Shalia's Diary Book 12 by Tracy St. John (3)

 

“If my son had raised his hand to me, he would have gotten it back broken.”

 

“I knew it too,” Larten laughed as he looked at his mother with unguarded affection. “I have every intention of raising Anrel to be as strong.”

 

No wonder he’d never been threatened by my need to learn to fight. His mother had taught him well.

 

I still had romance in mind when we retired for the night, but I was curious to ask Larten a few more questions. “Did you feel you missed out because you didn’t go to training camp?”

 

“Not really. Dramoks and Imdikos don’t go to them, and no one questions that.”

 

“I thought it was a law that Nobek boys had to go.”

 

“It’s usually safer for everyone,” Larten chuckled as he shoved Cifa to make room on the hand-sewn quilt that covered the sleeping mat. “My breed is destructive as hell until we get a handle on ourselves. In families who aren’t as tough and self-reliant as mine, it can be dangerous. In my case, any of my parents could have beaten me simple.”

 

“Iramas?” I tried to imagine the mellow Imdiko going toe to toe with Larten and winning.

 

Seot and Cifa joined Larten in laughing at my disbelief. “Didn’t we mention not to let his easy nature fool you?” my Dramok snickered, sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed.

 

“Remember when that bull ronka charged him when he was trying to keep him from that heifer?” Cifa’s eyes were wide with some remembered event.

 

“Damned near broke the poor beast’s leg.” Larten shook his head, his face glowing with pride. “As that poor bull limped away from him, Iramas turned to us and said, ‘I believe the lover is rethinking romance.’”

 

The guys had to smother their laughter, so as not to wake Anrel in the next room. I laughed because Larten imitated his father’s lazy tone so damned perfectly. I’m not quite buying Iramas taking out a ronka though.

 

Larten finished answering my question about playing hooky from training camp. “Growing up on Lobam, especially in this isolated area, the rules aren’t ironclad. As long as I didn’t send anyone to the hospital or the morgue, the authorities were satisfied I was being handled appropriately.”

 

“Were you lonely without other boys to train with?”

 

“There were a couple other boys, both Dramoks, in the vicinity. We got together when chores allowed. They were brothers to me. I stay in contact with them.”

 

I eyed Seot. “Oh? Your Nobek speaks to other Dramoks? Where is that famous jealousy of yours?”

 

He snorted. “Alive and well, but as Larten said, they’re like brothers to him. I deal with it, as I will deal with your continued friendship with Betra and Oses.”

 

“Nice to know you can be a big man about these things,” I teased.

 

“Don’t push me.”

 

Ha. I planned to push him, but in a different realm altogether. I started to strip, baring myself for my clan without looking at them. I pulled my blouse off over my head and stretched luxuriously as I let it drift to the floor. “So tired,” I sighed. “Such an emotional day, and I barely slept a wink last night.” I bent to pull my shoes off, my ass thrust in my mates’ direction. “I can’t imagine a single thing that would keep me awake for another second.”

 

“Uh huh.” I think it was Cifa who spoke disbelievingly, but due to the growly sound of the voice, I couldn’t be sure.

 

I straightened, just to thrust my rear at them again as I slid my skirt down my legs. “Really, really exhausted.” I kicked the skirt away and smoothed my palms over my panty-clad butt as I stood up straight once more. “I can’t keep my eyes open.”

 

I unhooked my bra, with my back to the guys. I gave a little shimmy as I shook the straps down my arms and let it fall. I moaned, rubbing my breasts. “Oh, that feels better. Now where did I put my nightie? Did I remember to pack it?”

 

Those questions might never be answered. I’d barely finished asking them when I found myself surrounded by three eager men, bent on making me forget silly concerns such as sleepwear.

 

I wasn’t certain who was kissing me where in those first moments. Mouths, teeth, and hands claimed my flesh, overwhelming me. I’m as doubtful as to when I was taken from my spot in the middle of the room to the mat, tossed down and drowning in a sensual attack.

 

For once, Seot was not about finesse. Cifa didn’t bother with careful but exacting play. Larten was himself, and they were like him. I confess, I was too. We were ravenous beasts, grabbing at each other.

 

I don’t know if it was relief that we were free of Nang’s stalking. I don’t know if it was pent-up rage that we’d been placed in the awful position of having to hide. Or maybe it was desperate comfort we pursued, the security of being safe and together. Maybe it was everything and more.

 

At any rate, I was mauled as I tore at the men’s clothes. Already naked, I had only panties to be shredded, which they were before I got to the bed. The lone thing on my mind was filling myself with Seot, Cifa, and Larten; my clan, my loves, my all.

 

I didn’t have to wait long. Seot yanked me from the other two, flipping me over on my stomach. He grabbed me from behind, pulling so that my knees bent beneath me, raising my ass. He grasped my hips, wedging his thighs between mine, getting me in position. The wet tip of his primary burrowed into my ass.

 

“I don’t know what you’re wearing, but you smell divine,” he snarled in an animal’s voice. “It’s been driving me crazy all night.”

 

Note to self: find out what is in Clan Denkar’s homemade soap. My Dramok loves it.

 

He ground into me, making me accept his thick shaft from behind. I muffled my cries in the mat, not wanting to wake Anrel. I damned sure didn’t want Larten’s parents to hear me. I beat my fists against the soft surface as Seot pushed deep inside my ass. It was the kind of glorious hurt I loved best. The kind of control I preferred wielded over me the most.

 

My other lovers weren’t about to be left out. No sooner did Seot’s full length claim me when rough hands pushed me up so that my back pressed to his chest. Larten knelt before me, and Cifa stood over us on one side. I had no chance to figure out what was going to happen before it did.

 

My Imdiko moved close, thrusting towards my face. My mouth gaped open, gasping from the torrid shock and excitement of our almost violent encounter. Cifa took advantage of that, pushing his larger cock between my lips with the same demand Seot had made of my ass. It was through more sheer luck than finesse that I swallowed at the right moment, because he went down my throat without a second’s hesitation.

 

Meanwhile, Larten worked to get his main shaft into my pussy, groaning when he slid home. I found the breath to cry out as his and Seot’s combined girths filled me to bursting. Fortunately, a mouth full of dick kept me from being loud.

 

Ancestors and prophets, it wasn’t a pretty fuck. I’m not positive what we did was acceptable for most clans. We rutted, pure and simple. I was buffeted from all angles by my clanmates, the center of our desperate storm. They demanded gratification, thrusting in me, pounding against me, fucking and fucking and fucking. I was no more sweetness and light than they were. I pulled hard on Cifa’s secondary, pinched and twisted Larten’s nipples to hear him growl, scored whatever flesh I could reach on any of the three with my nails. We weren’t angry with each other, but that first round was definitely anger sex. Larten and I had tried to relieve that tension days before, but we’d only bled the worst of the pressure off. The fires had continued to burn, and now our safety valves were blown off.

 

I jerked and jolted between the men as they shoved into me. It was like being caught simultaneously in a tornado, an earthquake, and a hurricane. I loved it. I thought lightning bolts must have been flashing from my fingers, my toes, everywhere. The explosions of passion were too numerous to count, all leading to the big finale, looming ever closer. If my mouth hadn’t have been fucked, I would have screamed for more and harder. So what if it had ended in a trip to the hospital? I was crazed with the urge to be demolished.

 

Higher and higher I climbed, my pussy, ass, and mouth clutching at the cocks filling them. Pulling on them, demanding they serve me, fulfill me, make me come.

 

Excitement surged, the pressure building in my pussy, swelling tight. At last. Climax was there, requiring just another couple of thrusts, just another few seconds. A flash. An instant of silence. Then a huge roaring, with an abrupt blaze of sensation, thundering through my sex, blasting up my spine and down my arms and legs, streaking through my brain.

 

Mighty heaves followed the ignition, rushing through me. I hung on, riding the swells fed by the heat streaming in my ass and pussy, devouring the sweet pulses of spicy masculine release flooding my mouth. I came and I came, the maddened fury of the last few days at last bleeding away with each rush of passion. I emptied of the helpless anger and filled with serenity.

 

I suppose it must have been the same for my beloveds. The love we made after that initial desperate encounter was more of a careful healing, now that we’d vented the poison that had injected itself into our lives. We emerged the next morning scratched, bruised, and sore—especially the men—but whole once more. The fractures Nang had inflicted on us had been mended. No, they had been more than fixed. I feel we are stronger than ever, a united front ready to stand against any storm and not fall.

