Air Force. The choice seemed odd if Earth was truly seeking a peaceful solution to the conflict, but Drex knew asking about it would put the humans on the defensive.

“Just so there is no confusion,” she said once the pleasantries had been exchanged, “can you explain what you need from us?”

“We need you to stop interfering with our transformation program,” Raylon muttered.

The governor’s impatience with diplomacy was well-known. Drex wasn’t sure why Sedrik had insisted that Raylon be included in the negotiations, but Drex had no input in the choice. All he could do was soften the blows. “Governor Lasenger might have put too sharp a point on it, but he’s correct. We’re simply asking that you allow us to present our offer to eligible females, and that each willing female be allowed to participate in the program.”

“Why are you focused solely on the U.S.?” the Air Force general wanted to know. “Your interest is clearly not random.”

“We’ve found a higher concentration of compatible females in certain geographical areas. These areas happen to be in the U.S.” It was true, but the reason for the concentration wasn’t happenstance as he implied. A powerful magic spell was drawing compatible females to areas known as sacred bonding grounds. He wasn’t opposed to explaining what that meant, but he saw no reason to introduce the detail.

“We’re still wary of the transformation process itself,” Jenna told him. “However, as long as you allow some form of human oversight, and each female knows all the risks before she volunteers, we have agreed to let the program proceed. Our biggest concern now is what happens to the bonded couples once the transformation has taken place?” Jenna looked at each of the Rodytes in turn, her cool expression unchanging. “Will the females be expected to leave Earth, or are you asking permission for magically empowered Rodyte males to immigrate to the United States?”

“We’re hoping to give each bonded couple a wide variety of options.” Drex scooted to the edge of his seat and squared his shoulders. “If the battle born are locked into predetermined roles, even after their transformation, then the rebellion failed. The fundamental purpose for the conflict is to create a future where the battle born are allowed to shape their lives into anything they want. Some, perhaps many, of the females will not want to leave their homeworld. It stands to reason that some of the couples will settle on Earth, some will return to Rodymia, and others will go somewhere entirely new.”

Jenna shook her head, apparently displeased with his answer. “Empowered warriors would be an enormous security risk.”

“Or they could be an enormous benefit,” Drex pointed out. “Within the current structure of your immigration policies, ‘persons of extraordinary ability’ are given greater consideration than those without such skills. Spouses of U.S. citizens are also prioritized. Is this correct?”

Jenna smiled, then glanced at each of her companions. “The ‘extraordinary ability’ provision refers to highly skilled engineers and Olympic-level athletes, not mind readers and soothsayers.”

He shrugged off her obstinacy. “Only because you’ve never encountered a legitimate mind reader or soothsayer.” This was too important to be derailed by her stubbornness. “Is there any reason the category can’t be expanded to include those with verifiable paranormal abilities?”

She started to answer, but the Army general leaned in and whispered something in her ear. She shot him a confounded look and he nodded, his expression stern. “We’re willing to consider the possibility, but we need to set new limits and detail-specific qualifications so they can be applied consistently.”

Both Sedrik and Raylon nodded, so Drex said, “We agree.”

“Good. Shall we continue with—”

A disruption in the utility corridor drew everyone’s attention to the door through which the waitress had been coming and going. The door slammed open and the waitress was shoved into the room. She landed on her hands and knees with a startled gasp, the contents of her tray scattering all around her. Two human males barged in behind her, wearing bulky jackets and dark pants.

One shouted, “Earth for humans!”

The other yelled, “Resistance Force!”

Springing into action as they heard the disruption, the guards, both human and battle born, drew their weapons and rushed to form a protective barrier around the negotiators.

“Hands in the air!” one of the human guards ordered.

Time seemed to slow and Drexel’s heart slammed against his ribs. His gaze immediately shot to Jenna, needing to protect her, but the nearest path to her side was now filled with armed guards. She sank down in her chair, looking pale and frightened. He gritted his teeth and scooted to the edge of his chair.

“Death to all aliens!” the intruders chorused as they drew hand guns out of their pockets.

The guards opened fire, but so did the terrorists. Bullets and plasma blasts erupted in a maelstrom of destructive power. Flexlar body armor protected the battle born guards, but the human soldiers jerked and twisted as bullets tore into their flesh.