 

He cannot touch us, not in any way that matters.

 

 

April 8, part 1

 

What a morning, complete with epiphany. But hey, I should have known. I guess I’ve been too busy to think, which has been perfectly fine with me. While life with Larten’s parents would hardly be any Earther’s idea of a real vacation—the kind where you sit back and take it easy—I’ve had a nice respite from my own brain.

 

We work hard to maintain the homestead. We’ve been here nearly a week—that’s a Kalquorian ten-day week—and the labor is nonstop. How does Clan Denkar sustain the home when they don’t have the four extra adults to help (sometimes six, when Hatzeg and Tiron aren’t fighting to keep that iffy security field of theirs up and running)? Feeding the animals, cleaning their stalls, cleaning the yard where they’ve left steaming deliveries, mulching the garden, constantly chasing after an active infant-turning-toddler, the eternal repairs that come with mechanisms that feature used parts from every decade since God was a boy—that’s just scratching the surface. It’s nonstop from the moment we wake until we go to bed.

 

Even then, it’s nonstop, thanks to three amorous mates. Jeez, it’s a wonder I can put my legs together with all the loving. It turns out there’s a reason for that.

 

I might still be oblivious if Gilsa hadn’t cornered me after breakfast. The guys were hanging on me until she ordered them out to work.

 

“The part we need for the shuttle isn’t in yet,” Larten protested, snuggling against me as if I hadn’t had only four hours of sleep because of him and the other two…for the last five nights in a row.

 

“Then work on the heating element for the house. It will require all you men to muscle the replacement up onto the roof. I’ll use you while you’re here.” Gilsa glared at my orbiting clanmates. Then she glared at her own fellows, who were acting pretty cozy with her as well.

 

There was plenty of grumbling as the six of them trooped out, but nobody messes with Gilsa when she’s made her mind up. She’s my hero.

 

As soon as the door shut behind our amorous mates, I snickered. “Hard work makes for hard men, doesn’t it?”

 

Gilsa eyed me. “You haven’t got a clue, do you?”

 

“About what?”

 

She shook her head. “When you were pregnant with Anrel, did you put out a scent? Because you sure as hell have been almost from the moment you landed here, and it’s getting stronger. I had to look it up on the database to figure out what was happening.”

 

My mouth dropped open. “I’m pregnant.” Well, I’d realized I might be, but I’d been too busy running from Nang and then playing homesteader to consider it lately. I’d also forgotten that I’d carried an irresistible aroma with Anrel. “Well, hell. Sorry about that, Gilsa.”

 

“Oh, I don’t mind. Much. I could use a night off from reaping the benefits of you invigorating my clanmates, however.”

 

I slapped my palm against my forehead. “Ugh. How embarrassing.”

 

“Don’t be. I am worried about you not taking many breaks for yourself, though.”

 

I flapped my hands dismissively. “I’m not the delicate flower our men make pregnant women out to be.”

 

Gilsa chuckled. “No, thank the ancestors. But you haven’t had a moment’s peace either, have you? Either you’re helping us—which I appreciate, believe you me! Or you’re taking care of Anrel. Or your clan, if I don’t miss my guess.” She patted my shoulder. “Shalia, I sneak off for a couple of hours at least every few days to collect myself. You need some alone time as well.”

 

I thought about what she said. That’s when it finally, really hit me. Ancestors and prophets, I am so dense.

 

“Shit. I’m pregnant. With my clan’s child.” The room rocked. I was going to give Clan Seot a baby.

 

“Sit down before you collapse,” Gilsa shoved me onto a chair. “A bit of a shock?”

 

“I’ve suspected, but I didn’t know for certain. For heaven’s sake, who sucked all the air out of the room?” I couldn’t catch my breath. My brain reeling, I stood up. “I have to tell them!”

 

“You have to get a grip.” Gilsa pointed to the chair. “Down. Now.”

 

She was right. Seot, Cifa, and Larten wouldn’t be able to enjoy the news if I was staggering and fainting all over the place. I sat and concentrated on not hyperventilating. On coming to terms with the future.

 

“Hey, no morning sickness yet,” I said after a few seconds of pulling myself together.

 

“Must be an Imdiko boy. Everyone says those are the easiest pregnancies,” Gilsa said. She winked. “What you’d call an old Mataras’ tale, I think.”

 

“Anrel wasn’t bad. A few queasy weeks, and I was able to eat anything that would hold still long enough for me to do so. Which breed do those old wives say causes the worst morning sickness?”

 

“Dramoks, because they want you to understand they’re there and in charge.” Gilsa laughed. “My mother swore up and down Larten would be one, because he had me retching my guts out all day, for six weeks straight.”

 

“Ugh. Well, as long as it’s healthy. Though Anrel could use a sister to share the limelight with.”

 

“You got lucky with this baby.” Gilsa blew a kiss at Anrel. She’d glanced up when I spoke her name. She sat on the floor, chewing on her stuffed animals. “For all the doting she receives, she only turns demanding when cookies and cake show up.”

 

“And when Larten is in the room and he’s not looking at her.” She continued with her ‘Nobek-Daddy-is-the-best-parent’ phase.

 

“She does love him.” Gilsa beamed to be the mother of the favorite.

 

I was calming down. Thumps overhead told me the guys were on the roof, working on the heating system. “Well, I’m not telling them now. I don’t need the whole bunch falling off the top of the house.”

 

“No, you need to grab that alone time I was discussing. Right now. Those men won’t let you out of their sight the moment they find out you’re expecting.”

 

I could see her point. Kalquorian males do tend to be overprotective of a pregnant woman. “Thank goodness we’re in the honeymoon mindset, or I’d probably go nuts from the smothering that’s about to commence. Where’s my secret hideout?” The idea of a couple of hours to myself, to absorb the news, had gained extra attraction.

 

“You saw the trail behind the scrap metal piles?” Gilsa waved her hand towards the rear of the house.

 

She referred to the mountains of parts from defunct machinery that the clan kept and repurposed when the need came up. I had spotted the trail that led into the woods behind the clearing. Larten had said it was a nice nature trail that we would explore when we had the chance. Unfortunately, we never got a break to do so.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Walk it. Wear something you don’t mind getting wet in, because at the end of the path is the perfect place to soak your cares away. Anrel and I will chase pilchok because she loves it, then I’ll give her a bath. You’ll come back to clean baby, lunch, and the big news for your family. I’ll bake some sweetcakes for the occasion.”

 

I wasn’t about to say no to all that. By the time I returned, I’d be over my initial shock and ready to surprise the guys.

 

 

April 8, part 2

 

Gilsa is a brilliant woman. While I am here, I will adopt her policy of taking an hour or so every few days for myself.

 

I left her and Anrel shrieking with laughter as my little girl chased the pilchok flock across the yard. If the glee on Anrel’s face wasn’t worth hysterics…and how her chubby bowlegs jiggle as she waddles as fast as she can…being loud was advisable anyway. The guys were struggling to fix that heating unit, which was sitting in five huge pieces on the roof of the house. In between Gilsa and Anrel’s howls of laughter, I caught some pretty foul language drifting from on high. The expressions were thunderous to match. I figured it was just as well I was sneaking off. Nobody looked in a good mood for pregnancy news. Hopefully, they’ll have things working and be in better spirits when I return.

 

I struck off, passing the scrap metal pile and on the well-marked trail through the woods. The striped trunks and glorious foliage closed in around me. When the raucous laughter and yells faded, it was like being the only person on Lobam. Such peace!

 

I took my time. Gilsa had estimated I would get to the pond or lake or spring in about twenty minutes. She hadn’t been terribly specific about where I would end up. That was fine. I had three hours until I was due to return. I wore a soaksuit and a light poncho to cover up in, along with my rugged shoes. Not the cutest ensemble, but I would have the place to myself, since I wasn’t leaving Clan Denkar’s lands. I brought along a tote in which Gilsa had tossed some baked vegetable chips for snacking, plenty of water to drink, and my handheld. I wouldn’t have a signal to com or message anyone from where I was headed, but I could access my library if I chose to read while I relaxed.

 

Smaller mammals chattered in the woods. Some insects buzzed in the underbrush. Those were the only sounds besides my footfalls keeping me company as I wound through the trees. It was warm, but not overly so because of the bronze, copper, and gold leaves that shadowed most of the path.