Jenna screamed and three bloody circles appeared on her jacket, quickly spreading like spilled paint across her chest. Instantly disregarding the danger, Drex leapt onto the table and scrambled across. Searing pain tore through his side, twisting his torso as his vision blurred. It took a second for his muddled mind to realize the startled cry echoing in his ears was his.

Each movement he made spiked the pain, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was Jenna. He slid off the table and shoved her chair back far enough to scoop her up and drag her beneath the table clutched against his chest. She clung to him, moaning weakly, eyes squeezed shut against the pain.

His side burned and he was starting to feel woozy, but his wound was nothing compared with hers. Her face was ashen, lips rapidly turning blue. There was so much blood!

The gunfire gradually stopped, as did the screams. In a matter of minutes, the terrorists were dead, but the damage was already done.

“She needs a medic!” Drex shouted.

Sedrik moved his chair out of the way and bent to one knee, bending sideways so he could see under the table.

“She’ll bleed to death before they get her to a human hospital.” Drex looked down at her, then into Sedrik’s eyes, pleading with his gaze as well as his words. “Please, help her.”

Sedrik turned his head slightly to one side. “General Lux to the Triumphant. Medical emergency. Stream me and anyone not standing in this room to Med-bay 3.”

“You’re out of range, sir. Is there someone else who can—”

“Use the Fearless as a relay,” Sedrik snapped. “Just make it happen!”

No one refused a direct order from General Lux, but it took the crewmembers a few agonizing minutes to work out the logistics. When Drex finally felt the bio-streaming engine engage, he shifted Jenna more fully into his arms. Pain radiated through his side and chest, momentarily stealing his breath. Bio-streaming was a relatively new technology for Rodytes, but his frequent and often sudden trips to Earth had abolished the novelty for Drex. He managed to get his legs beneath him and slowly stood as the disorientation wore off.

“Over here.” A medic on his left motioned toward a treatment table. Drex staggered to the raised bed and carefully placed Jenna on the padded surface. She groaned and her head rolled from one side to the other. Thank the gods, she was still alive.

His side throbbed, a constant reminder that he was also wounded. He pressed his hand over the area and stubbornly ignored the pain. Until he knew she was out of danger, nothing else mattered.

The medic activated the diagnostic canopy and an intricate web of scanner beams appeared all around her. Some of them swept back and forth across the length of her body, while others remained steady.

“She definitely needs regeneration, but I’ve stopped the bleeding,” the medic informed. “Doctor Mintell might want to remove the projectiles himself. The regen units tend to cause unnecessary damage when they attempt that sort of thing.”

“Will she survive?” Drex’s throat was so tight he barely forced the words out.

“Yes, of course.” The medic went off to find his supervisor and Drex allowed himself to exhale.

Extensive regeneration would leave her weak for a day or two, but she would fully recover. He brushed the hair back from her forehead, mesmerized by the delicate beauty of her face. Even pain-tense and smeared with blood, she was more attractive to him than any female in the universe. It was almost irrational.

As his fear lessened, the pain in his side became more persistent. Each breath sent stinging sensations deep into his abdomen, and pressing his hand over the area no longer helped. He looked around the room. Medical teams were working on three of the human guards and a bullet had creased the face of one battle born soldier. How in all of hells’ rings had this happened? How had those fools gotten past the perimeter guards?

“Is she all right?” Sedrik asked as he walked up on the other side of Drex. The general looked cool and in control, as always, but compassion warmed his purple-ringed eyes.

“She will be. The medic stopped the bleeding, but he thinks Doctor Mintell will want to remove the bullets himself.”

Sedrik nodded and a faint smile curved his lips. “Mintell doesn’t fully trust the regen units. Thinks he can do everything better himself.”

“I thought he was stationed aboard the Intrepid.” The detail was unimportant. Drex just needed to think about something other than the nauseating throb in his side and his mate riddled with bullet holes.

“I transferred him shortly after I arrived. His people aboard the Intrepid are now familiar with the transformation protocols, so I brought him here to train a second team.”

“Makes sense. That way you can process couples twice as fast.”

Sedrik’s smile broadened. “I’m glad you approve.”

Drex rolled his shoulders, trying to disperse the tension gathering there. Instead, the maneuver accented the stinging pain in his side. He hissed and pressed even harder against the area.

“Are you wounded?” Sedrik’s voice snapped with authority and irritation. He pulled Drex’s hand away from his side, revealing the blood stain. “Hells’ rings, man, why didn’t you say something?”

Before Drex could defend his actions, the general stormed away. He returned a few moments later with one of the medics. This one was younger and more personable than the first.

“Slip off your jacket and anything underneath,” the medic directed.

Drex obeyed, grimacing and hissing as his side protested each movement. The bleeding had nearly stopped, but his side was already vividly discolored and the gash was long and deep.

The medic thoroughly cleaned the area then used a handheld med-unit to stimulate healing. “The contusion is more of a problem than the laceration. You’ll be sore for a few days, but I doubt this will leave a scar.”

A lasting scar was the least of his concerns. He needed to be strong enough to ensure Jenna’s safety. “What about range of motion and strength?”

“They should return by tomorrow.” The gash closed and the throbbing gradually receded, though some of the discoloration remained.

Drex took a deep breath, thrilled to find it no longer hurt.

“Do you need an analgesic?” The medic deactivated the med-unit and stepped back.

Slowly raising his arm and stretching the muscles in his side, Drex tested the level of soreness. “I’ll be fine without one. Any chance you can find me a shirt?”

The medic nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Mintell joined them a few minutes later, his uniform already covered in blood. He assessed the readouts and quickly examined Jenna before acknowledging the males. “She will fully recover,” he assured. “But I need to do some clean up before we move her to a regen unit.” He glanced at Drex’s naked chest. “Were you injured as well?”

“Yes, but one of your medics took good care of me.”

Mintell nodded, then motioned toward the nearest exit. “You’ll need to wait in the outer room.”

Reluctantly, Drex moved away from the treatment table and followed Sedrik out into the reception area. The second medic caught him by the exit and gave him one of the clingy shirts worn under uniforms. Drex thanked him then joined Sedrik in the waiting room. He looked around as he slipped on the shirt. The information desk was empty, as were the double row of chairs.

“I’m going to the command center.” Sedrik glanced at the chairs and shook his head. “Don’t sit here and drive yourself crazy. Regeneration takes hours, sometimes many hours. Go clean up, then return to the hotel and see if you can figure out who those bastards were and how they got past my security team.”

Drex nodded, still stunned and anxious, but willing to obey.

* * * * *

The next six hours passed in a blur of activity and frustration. Raylon had taken over the crime scene while Sedrik dealt with the wounded. Raylon might be a politician now, but his background and training were military. He’d locked down the hotel, refusing to let anyone in or out until they figured out exactly how the assailants had reached the conference room with loaded guns stuffed in their pockets.

“We need to insist that all talks take place on one of our ships.” Raylon paused to rub the back of his neck. They’d just finished interviewing the last witness on the list they’d compiled with the help of the hotel manager. “A simple munitions scanner would have stopped this long before a single bullet left a gun.”

Drex nodded. The tribunal had taken place aboard the Destroyer, so Sedrik reluctantly agreed to let the humans host the first round of negotiations. Clearly, their security had been insufficient. As had the battle born’s, but why? What had they missed? “This doesn’t feel like an isolated incident. Someone has to know something about this ‘Resistance Force’.”

As if summoned by the comment, Morgan Hoyt walked into the office Raylon had commandeered for the investigation. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

Drex and Raylon were still seated at the small round table they’d used for the interviews. They exchanged greetings, then Raylon motioned her toward one of the empty chairs.

Morgan directed a large human taskforce that dealt with conflicts involving aliens. Drex had met her during the tribunal and liked her immediately. She was a striking redhead, with a sharp intellect, and an impressive network of covert agents. If anyone knew about the Resistance Force, it would be Morgan.

“I was told the wounded were taken to one of your ships,” Morgan said as she joined them at the table. “Will everyone recover?”

“One of the human guards died during transport. Doctor Mintell was unable to revive him. Everyone else will be fine.”