 

Only me, all by my lonesome. I could feel my brain settling, my mind going still as I wandered. I regretted that the trail wasn’t longer. I could have hiked forever in that calming silence.

 

Of course, I thought about the coming child. Anrel would have a sibling close to her age. So long as I kept clear of weaponized jewelry, I’d be conscious for this one’s birth. I chuckled to myself about that.

 

My schedule was packed to the gills, but a second child couldn’t be much extra work. I had a huge support network, from my doting clanmates to a veritable army of babysitters. And if I ended up overloaded…well, I was in contact with Imdiko Snoy, manny extraordinaire.

 

It would work out. People have raised multiple children while pursuing careers with far less help. My momentary anxiety fled as I reassured myself.

 

The roar of water nearby took me out of my nervous ruminations. The trail was widening out. I was close to Gilsa’s secret spot of serenity.

 

It was spectacular. I stepped out of the woods to a clearing of lush purple grasses. In the middle was a basin, fed by a small waterfall. It fed a tumbling brook in turn, which wound through the trees on the side opposite from where I’d emerged.

 

It was a small pool, but more than enough for me. I decided I had to bring Anrel out here at some point. My water baby would enjoy it for hours on end and want more.

 

I hurried to the pond’s edge. I pulled off my shoes, socks, and coverup. I waded into the cool water, sighing with pleasure. It’s such a perfect spot.

 

I swam for a little while, enjoying physical activity that was purely for recreation instead of keeping a homestead in operating order. My only companions were the insects with colorful wings that flew about, and a shy, catlike edash that watched me worriedly as it scooped tiny swimming amphibians from the pool. I kept my distance, not wanting to scare off the adorable critter with its lavender fur.

 

When I tired, I returned to my pack. The exercise and warm sun combined to sap the will to do anything but lie on the soft grass and close my eyes.

 

I woke with a few minutes to have a snack and another swim. My edash friend must have finished his meal, because he is nowhere to be seen. It’s time for me to troop to the house, have dinner, and make the announcement to my sweethearts.

 

Though I spent most of my getaway catching up on lost sleep, it’s done the trick. I’m looking forward to sharing the happy news of our impending next round of parenthood. I hope they’re as excited as I am. And I’m glad I get to tell Larten’s parents too. This is going to be a celebration.

 

 

April 8, part 3 (recorded later)

 

The trip from Gilsa’s waterfall started off as enjoyable as the rest of my break had been. Anticipating telling my clanmates they were about to welcome a new bundle of joy, I practically skipped down the winding trail. My mind was filled with plans of getting ready for Baby Number Two.

 

I guess I was about halfway to the house when I heard movement within the trees. Something bigger than an edash. Those weren’t twigs crackling underfoot of a creature that stood no more than knee-high on all four legs. Those were thick branches breaking. I stopped and glanced around. The noises halted.

 

I’d been told that no creature larger than the edash had been in these parts for years. Despite being carnivores, the critters were too shy to approach anything more than half their own size. They hunted alone, rather than in packs.

 

There were reptiles and some venomous insects to watch out for, but nothing large enough to have made those noises. I wondered if my clanmates had spied me leaving or if Gilsa had sent them after me. Maybe one of our bodyguards was patrolling.

 

I couldn’t call out, however. My overactive imagination shut me up. After almost a week of being free of Nang’s presence, I was on alert all over again. Man, he had messed with my head. There was no reason to think he’d followed us to Lobam, not when our home on Kalquor showed all evidence that we were there. We were a couple of days from having it revealed that we’d left.

 

I didn’t move. My ears strained. Silence.

 

After a minute, I resumed my journey towards Clan Denkar’s home. I moved faster, while trying to be quiet. I listened. Nothing stirred, yet the hair on the back of my neck stood up. All my primitive instincts told me to run. I held them off, chiding myself for the urge to panic.

 

Then a dark figure moved deep within the trees to my right, about ten yards off. I had only the most fleeting image of it moving in my direction before my legs went into a full-tilt gallop down the trail.

 

Brown fur. Two-legged. Maybe seven feet tall. Massive tusks. Everything else was a blur as I raced along the curves of the path, my pack bouncing hard against my spine.

 

It was a nightmare. The creature ran parallel to me, coming closer bit by bit, angling as if to cut me off. It voiced weird hooting and cackling, which rang like a lunatic’s laughter. Part of my brain screamed at me to stop using the trail, that I’d reach the homestead faster if I cut straight through the woods. The trouble was, the path twisted so much that I wasn’t positive a straight route would take me to my clan and safety. That, plus I did not want to get lost in the trees with that thing.

 

It was the stuff nightmares are made of, the endless running with a huge mysterious creature coming at me, screeching its terrible sound. Not knowing if I’d make it to safety before it got me. Not knowing what it would do to me once it caught me.

 

I swore I could feel its hot breath on my neck when at last, the trees thinned and a mountain of scrap machinery appeared before me. I shot out of the woods into the clearing surrounding Clan Denkar’s home, shrieking at the top of my lungs for help. As I did so, I thought, now is when it grabs me and snatches me into the trees, never to be seen again.

 

Nothing yanked me to an awful end, however. I was halfway across the clearing to the house when all eight men burst out, blurring as they cleared the doorway to reach me. Gilsa came hauling ass from the front of the house at the same time.

 

It took a few seconds before their excited jabbering lessened so I could explain what I’d run from. “Tall—shaggy fur,” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “Giant—tusks! Huge! Coming—after—me!”

 

While I struggled to breathe and talk, I jerked to and fro, trying to see around Hatzeg and Tiron, whose oversized bulks were between me and the woods.

 

I was shocked when Larten and Barun whooped with excitement. “A thamom! Practically in the backyard!” Larten grabbed his mother’s hands and kissed them with a pleading look. “Lunch can be delayed, can’t it? Just an hour?”

 

“Oh, go on. But no more than an hour!” Gilsa yelled as they bolted to the barn, howling with excitement. Except Iramas, who was roused enough to trot in their wake, his features stretched in a grin. Gilsa kept yelling, “If you haven’t caught it by then, you’re hopeless as hunters, and I don’t know any of you.”

 

I stared after them, stunned that my brush with Certain Death had been met with no petting, no horror, and all the glee of boys on a glorious adventure. “What the hell?”

 

“The thamom hasn’t been here for the last decade. Its migratory path changed when it stripped the area of the idars roots it eats.” Gilsa pulled a face. “Destructive animal, the thamom. It’s a blessing and a curse to have them in the area. Their hides provide wonderful insulation for the house. We store our supply in the area over the shuttle. We’re down to our final dozen from the last time they moved through here, so I’m a little glad they’re shifting this way again. But I’ll have to warn the district to gather up all the idars we can find before they clean us out.”

 

The menfolk dashed out of the barn, all eight brandishing—ancestors save me—clubs and spears. Homemade, no doubt repurposed from the metal junkpile and heaven knew what else.

 

“We’ll be back soon!” Denkar shouted as they hurried into the woods, needing only fur loincloths to look like Neanderthals. Apparently, the thamom could furnish those nicely.

 

“I suppose the one I saw is no match for four Nobeks, two Dramoks, and two Imdikos.” I would have felt sorry for the beast had it not scared the shit out of me. “Even with its size and those tusks.”

 

Gilsa waved me off. “Oh, you weren’t in any danger, Shalia. Thamom make a production out of defending their path, but they’re only dangerous when cornered. If you’d turned on it and acted as if you were attacking, it would have run from you. It would have run from Anrel, for that matter.” Gilsa groaned and hurried towards the house. “The cakes! I forgot all about them, and I doubt those men didn’t watch the time. Go grab Anrel. She’s napping on the front porch.”

 

My face heated to hear I’d run screaming from something that was all bark and no bite. For heaven’s sake, what a big baby I must have seemed. But nobody had warned me. Sheesh. What was I supposed to think with a monstrous, tusked creature chasing after me?

 

I was embarrassed enough to not go through the house to fetch Anrel on the porch on the other side. I was sure Gilsa needed a few private moments to laugh at me. I jogged to the front.

 

As I rounded the corner, I saw the mat that we often set out for her to nap on. With a push of a button, it sent up a containment field four feet high to keep her from wandering off. Anrel wasn’t on it. Only her now-beloved stuffed kestarsh, given to her by Breft, lay on the mat.

 

Gilsa found her cakes safe and sound and came out here to get her ahead of me, I thought. I started for the door to join them.

 

I stopped short when I heard Anrel crying. Not from inside the house. Not from there on the porch. Somewhere distant.