Drex stared at Raylon in shocked silence. Jenna had so completely absorbed his attention that someone had died a few feet away and he hadn’t even realized it. Shame warmed his cheeks and made him shift uncomfortably on his chair. He could not let bonding fever eclipse the rest of reality. It was dangerous, and selfish.

“I heard that Jenna Fermont was among the wounded. How badly was she hurt?” Morgan looked at him expectantly. Had she learned that he had accompanied the wounded, or had she noticed his interest in Jenna?

“She required regeneration, but she’ll make a full recovery.”

Morgan nodded. “I’m glad. I think she could be a real asset, if we ever managed to land on the same side of a conflict.”

Drex couldn’t quite summon a smile. The day had been too frustrating and he was still worried about Jenna.

“So, are you ready to compare notes?” Morgan folded her hands on the tabletop and looked from Raylon to him, then back.

“We’d love to, but we don’t have much to offer,” Raylon warned.

“Unfortunately, I don’t either. Maybe we can piece together a better glimpse at the puzzle.”

Raylon nodded, then explained, “The assailants arrived before us. That’s why they weren’t confronted at one of the doors.”

“They were already inside?” Morgan’s arched brows scrunched together. “Did they have a room or were they wandering around the lobby for hours?”

“One of the gunmen was romantically involved with the waitress assigned to the meeting rooms. She let them in through a backdoor half an hour before our first security sweep and told them to wait in the break room until her shift ended. She swears she had no idea they were involved with any sort of terrorist organization and was completely unaware of their plans for today. She also claims that they have only been dating for a couple of weeks, so she was likely targeted because of her position.”

“Do you believe her?”

She’d asked Raylon, but Drex answered. “She was telling the truth.” When Morgan responded with a challenging look, he added, “I’m really good at reading people and she was horrified by what they’d done.”

“How far in advance was this location chosen?” Morgan asked.

“About two weeks,” Raylon told her.

“Around the same time this new man came into her life,” she mused.

“Exactly.”

Morgan’s bright blue gaze shifted back to Drex. “Just how good are you at reading people? Have you been through the transformation program?”

He shook his head. “I’m not battle born.”

“But he is empathic,” Raylon told her.

Drex glared at Raylon. They didn’t know Morgan well enough to reveal his abilities. In fact, he wasn’t sure how Raylon knew. Sedrik must have told him.

“She needs to know why we’re so sure of our facts, what few of them there are,” Raylon replied, clearly not regretting his decision.

“Relax,” Morgan urged. “I work with empowered people all the time.”

“Her mate is remarkably powerful,” Raylon added.

Morgan chuckled. “No secret is safe with you, I see.”

“Didn’t know Nazerel’s abilities were a secret,” Raylon countered, still unapologetic.

More than ready to move on, Drex said, “That’s basically all we know.”

“Well, it fits in well with what little we’ve been able to learn,” Morgan assured them. “As you probably guessed, the Resistance Force formed in L.A. in the aftermath of the disaster. Their leader calls himself, or herself, Abaddon.”

“Is there some significance to the name?” Raylon asked.

She nodded. “The name appears in the Bible as both a person and a place. According to Revelation, he’s Angel of the Abyss or Destroyer. Some even believe Abaddon is another name for Satan.”

“Charming,” Drex grumbled. “Do you have any idea about his or her real identity?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. And the information we have on the Resistance Force is just as sketchy. They had a rapidly growing social media following until we shut them down. They claimed responsibility for a string of demonstrations and riots. They haven’t yet claimed responsibility for what happened today, but we all know they will.”

“How are they communicating if you shut down their social media accounts?” Drex asked.

“Snapchat or email, we’re not sure. They create false identities as fast as we expose them. They’re frustratingly sophisticated for a grassroots organization.” She took half a sheet of paper out of her pocket and passed it to Raylon. “This symbol is popping up all over the place. At first we thought it was a new twist on the anarchy symbol, but it appeared in several places on Abaddon’s website and social media pages. I’m pretty sure it’s a sort of logo for the Resistance Force.”

Raylon looked at the image, then passed it to Drex. The red outline of an angel, wings spread, had been drawn across a black background. On the angel’s chest was a stylized A, dripping with blood.

“Both the gunmen are dead, and the waitress was the only one who knew anything about them.” Raylon sighed, taking the paper back from Drex. “I’m not sure what more we can learn here.”

Morgan pushed back from the table and stood. “If there’s anything I can do to help, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Actually, there is. Can you assign a team to protect Jenna?” It felt wrong to allow someone else to protect his mate, but Jenna hadn’t yet accepted his claim. Besides, her resentment of all things Rodyte was obvious. “She’ll throw a fit if battle born guards start following her around, but she needs protection. At least until the negotiation is complete.”

“How long will she be… Which ship is she on?”

The men exchanged looks before Raylon admitted, “She’s on the Triumphant.”

Curiosity creased Morgan’s brow as she heard the name. “I haven’t heard of that one. More battle born secrets?” Raylon just smiled, so she looked at Drex. “A security team will be waiting for Jenna when she returns.”

“Thank you.”

They thanked the hotel manager for the use of his office and released the battle born soldiers who had been maintaining the lockdown. The police officer overseeing the crime scene looked even more relieved than the manager to finally see them leave. Interacting with humans was becoming trickier every day.

“I’m heading back to Lunar Nine,” Raylon told him as their shuttle prepared for departure from the rooftop helipad a short time later. “Can you update Sedrik, or would you prefer I do it.”

“It’s no trouble. Jenna is on the Triumphant.”

“Good luck with that. She doesn’t strike me as the type to give in without a fight.”

Drex shrugged with a nonchalance he didn’t feel. “Just makes the surrender that much sweeter.” Raylon’s only response was a soft chuckle, so Drex watched the city recede in the main viewscreen. The immediate crisis might have passed, but his biggest challenge was waiting for him in clinic three.

* * * * *

Jenna woke up slowly, her awareness returning gradually. The consuming pain that had driven her into the blackness was gone, but oppressive fatigue made even the slightest movement difficult. “Where am I?” She could hear movement to her right, so she knew she wasn’t alone.

“You’re aboard the Triumphant.”

She wasn’t surprised to find Drexel at her side. She had a faint memory of him flying across the conference table and shielding her with his body. His heroic impulse had just been half a minute too late. She’d been shot repeatedly in the chest. How was she still alive?

“Your injuries required regeneration, so Sedrik brought you to one of his clinics.”

Sedrik owned clinics? She couldn’t get her muddled mind to focus. No, Sedrik commanded ships, lots and lots of ships. The Triumphant must be a battle born spaceship.

She opened her eyes, blinked away the glare, and looked around. The room was small and orderly, like a budget cabin on a cruise ship. But there were no medical devices and no one but Drex and her. “This isn’t a clinic.”

He smiled and pushed to his feet. “There was some sort of malfunction that caused a bunch of injuries, so they moved you here about an hour ago. Dr. Mintell said you need to rest for at least a day before you even think of returning to Earth. Your injuries have been repaired, but there were complications.”

She’d known Rodyte technology was advanced, but cellular regeneration? She swallowed hard, feeling a bit less dazed. “What sort of complications?” unsure if her body still functioned properly, she slowly sat up.

Without answering her question, he moved to a small compartment inset in the wall and “printed” a bottle of water. She knew from her stay on the Destroyer that the device was called a nutrition generator, or nutri-gen. “Are you thirsty?” He loosened the cap then handed her the bottle.

“What, do you need another DNA sample?”

He tilted his head, looking mildly contrite. “I already apologized for that.”

She was thirsty, but she was also curious. Why had he avoided her question? “If all I need is rest, you don’t need to babysit me.” She took a long drink as she waited for his response.

Rather than sit on the edge of the bed, as he’d done when she awakened, he dragged a chair over and sat beside the bed. “Everyone presumed you were human, so the regen unit was calibrated with those parameters. The misconception nearly killed you before Dr. Mintell figured out what was going on.”

Jenna felt her face heat and her heart thudded erratically. She held the water bottle with both hands, allowing the coolness to soothe her. “My heritage is no one’s business but my mother and me.”

His head tilted again as he studied her. She’d seen the assessing expression so many times she wanted to smack him. “Are you battle born?”