 

“Anrel?”

 

Instinct took hold, and I went running, following the unhappy wails of my child. Around the side of the house, opposite from the direction I’d come. In the barnlike structure where the shuttle was kept. No, not in it. Behind it. I sprinted as fast as I could go, terrified that maybe the thamom wasn’t so fearful of people after all.

 

I skidded behind the barn, Anrel’s name on my lips, ready to deal with whatever I discovered in a violent manner. Well, almost ready.

 

He sat there on a stump, bouncing the baby on his knee, crooning to her with a huge smile. For an instant, my knees turned to water. It was Nang. He’d found us.

 

He had Anrel.

 

He gazed up at me with delight, as if expecting to be greeted with open arms. “Look, precious. Here’s your mother. Now we’re finally together as a happy family.”

 

Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline that made it hideously clear. Nang’s beaming face, filled with celebration. Anrel’s tear-streaked cheeks, though she stopped crying as her purple eyes riveted on me. She smiled too. I was there, so everything had to be okay. Except it wasn’t.

 

A pile of brown fur lay in a heap at Nang’s feet. The hide of an animal with tusks. A thamom skin.

 

Their hides provide wonderful insulation for the house. We store our supply in the area over the shuttle. Apparently, Nang had discovered them and used one to scare me and entice my protectors to hunt for a nuisance animal that was as prized as it was reviled. Leaving me and Anrel without guards.

 

How long had he been here, watching us? A day? Two? Since we got here?

 

I stared at him. I’d forgotten what a large man Nang was. He’d lost weight, leaving his eyes hollowed, his body gaunt. But still, much bigger than me, at least as tall as Oses. A behemoth in comparison to Anrel. His hand cupped the back of her head and neck, supporting her. How easily he could do harm to my little girl who stared trustingly up me, her mother who would make it all right.

 

Unless I couldn’t. I had no idea what to do with him holding my child hostage, except beg.

 

“Give her to me, Nang,” I said, in as calm a voice I could muster. “Give me my baby.”

 

“Our baby,” he corrected. “The first of many. You do want a lot of children, don’t you?”

 

I tried to come up with an argument that would convince him to give Anrel up. “She’s not yours. Her father is Dusa. They did a genetic anomaly test to confirm it.”

 

One side of his mouth curled up. Naughty Shalia, I heard in my memories. He’d called me that often. And what would happen after that—my stomach twisted.

 

“None of the potential sires had anything to suggest a genetic matching test was required. I saw the reports. I had access to them until I left Earth.”

 

“Then you don’t know for certain that she’s your daughter.”

 

“I know in my heart.” His certainty was chilling. He couldn’t be convinced.

 

I had to try anyway. At the very least, I could delay whatever he had in mind until my clan and security guards returned. “A Kalquorian child’s fathers are not determined by biology. I have a clan; therefore, Anrel is their child. Not yours.”

 

“You and she will never be theirs!” Nang half-rose from his stump. I thought his hands tightened on Anrel, and I readied to spring, to try to wrench her from him before he could hurt her.

 

But he settled down almost immediately, his expression going from red-faced rage to calm certainty once more. “I’ve gone through too much to give you up to others. We were meant to be together. You’ll see. After a little while, you’ll understand.”

 

“Nang, listen to me,” I said, inching closer, looking for some opening that would allow me to save Anrel. “Where can we go where we won’t be hunted down? You were smarter than anyone gave you credit for. You made it to Kalquor. You found me and Anrel. You figured out we came here, outsmarting some pretty crafty guys in Global Security.”

 

“I did, didn’t I? They underestimated how overpowering love can be. How it can inspire a man to claim what is his.” Nang beamed with pride.

 

“Running off with a baby is another matter. Kalquorian babies are few, and you won’t be able to slip away with this one. You need to stop and think about what’s real and what’s fantasy, Nang.”

 

“But you’ll tell them you and she belong with me.” Nang’s assuredness was dumbfounding in its solidity. “We had something special before you met this Clan Seot. No one can fault you for giving them up and returning to me.” He barked a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. “You should have never left Earth. I should have stopped you. I was a fool to let those boys and that asshole doctor come between us.”

 

My temper boiled at his reference to Nayun. The only reason Nang wasn’t picking his teeth up off the ground was because he had Anrel.

 

I settled for, “Watch your mouth in my child’s presence. I don’t tolerate filthy language around her.”

 

He finally appeared chagrined. “Oh, you’re right. Sorry, my lady.” He kissed her ears. Anrel giggled and stared at him, the strange man who had woken her from her nap and tickled her ears.

 

I tried again. “Give me my child.”

 

“Our child.” The cool way he said it told me Nang was getting irritated with my insistence he had nothing to do with her.

 

“Whatever. I want her.”

 

“Good.” Nang stood and cuddled her close. “You’ll have no problem following us to my shuttle then.” He started off, walking towards the woods, carrying Anrel away.

 

My heart jolted. “Nang—”

 

A blurred figure shot from around the corner and halted next to him. Nang froze as Gilsa pressed the barrel of a pulse rifle between his eyes.

 

“Take the baby, Shalia,” she spat, her expression deadlier than any Nobek’s I’d ever seen. There wasn’t the slightest tremor as she held the weapon on Nang. “Move a fucking inch, hurt either of them, and I will blast you straight to the ancestors, gurluck,” she snarled at him. “And I do not apologize for my language.”

 

I didn’t question Gilsa for a second. I raced to grab Anrel, sure Nang would snap her neck, or drop her to snap mine. But I went, knowing this was my chance to win my child from him.

 

Maybe in the midst of his madness, he saw he had no chance against Gilsa. I admit, I think I peed myself a little at her glare, and it wasn’t trained at me. I was positive she’d kill him. Positive.

 

I believe with all my heart she would have, had Anrel not been there. The baby’s wide-eyed presence was the only thing that kept Nang alive after I grabbed her and jerked away to stand behind my mother-in-law.

 

“Into the shuttle. Start it up. Hurry,” Gilsa commanded me.

 

I went. Gilsa backed off from Nang, following me with the pulse rifle aimed at his head the whole while. He watched her, and as much as her look had scared me, his was almost as bad. Nang was too cautious to challenge her, but the predatory expression he wore said he waited for Gilsa to make a mistake. If she did, it would be her last.

 

I’ve had some pretty fucked-up moments in my life. Maybe a few that were worse than that one. But it ranked up there. No doubt about that.

 

Keeping an eye on them both, I raced to the barn, threw the doors open wide, and jumped into the shuttle. The hatch was wide open, left that way from the guys working on it. I swung into the pilot’s seat and sat Anrel on my lap. I powered it up, swearing under my breath as the engine spluttered. “Don’t you dare act up now. You will run well enough to fly us out of here,” I snarled at the vessel.

 

It smoothed out…in time for me to hear the distinctive zip of the pulse rifle go off twice.

 

I had an image of Gilsa killing Nang. Another image of Nang grabbing the rifle and killing Gilsa. Of them wrestling for the rifle and it going off as they fought.

 

My awful choices narrowed as Gilsa raced into the barn, holding the rifle. She lunged into the shuttle and grabbed Anrel, plopping into the co-pilot’s seat and yanking the safety harness on. “Go! Go!”

 

“Did you kill him?” I babbled as I sent us out of the shelter at a speed I shouldn’t have. But fuck it. Anrel was secured, and the fact Gilsa was screaming at me to go told me Nang was out there and alive and able to do some damage. We flew into the air, the craft listing drunkenly as I fought to avoid the house. I straightened it out and flew in the general direction Gilsa pointed me to.

 

“He’s alive. I shot into the air to alert our clans. Scared the shit out of him when I did.” Gilsa laughed breathlessly. “He took off into the woods, but it wasn’t a good idea to stick around for him to come back.”

 

“He’s got a shuttle close by,” I said.

 

“I heard him trying to lead you to it. I was hoping he’d give me an opening to get Anrel from him.”

 

“Should we search for him?”

 

“No, fly for town instead. There is no telling how far away our men are, and we need to be near witnesses in case that Dramok decides to follow us. Plus, it’s the only area with enough signal to reliably reach law enforcement in a hurry.” She had her com out, trying to call for help at the same time she fiddled with the shuttle’s communications system. “Nothing.”

 

The engine coughed. “Don’t pull this shit,” I muttered to the shuttle. As if to answer, it coughed again and sputtered. There was a grinding I hadn’t heard from it before, which grew louder with each passing second.

 

“Better put us down near the ground, Shalia,” Gilsa advised me. “Just in case. I wish we’d had the parts to repair the shuttle before this happened.”

 

I had an unwelcome thought. “You’re good with mechanics. Check the gauges. Nang pulled a thamom skin out of your supply. He might have screwed with more than a costume.”

 

“Crap.” Gilsa peered at the readouts, tapped a few buttons, and frowned. “The bucket is running too hot. And it’s getting hotter fast.”

 

“How far to town?”

 

“Four more minutes flight. Twenty miles on foot.”

 

The engine went dead for a couple of seconds before blatting back to life. I smelled smoke, and red indicators came on. The ship lurched, and an alarm went off. “We’re not going to make it.”

 

“No. Better set us down before we crash. Let me help.”

 

Letting the harness keep Anrel in place, Gilsa’s hands flew over the panel in symphony with mine as we coaxed the screeching, coughing vessel down to a wide path. The trail accommodated large hover carts, which were used to transport timber from the area to the local shuttle port. I’d been following it since I knew it would take us straight into town.

 

Our landing wasn’t smooth. It wasn’t gentle. We jerked in our seats, which Anrel fortunately found hilarious. But we set it down on the trail without causing more damage than Nang had already done.

 

Gilsa and I glanced at each other. We were sitting ducks if my stalker had decided to chase after us rather than go into hiding again. Considering the son of a bitch had made the effort he had, I was pretty certain I knew the answer to that one. Gilsa’s expression said she’d arrived at that same conclusion.

 

We tried to com our clans and my bodyguards. No reception. We left messages for when the signal strengthened where it would transmit. Then Gilsa released her harness, handing Anrel off to me and grabbing the pulse rifle. “We’re closer to the house. We’ll run for there through the woods, where we’ll be harder to trace.”

 

I followed her outside. We both searched the skies right away. We saw the glint of sunlight off something metallic in the sky, too distant for us to make out a shape. I didn’t need to see it, though.

 

“It’s him.” I had no doubt on that score. “And he’s flying this way.”

 

“Into the woods. Quick.” Gilsa started for the line of trees on our left.

 

“No. Take Anrel.”

 

Gilsa twisted around, her eyes wide. “Shalia—”

 

“There’s no time to argue. Take her and get home. I’ll keep Nang busy.” I kissed Anrel and thrust her towards Gilsa.

 

My mother-in-law hesitated a bare instant before grabbing my daughter. “At least take the rifle.”

 

“No.” I checked the bright spot in the sky. It had grown in the last two seconds. He was coming fast. “If I’m armed, he’ll go for the weaker target. Hurry, Gilsa. He’ll be here in less than half a minute.”

 

Gilsa glanced at the coming shuttle, rage suffusing her features before she snapped a nod. “We’ll find you, Shalia. Hold on, because we’ll be coming.”

 

“I know. Run.”

 

I could see the hint of the pointed prow of the shuttle now. It was taking shape, and I didn’t want Nang to spot the direction Gilsa went in.

 

She sped off into the dense shadow of the trees, a dark blur. Anrel’s giggles trailed behind them, dwindling in the still air. There was a sound of snapping twigs, crackling underbrush, then that was gone too. I was left alone to face Nang.

 

Anrel was safe. Gilsa too. I had a tracker embedded somewhere on my body. Seot would find me no matter what. I took heart from that. I dashed into the shuttle for a moment before coming back out.

 

I had trained for the moment when I would confront Nang. I’d dealt with plenty of trouble and won before. Maybe I could win again. I was about to find out.

 

I stepped to the rear of Clan Denkar’s shuttle and kept moving. I felt like a gunslinger, striding into the dusty street outside the saloon, readying to draw against the bad guy. High noon had arrived. I took position in the middle of the lane, where Nang couldn’t help but spy me waiting for him.

 

I’m not sure if I was being overly dramatic or not. After all, I wasn’t about to shoot or be shot, as far as I knew. I didn’t have a blaster or rifle. Hell, I didn’t have a knife on me. It was going to be hand-to-hand if I had to defend myself.

 

I attempted to ease my fears by reminding myself that Nang didn’t wish me dead. He wanted me alive. I didn’t want to kill him either. He was sick. He needed help.

 

A part of me said, thinking that will end with you killed. Darn if it didn’t sound a lot like Dramok Resan, that incredible pain in my ass. But he was right. I’d known a woman whose lover had turned obsessed. In the end, he’d been ready to kill her and her kids.

 

If you have to fight, don’t half-ass it. That was Oses. You may not get another chance to defend yourself.

 

Resan again. Take out the enemy, or save him and yourself a lot of trouble and take yourself out.

 

“All or nothing,” I muttered under my breath as the shuttle slowed. It landed a few feet in front of me.

 

I breathed deep of the muggy air, trying to calm myself as much as I could. When panic tried to rise, I’d chant in my head, Anrel is safe. Anrel is safe. Anrel is safe.

 

It was all that mattered. It was what held me in place when Nang stepped out of the shuttle to confront me.

 

Ancestors, he looked big. Memories of how he used to overwhelm me, both physically and mentally, tried to invade my skull. I chased such thoughts off with the image of him walking away from me with Anrel in his arms. No. He would not do that, no matter what.

 

He smiled at me and glanced at Clan Denkar’s crippled shuttle. “I’m sorry if you had a bumpy landing. I couldn’t take a chance on you leaving me. Where is our daughter?”

 

“My daughter, Clan Seot’s daughter, is not here. You have no claim on her or me. I am Matara Shalia of Clan Seot, and you are not welcome in our lives.”

 

His smile stuttered and fell. Growling, Nang went to the downed shuttle. He didn’t go in, where he couldn’t keep an eye on me. If I’d made a break for his craft, attempting to take it and fly out, I wouldn’t be fast enough. Not against a Kalquorian. My options were few. Either I would talk Nang out of pursuing his delusion of making us a family, or I’d delay him long enough for help to arrive.

 

I was clear which way the wind was going to blow on that. As Nang turned towards me, I shifted, blading my body as I’d been taught, to present less of a target.

 

“The woman took her.”

 

“Where she’ll be safe from you.”

 

“She doesn’t need to be kept safe from me. I’m her father.”

 

“You’re nothing to her. Her fathers are Seot, Cifa, and Larten. Her fathers—and the fathers of the child I carry.” I enunciated my next words, trying to force him to understand. “I love them. I do not love you. I never did.”

 

Nang stood there for endless seconds, staring at me. At last, the slight breeze brought me his strengthless whisper. “You lie. About the baby. About how you feel.”

 

“The only lies are the ones you’ve been telling yourself. You came here for nothing.”

 

His expression twisted, so wretched I could almost have cried for him. For an instant, my heart broke for Nang. I have never seen any living being look so desolate. I hope I never see it again.

 

The bald misery was gone as quickly as it had come. Then there was rage, the fury of a man who’d been cheated of everything he’d ever had and was bent on revenge.

 

He roared, an animal sound that must have shook the trees. He came at me, face bestial, reaching as if he’d choke me lifeless.

 

Oses had prepared me for this, when the Kalquorian quickness that blurs a man’s shape would make it difficult for me to react. We’d practiced from any number of distances so I’d be ready. Nang had started from close by, meaning he’d get to me quick. The instant his body streaked and elongated, I hefted the thick metal bar I’d hidden from Nang behind my leg, wrapped both hands around it like a baseball bat, and swung it at a point just higher than the top of my head. Nang arrived at the precise second to catch the blow full speed.

 

I’d misjudged, however. Instead of clocking against the side of his skull as I’d hoped, I hit the area beneath his ear. It was more a neck than a head blow. It wasn’t sufficient to knock him off his feet.

 

It stunned him, though. He staggered to the side, his legs bowing, as if he’d fall down after all. Fighting the instinct that made me want to hesitate and check on how hurt he was, the horror that I’d tried to cave a former lover’s skull in, I readied and swung again, trying to capitalize on my advantage.

 

Nang blocked it. He grabbed the bar and twisted it from my grasp. It was another scenario I’d trained for. I let the bar go and lunged. I put my shoulder in his stomach. His breath whooshed as he bent double.

 

I pivoted and stepped off to the side. I clenched my hands into a single fist and slammed my forearms across the back of his neck. Nang finally went down on a knee, on the side opposite me. Had it been the other, he’d have been open to a kick to the gut. Maybe things would have turned out better for me.