“My mother is human, not Bilarrian.” She shuddered then took another drink of water. Just the idea of capturing an enemy female and forcing her to bear a child for the slim possibility of reintroducing magic into one’s bloodline was horrific. The war between Bilarri and Rodymia might have been raging off and on for centuries, but nothing excused such a barbaric practice.

“It’s an honest mistake. The doctor didn’t go into detail. She was reluctant to tell me anything because we aren’t a bounded pair.”

“My parents were lovers, not captor and captive. My mother was not a war bride.” With another shiver, she set the water bottle on the bedside shelf and tossed back the covers. Seeing her bare legs, she gasped. All she wore was an oversized undershirt. “Where are my clothes?”

“They had to be removed for regeneration.” To his credit, his gaze remained on her face. “Besides your jacket and blouse were ruined and your pants were splattered with blood. I’m not sure they can be restored.”

She whipped the bedding over her legs, then folded them in front of her. “I can’t stay in bed and I won’t parade around half-naked. Can you please find me something to wear?”

“I put a pair of exercise pants and a clean shirt in the utility room.” He motioned toward a door across from the bed. “I figured you might need the facilities.”

If he was waiting for a show, he was going to be disappointed. “I’m fine. Please go get them for me.”

A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, but he said nothing. She was about to repeat the request, without the “please”, when he stood and walked to the bathroom. Damn the man was handsome—and persistent. She’d never dealt with a man who was obsessed with her before. He was keeping his actions on the sane side of stalking, but his tenacity was unsettling.

Humans were far more pragmatic when it came to relationships, or at least she had always been. Genetic compatibility and supernatural “pulls” were never a concern. She’d been drawn to her lovers by mutual interests and compatible personalities. Physical attraction always played a part, but external beauty was so fleeting and undependable.

Drexel returned with a stack of neatly folded garments. “Shall I turn my back?”

The challenge in his smile made her change her answer from yes to no. “I suspect you’ve seen plenty of naked females. We’re all basically equipped the same.” She accepted the stack of clothes. His fingers brushed over hers and tingles skittered up her arms.

He returned to his chair, but turned his head as she slipped into the clean clothes. The shirt was huge, which would have been helpful if it wasn’t so clingy. The pants were gathered at the ankles and had a drawstring at the waist, so they more or less fit. Feeling a bit more secure while fully clothed, she settled on the bed and picked up the half-full water bottle.

“Tell me about your father,” he coaxed as she settled on top of the covers. “What was he doing on Earth, or did they meet somewhere else?”

She felt weak and shaky, but she wasn’t really sleepy. Clearly he wasn’t going to let her leave the cabin, so a conversation might be her only hope for a distraction. “Never met the man, don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Do you know what he was doing on Earth?”

She smiled at his misconception and stacked a couple of pillows behind her back. “He was born here.”

That surprised him and his blue-ringed gaze narrowed. “He was Tandori?”

She nodded. “He was born to the Fairfax county clan, but joined one of the wilderness communities when he was in his teens.” Tandori Tribe, a large group of Rodyte refugees, had settled on Earth hundreds of years ago to avoid participating in a war they didn’t support. Most clans blended with humans, but some avoided them entirely by living in secluded, often primitive, villages.

“Tandori Tribe is militant about bloodlines,” Drex pointed out. “Did your father claim your mother once he realized they were compatible?”

She tensed. Even after all these years the truth was abrasive and hard to admit. Maybe they should have watched a movie. She sighed. She’d introduced the conversation. It was only fair to indulge his curiosity. “He wanted to claim her, badly. But Mom wasn’t sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life in a secluded commune, cut off from her family and friends. You see, my mother came from money, and life in the Tandori village was very different from the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. The contrast was fascinating for a while. In fact, that was a large part of what drew her to him. But the novelty wore off fast and she began to miss her real life.”

“Humans feel threatened by anything they don’t understand. There is safety in seclusion.”

Of course he would defend Tandori Tribe. He was pureblood Rodyte. Had he forgotten she was half human? “What my mother felt ‘threatened by’ was his overbearing attitude and deceitful ways.”

“Rodyte males are often overbearing,” he admitted. “How was he deceitful?”