 

Or maybe not. People who are not in possession of all their faculties often either don’t feel an attack, or they shake it off quicker than the typical person. Such was the case with Nang. I’d surprised him and perhaps hurt him. It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

 

When he stood again, bellowing with rage, I knew I’d done all the damage I could. I needed to get the hell out of Dodge and find a decent weapon. I took off, racing for the woods on the opposite side of the lane than where Gilsa had run off with Anrel. I crashed past the tree line an instant before Nang grabbed me.

 

Furious beyond reason, he flung me. I sailed a few feet before smashing into the striped trunk of a tree. It should have hurt like hell, but I was too pumped up with adrenaline to notice pain at that point. Taking my cue from Nang, I’d left normalcy behind. It was all about the battle and finding a way to win.

 

I’d barely hit the ground when I bolted to my feet and sprinted. I didn’t bother to check on my pursuer. As I ran, I searched the ground for a rock, a tree limb, a thamom—anything to fight with. A surge of energy spiked as I spied a thick branch only a foot distant. I swooped on it and came up swinging, knowing Nang had to be right behind me.

 

He was there, all right, coming hard and fast. I hit him against the skull. An on-target bullseye, the lucky shot I’d desperately hoped for. The thunk was loud and perfect.

 

But …

 

Nang didn’t feel it. He had the adrenaline. He had the angry. He had the crazy. Then he had me.

 

I didn’t have a second to defend myself. I wasn’t even allowed to think oh shit as his fist shot at me. There was a flash of his livid face, the faster flash of huge knuckles, and more than a flash of hideous pain bolting through my skull. Then there was nothing.

 

I don’t know how long I was unconscious. Not too long, considering where we ended up. But when awareness intruded, accompanied by a vicious headache that kept my eyes closed, I had no idea if I’d been out a minute or a whole day.

 

The soft, steady hum of a shuttle engine told me I was going somewhere. I was hideously aware of what had preceded me waking up and flying to parts unknown. I never had hope that while I was taking my impromptu nap, my clan had shown up, beaten the snot out of Nang, and were heroically transporting me to a hospital where I’d find the blessing of pain inhibitor. I’m Shalia Monroe of Clan Seot, and Lady Luck pisses on me on a regular basis. I’m not on speaking terms with that bitch.

 

I knew without opening my eyes that I was on Nang’s shuttle. That he was taking me ancestors knew where. I had to figure out how to get away from him…or at the very least, survive until my implanted locator led my clan or the authorities to me. I knew they’d turn the entire Empire upside down to find me, but out here in no-signal land, it might take some doing. I had no idea how much time was left until super bad shit went down. I wanted to be alive when the troops showed up, not a corpse that they stumbled over.

 

That was my first concern: survival. Nang could kill me in a fit of rage. After how he’d charged at me, leading me to fight back, I was pretty sure that wasn’t a farfetched idea.

 

As I continued to play Sleeping Beauty, not wanting Nang to realize I was awake and figuring out what the fuck to do, I became aware that he was muttering. Maybe he’d been doing it all along, but was only now loud enough for me to hear him over the engine. Because his voice was rising. Soon, I didn’t have to strain.

 

“But you can love me. I can make you understand what I’ve given up for you. How much I’m still willing to give up for you. We can be happy. I’ll dedicate myself to you, show you you’re the center of my world, that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you. And we’ll be together forever, you and me, and no one else will ever get in the way of that.”

 

He argued his case with me supposedly in absentia, repeating the same idea over and over. It would have been sad, worthy of sympathy, if he hadn’t tried to cave my skull in with his fist. It got scarier, with his voice rising, higher-pitched, kind of weepy. As if he was trying to convince himself I would fall in love after all and failing miserably.

 

I didn’t want to know what would happen if he decided there was no hope, and therefore, no reason to live. I had the horrific vision of him crashing the shuttle into the ground, killing us both.

 

At least he didn’t have Anrel. Had he given up all hope of taking her too? It didn’t matter. Without my daughter to worry with, I could fight Nang with every resource I had. It was just him and me.

 

I had to do something about the situation, before he lost all hope and decided on a course of action that neither of us would wake up from. I knew from the direction of his voice that I faced him, lying on the floor, if the nubby fabric under my cheek was any indication. Hoping I was in the cabin behind the pilot’s seat, and that he was more intent on looking at the controls than me, I flexed my foot experimentally. Damn it, there was something circling my ankles. Now that I was regaining my faculties, I noticed pressure around my wrists as well. The binds were the right width to be hover cuffs. If that was the case, I wouldn’t be working free.

 

I carefully slit my eyes open to look at my hands, which were curled in front of me at my waist. It wasn’t the flexible metal of hover cuffs holding my wrists together, but yellow leather pilchok collars. I guess Gilsa didn’t notice them missing. But then, none of the flock she was raising was ready to sell yet. The yellow collars told buyers the birds were raised on only the highest-grade feed and allowed to range free.  Well, I certainly wasn’t free-range myself. Even the queen of re-use Gilsa hadn’t thought of using them for the purpose Nang had put them to.

 

It was better than being held by hover cuffs, but I still had to break free. If I started fussing and straining with my binds, Nang would put a stop to it before I could escape.

 

As I contemplated my next move, Nang stopped his one-sided argument with me. The sound of the engines changed as we slowed, and the shift in gravity beneath me told me the shuttle was landing. The question was, where?

 

I wouldn’t meekly go along with whatever Nang had in mind, that was for damned sure. As he set the craft down, I stopped playing possum. I rolled up so that I was sitting up on the floor. At that moment, Nang glanced at me over his shoulder. There was relief on his expression—which told me he’d worried about how hard he’d hit me. That was helpful, I hoped. He regretted having hurt me. Maybe it would keep him from any more violent reactions.

 

I couldn’t count on that, though. I didn’t trust Nang’s state of mind for an instant. Not after all he’d done to kidnap me.

 

It was a small shuttle, a little larger than my personal craft on Kalquor. I scooted to the rear wall of the cabin, shifting as far from Nang as possible. Then I started struggling with the straps binding me.

 

My feet—no big deal. It was easy to reach down and unhook the clasps. I ignored Nang calling, “Don’t do that. Shalia, I mean it.”

 

“Fuck you,” I muttered under my breath. It had to be said whether I let him hear it or not. I kicked away the yellow collars, hooked together as the ones on my wrists were.

 

The shuttle bumped to a rough rest on the surface of wherever we were. Using my teeth, I raced to free myself as Nang switched off the shuttle with a curse and bolted out of the pilot’s seat.

 

“What are you going to do? Punch me again? It’s a lot easier, isn’t it, with me being unable to defend myself.” I sneered at him, wondering why I was baiting the asshole. But rage felt better than fear. Fear might freeze me.

 

He didn’t abuse me. Instead, Nang knelt and covered my wrists. “I didn’t want to hit you, Shalia. You gave me no choice!”

 

“The favorite excuse of the abuser. ‘It’s your fault I hurt you.’ Bullshit, Nang. You must outweigh me by a hundred and fifty pounds. This is all on you.”

 

Anxiety and confusion twisted his features. He was pathetic. But I refused to feel sorry for him. The man held my life in his hands, and there was no doubt in my mind I was in danger. If I could convince him to stop and think beyond the madness that had gripped him, maybe he’d acknowledge the fact he had a problem.

 

“Shalia, you’re the only person who matters to me. The only thing that’s kept me going these last few months is being with you again.” His smile was tremulous. “With you, I’m the man I should be. Remember how I tracked down your mother when those extremists kidnapped her? How I helped to rescue her? Don’t you remember that, Shalia?”

 

Ancestors help me. He was asking me to recognize a crime that he was repeating. Kidnapping and torturing.

 

I wanted to point out the irony, the sheer craziness of it all, but he kept talking. “What about when your quarters were bombed? I spearheaded the effort that got you out. Who did you turn to when you needed help, help only I could give? Wasn’t I there for you?”

 

He’d convinced himself he was my hero. In his mind, Nang was the only person who’d ever done a thing for me.

 

I attempted one more stab to make him own up to the truth. “Who’s holding me prisoner now, Nang? Who’s taking me from a wonderful life into hiding like a criminal? Who punched me in the head? Don’t you fathom what’s in front of you?”