She paused for a sip of water, needing a moment to order her thoughts. “She refused to bond with him, so he convinced one of their healers to give her an injection that made it possible for her to conceive without the mating bond. Only problem was, dear old dad told Mom the shot was a vaccine.”

Drex sighed and glanced away, looking suitably guilty. “I’ve heard of such things. I agree, their use is deceitful.”

“So Mom found herself knocked up and terrified. She wasn’t sure she wanted a baby, much less a half-alien baby. She begged him to take her home, but he refused. So she went to the village elders.”

“Did they help her?” The hesitation in his tone told her he already knew the answer.

“To a very small degree. They moved her into her own cottage, away from my father. As you said, they’re militant about bloodlines and she was carrying a Tandori baby. They told her the guards who followed her around were to ensure my father stayed away, but she knew better. They had no intention of letting her go.”

He nodded, but compassion warmed his gaze. “Did you grow up in the village? What happened to your mother?”

She shrugged, feeling anything but indifferent. “Staying there until after I was born made sense. Their healers were better equipped to deal with any prenatal complications than human doctors, so she just hung out.”

“And after you were born?” An odd intensity smoldered in his dark eyes. He looked angry, but she didn’t understand his reaction. Who was the target of his ire, her mother or Tandori Tribe?

“She’d convinced one of her guards to help her escape. He felt sorry for her, and had never liked my father, so he was happy to assist her.”

After a tense pause, he asked, “Did your father come after her?”

“He tried, but she knew how to find the village. She threatened to bring the media, and all the government agencies that might be interested in an alien settlement, right to his front door. A few months later the guard left her a message explaining that my father had been killed in a hunting accident and the elders decided she was more trouble than she was worth.”

“I’m sorry she was treated so badly by Tandori Tribe.”

His sudden desire to distance himself from them irritated. A few minutes before, he’d been defending their way of life. “She intended to pretend none of it ever happened and rear me as human, but…” She looked away from his handsome face, unsure she wanted to share the rest.

“Your abilities made it impossible?”

Her gaze snapped back to his. Was he guessing? “What makes you think I have abilities?”

“Most members of Tandori Tribe do. Besides, I can’t sense you and that only happens with other empaths.”

“I’m surprised that happened. My empathy is minimal.”

“What is your primary talent?”

His tone and expression were so casual, so nonjudgmental, it felt natural to answer. “It’s a form of clairvoyance and I occasionally have prophetic impressions and dreams. The Tandori call me a Sensitive.”

“I’m not familiar with the term.”

It wasn’t surprising. Tandori Tribe was notoriously secretive. “When I touch someone, I perceive random thoughts and images. This can also happen when I enter a room or touch an object. I call them psychic echoes. I’m able to control it now, but it was terrifying when it first started.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve.” She looked past him as memories tugged at her mind. She unscrewed the water bottle’s cap, then screwed it back on. “I was so scared. I honestly thought I was going crazy. Then Mom told me about my father and I thought she was crazy.” She shook her head and returned her gaze to him. “It took a summer at Stargazer Ranch before I believed what she’d told me. Rachel and her staff were wonderful, so patient and kind.”

“I’ve never been there, but I’ve read about ‘the awakenings’.” Most Tandori children believed they were human and were only told the truth when they went through puberty or were ready to find a mate. “It must have been so strange to find out your entire childhood was…”

“A lie? Yeah, I barely spoke to my mother for several months afterward. I was angry and confused. My entire concept of reality had changed so dramatically that I barely recognized myself. And as any teenager would, I blamed it all on my parents.”

“Are you close now?”

How was he doing this? She never talked about herself, hadn’t told her closest friend half the things she was telling him. But he didn’t want to be her friend. He wanted to form a mating bond and spend the rest of his life by her side. Already the idea was becoming more intriguing. “She never married and I’m her only child, so our reconciliation was inevitable. We’re very close now.” She’d finished the water, so she set the bottle aside. “We still live in the same house and I don’t see that changing.”

A slow, sexy smile parted his lips and melted her insides, making her squirm. “Is that a challenge?”

Rather than taking the bait, she changed the subject. “Now you know all my secrets, are you going to tell me yours?”