 

“I’m sorry I hit you. I can do better. I will do better. Give me a chance. You’ll see.” He was feverish in his desire to convince me. He let go of my wrists and cupped my cheeks, raining kisses on it. “We were so happy together. I made you feel good. I know you remember that. Clawing me as you came, your pussy clutching my cock, being my good little girl…”

 

He tried to kiss me for real, his touch moving down to my breasts. I fought, kicking him, shoving against him, twisting away to scream in fury. “Get off me!”

 

I don’t know if he jerked back at the vehemence, or if I succeeded in moving him. At any rate, I found some space. As he stared at me with that stupid confused expression that I had learned to hate already, I spit in his face.

 

I never saw the blow coming. All I knew was I was knocked on the floor, my cheek flaring white-hot. It felt like a mixture of sunburn and ants biting me in a frenzy. I laid still, relearning how to breathe.

 

“Shalia! No, no, I didn’t mean to do that.” Nang picked me up, set me in his lap, and rocked me as he cried into my hair. The son of a bitch fucking cried after slapping the sense out of me. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please stop making me mad. I can’t think straight when you make me doubt you love me.”

 

Ancestors and prophets. He wouldn’t understand. Nothing would help him comprehend that the little we’d had was over between us. Nang was in a place that I wouldn’t be able to lead him out of, no matter what I did.

 

I had to escape. I couldn’t wait for rescue. Nang was too deluded, and no matter what, I couldn’t see the situation ending well for me if I didn’t find some avenue of escape.

 

As he held me and petted me, his hand rubbing up and down my back, I went to work on the wrist restraints. I tried to keep my movements subtle, but after only a few seconds, he was on to me.

 

“Stop it,” he hissed, switching from contrite to angry again. “Stop fighting me.”

 

“Never,” I snarled. “I will never quit trying to escape. I don’t want you. I’d rather a Tragoom fuck me to death than be touched by you. I could never love you, Nang. I hate you, and I’ll always hate you for this.”

 

His face darkened. I saw the mindless insanity without its masks, without its pretense of adoration and dreams unfulfilled. There was a monster in Nang, and all it knew was greed to possess and to destroy what it could not have. Right now, that was me.

 

Then everything darkened. He knocked me unconscious again.

 

It would have been nice to stay in that senseless void he sent me into. God knows, I tried to not leave it. A part of me wanted to cop out, to hide in darkness until all the bad disappeared. I admit to the weakness. My strength doesn’t lie in not being scared. Being scared is what drives me, that insistence to not be helpless against those forces that would harm me. If I’m to live, it’s with the ability to live my life.

 

But forget the philosophical mumbo-jumbo. I woke up. And despite the feeling my noggin had been split in two, I immediately began to ponder how to break out of the fix I was in.

 

Like the first time, I didn’t open my eyes immediately. Ugh, my head hurt too bad to rush that task, no matter how much I needed to know what was happening around me. I kept them closed and my body lax.

 

I could hear someone pacing back and forth, back and forth, making the floor beneath me vibrate. Nang wasn’t talking to himself any longer. I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

 

I took inventory quickly, trying to sense other body parts beyond my aching head. Wrists strapped in front of me. Legs free, however. I supposed that was a step in the right direction, though it wouldn’t do me a hell of a lot of good to run anywhere. But maybe I could land a decent kick when Nang closed in.

 

Which he was doing, judging from the sounds and vibrations of the steps. Crap. Now what would happen?

 

I continued to play as if I was out, wondering what fresh hell I was in for.

 

Palms framing my face. It took all I had to not wince as the left cheek screamed with renewed pain at the pressure. That’s where the second punch had landed, along with the slap. I was betting that side looked like a big ol’ pumpkin by now.

 

I remained still. Nang sighed. His caress slid down my neck. Down to my shoulders. Cupping my breasts.

 

I swear I twitched. A part of me howled in rage to be touched by that man. It wanted to break every finger, to bite them off. It took everything in my power to not jerk up, to not take a swing with my bound hands. I forced myself to stop, and Nang seemed to not notice the slight movement.

 

I had to try to survive. If I kept inciting Nang to punch me, he’d eventually do real damage. Maybe kill me…and the unborn child I carried. I was abruptly reminded that though Anrel was safe and sound somewhere else, I had someone else’s existence to concern myself with.

 

Had Gilsa reached the homestead? Had my clan received our messages? Were they zeroing in on me now, or was help far off?

 

I’d thought I couldn’t delay waiting on someone to gallop to my rescue. Yet that was what I had to do, if I was to keep myself and the unborn child alive. But with no idea of when help would come, I also had to be ready to fight should a real opportunity arise.

 

The chances of that were down to slim and none. I would do what I had to.

 

I laid there, letting Nang grope me, pretending I didn’t notice every hateful, unwanted touch. Pretending my skin didn’t crawl, that I didn’t feel violated.

 

I could have sobbed in relief when he stopped, but that respite was short-lived. Nang lifted me to pull my blouse over my head. Dear ancestors, he was undressing me.

 

Now I fought the urge to scream and vomit. The moment stood out, hideous beyond belief. I couldn’t allow it. I had to allow it. I had to hang on.

 

My shirt hung up on my bound wrists. Nang grunted, and flung my arms over my head. The soft, worn cloth of a workshirt settled over my hands. My arms thudded to the floor, bent in a circle. Broken Shalia, abused doll. That’s how I must have looked.

 

I bit down on my tongue as he shoved my bra up and out of the way, baring my breasts. It was the only way to keep from screaming.

 

He buried his face against me, moaning and from the sounds of it, weeping again. I shoved the horrified part of me away, looking for the fighter I’d so diligently cultivated. I found her, and my resolve kicked in.

 

With Nang distracted, I opened my eyes. I relegated what he was doing to the back of my mind, not letting it affect the instinct Oses, Resan, and others had helped me hone. With calculation at the fore, what was happening to my body was no longer a factor. I could assess with the coldness of a trained warrior.

 

I moved my head just enough to take in my surroundings. The undersides of the seats of the cabin, with their legs bolted securely to the floor…no help on my right. A cautious peek to the left confirmed the same on that side.

 

I had to move more to peer past Nang’s bulk on top of me. The end of the cabin, where I’d confronted him. Nothing I could see beyond him. No help, though the temporary urge to reach down and yank out fistfuls of his hair had appeal.

 

That left the hardest direction to search. Moving as carefully as possible, I strained to look over my head, begging the ancestors for any small chance. The prophets had failed me for ages, so it was to the Kalquorian equivalent that I silently appealed to.

 

The ancestors heard. They answered.

 

The metal beam I had tried to brain Nang with at the site where Clan Denkar’s shuttle went down was mere inches from my blouse-covered fingertips. Had he tossed it there carelessly when he’d put me on the ship? Had it fallen from some other place he’d stored it? I didn’t care. It was there, and I meant to have it.

 

I didn’t lunge for my one weapon, my last hope. Nang was absorbed in doing what he was doing, so I took my time, considering the moves I would make.

 

The way I saw it, I had two options. The first was obvious. Go for that desperate grab. Hope Nang wouldn’t think fast enough the instant I tensed to do so to yank me from the bar. Even if I got hold of it, he might block an attack. He only needed that split second of warning that I was awake.

 

I thought over my other ruse, the subtle one. It would mean lulling Nang into a false sense of security. A lot of it depended on how great his delusion was when it came to the hope of winning me over.

 

Neither gave me a lot of hope, but brute frontal attacks had done damned little for me so far. I was due for a change in tactics.

 

I muttered nonsense syllables thickly and stretched, as if starting to come out of my stupor. Then I moaned, as if enjoying the attention.

 

Nang paused, his face moving against me. I was sure he must be looking at me, to check if I’d awakened. I whimpered, a pitiful sound of loss before going still again.

 

I prayed my act was a good one, sufficient to fool Nang. I prayed harder that he wouldn’t notice the end of the metal bar beneath my shirt, that he wouldn’t look and discover the tips of my fingers clutching it.

 

The seconds hung suspended, refusing to pass as the quiet went on. Then, a cautious movement against my breasts. An experimental nuzzling. A kiss.

 

I murmured a happy sound and wriggled a little, inviting more attention. I let a slight smile play over my lips, trying not to overdo it. He was watching.

 

“Shalia.” A glad whisper, and then Nang returned to what he’d been doing before, with more enthusiasm.

 

When his teeth nipped, I almost panicked. Ancestors save me, what if he decided to bite me with his fangs? I gripped the metal bar hard, and I nearly brought it down. It occurred to me that if Nang had a sane thought, he would have intoxicated me with his venom. He still might. I tensed, ready to act.

 

Then cold calculation returned, my training taking precedence once more. I couldn’t rush this. If I fucked up once more, it would probably be the last.

 

When Nang paused again, perhaps because I’d gone stiff for a nanosecond, I did my best to mask the mistake by twisting in his grip. I whispered, “Yes,” again hoping against hope I wasn’t overacting.

 

I guess not. He fell for it. “My love. My only love.”

 

When I was sure Nang was once more too busy to notice, I opened my eyes a touch, peeking at him. His dark head had begun to move down my body as he eased my workpants down my hips. I watched and waited for him to shift into position.

 

Lower. Lower. And then, hovering not in the greatest of places from the angle I was stuck with, but the best I was going to get. Keeping my lower body lax, I gripped the bar hard.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

His head rose fast. I’d hoped it would. I needed him to make up for me not landing as mighty a swing as I wanted. The metal flashed down on top of his skull, and I saw the shock in his eyes an instant before pain.

 

I’d readied myself for that too. I was not wasting my final chance on sentiment or sympathy. He was not a person. He was not a sick individual who needed help. He was no more than an instrument of pain, a rabid dog that had to be stopped.

 

I never paused. I hit him again, jackknifing my body out from under him. I didn’t try to escape, though. I had to take him down. I had to stop him, even if it meant killing him. I drove the bar down again and again, not giving him a chance to scramble away, not giving him a chance to fight back. I pounded him as he emitted strange, breathless squeaks, as blood flowed and then splattered, as I screamed all the fear and rage that had built since discovering he was coming after me.

 

I hit him a few more times after he quit moving. Then I stopped. I stared at the crumpled figure lying at my feet, at what remained of a once-proud and accomplished man.

 

I killed him. That was my first thought. He was so still. Then he drew a moaning breath. And another. His respiration steadied. Nang was alive.

 

I’d read enough books and seen plenty movies to know this was when to finish him. Like anyone else who’d ever read a thriller or gone to the theater, I always rolled my eyes when the villain was left hurt, but able to come after the hero later in the story. How stupid was that old gimmick, anyway?

 

But this was not a movie or a book. This was real. And I was taken aback that when I’d believed I’d killed Nang, I hadn’t remembered he was a living person, someone I’d once cared about. I was horrified when my brain spoke the words I killed him, and I hadn’t felt a fucking thing. No remorse, no horror. The idea I’d taken a life held the same meaning as if I’d stepped on a bug.

 

Somehow, that was more monstrous than Nang kidnapping and attempting to assault me.

 

Revulsion filled me. What had I let him turn me into? This wasn’t me, Shalia Monroe, the woman who once cried over a mouse caught in the trap I’d set out for it. I wasn’t a sociopath who ended lives without a pause.

 

Was I?

 

I didn’t recognize that a person driven into pure survival mode could reach a point where feelings turned off. I’d coached myself to focus on doing what needed to be done to stay alive, and my consciousness had gone along with that requirement. Filled with chaos and blood and my enemy beaten within an inch of his life, I let the real me, complete with insecurities, regain the upper hand. And that Shalia totally freaked out.

 

At least she didn’t pull that other stupid movie trick and drop the bar, though a clump of Nang’s bloodied hair clung to its end. I don’t think anyone could have pried that piece of metal out of freaked-out Shalia’s hands.

 

Instead of being smart and finishing the threat once and for all, I ran out of the shuttle. For a few seconds, I kept running, though I had no idea where I was or where I was heading. I wasn’t running to find help. I wasn’t running from Nang. I ran from me, from the creature that would have killed without conscience.

 

I wish I could claim I woke up on my own and pulled my mind together. That there wasn’t a chance I wouldn’t have run until I dropped of exhaustion. Unfortunately, I can’t. It was Nang, rising from the near-dead in true movie-monster fashion who wins that honor.

 

Bashed and bloodied head be damned, he woke up and chased after me before I got out of sight of the shuttle. Thankfully, freaked-out Shalia let cold-blooded Shalia take control when he grabbed me and whirled me around to confront him. I went into fighter mode without hesitation, already battling before my conscious mind registered I’d been caught again. It all became a blur, but I do remember the sensation of pounding with the bar once again, hitting and hitting until the body I clubbed fell to the ground.

 

No doubt Nang wasn’t as strong as he’d been the first couple of clashes we’d had. The beatdown I’d administered in the shuttle had to have been the reason I won that round.

 

I stood over him, the rod raised over him, prepared to come down if he twitched. This time I felt horror at the mess I’d made of him. His face, half in the dirt, was masked in blood. He breathed shallowly, his mouth gaping open.

 

A percussion blaster lay near his outstretched hand.

 

I stared at the hand weapon, its metal barrel twinkling in the sun. He’d been holding it? Had he planned to shoot me in his mindless rage?

 

I’d like to think he would have used it merely as a threat. But there was no way to know. I was pretty certain he’d not been armed at any point before I’d run from the shuttle. He must have grabbed it from wherever he’d stashed it on board.

 

I kicked the weapon away from him, so he wouldn’t be able to reach it. Only then did I pick it up. I checked the charge. Fully powered. And the safety mechanism that would keep it from going off accidentally was switched off.

 

Again, I’d want to believe he hadn’t reached that point. But I don’t know for sure. I may never know.

 

I left the safety off when I pointed it at him. I wasn’t certain if I would get it over with and kill him, or not. Instinct warred with basic and deadly humanity. Coldblooded Shalia told me not to be an idiot a second time.

 

But I had the firepower now. And I was a feeling person again, who didn’t want to kill.

 

Perversely, remorse at the thought of blastering the stupid bastard gave me the kind of strength that would have allowed me to do so if he’d moved the least bit. I’d feel guilty as hell later, but I could end Nang’s life at the slightest hint he was regaining consciousness. How weird that I was stronger than before. And relieved that I hadn’t turned into a sociopath after all. Somehow, freaked-out Shalia and coldblooded Shalia had found common ground. I was whole and better than before.

 

“Nang, can you hear me?” No tremor in my voice. I was glad of that.

 

He didn’t respond to my call. Which was good. How awful would it be to have your head blown off just by answering to your name?

 

“If you’re fucking with me by playing possum, listen up. I’ve got your blaster. I’m holding it on you. If I even imagine you move, I’m taking you out. I will kill you, Nang. Right here and now. Don’t give me a reason. Stay there, stay still, and you can stay alive.”

 

He laid there, a big lump of beaten man. Realizing I should shut the fuck up and get the fuck out, I backed towards the shuttle. And kept moving, watching him the whole while, even when he was a tiny molehill in the distance. I was an idiot to leave him breathing. I wasn’t idiot enough to turn my back on him.

 

As soon as I climbed into the shuttle, I closed and locked the hatch. Not that it really mattered, since Nang was who the vessel was keyed to, but I’d take every tiny delay I could manage. I was inside, safe from Nang for an instant. I could crank the craft up and fly off.

 

The adrenaline I’d been running on didn’t have a chance to ebb before I got to the cockpit and found the mangled mess of the control panel. I stood in the opening between cockpit and cabin, staring in shock at the cracked covering, at the computer processors that had been yanked out, broken, and strewn all over.

 

That was the lowest moment for me. Lower than waking to find Nang had knocked me out and tied me up, lower than when I thought I’d turned into a heartless murderer. Maybe it was because I’d hoped I’d won the day, and discovering I hadn’t was too much to handle. Or maybe it was the blatant evidence that at some point, probably after the second time he’d knocked me cold, Nang had decided we weren’t going to run off a happy couple together. That he’d destroy any chance of me escaping if I was lucky enough to overcome him, claim a last fuck, and then kill us both.

 

Either way, the bottom dropped out. I sank to the floor and cried. I’d hit rock bottom and there was nothing left but to shatter. Which I did.

 

But only for a little while. The storm passed after a few minutes, thank the ancestors. I guess I’d worked too hard to survive to stay down. Utter devastation came and went with all the alacrity of a polite guest who knew not to overstay their welcome.

 

I’d gained my freedom, and I needed to ensure it stayed that way. Keeping the blaster at the ready in case Nang charged through the hatch, I set to work pulling those ties off my wrists. It took only a minute before I was shaking my hands, making certain my circulation was okay.

 

I considered my next move. A com would be great. The shuttle’s was trashed along with all the other controls, but I’d been wearing my personal unit when Nang took me. With any luck, it was somewhere within the craft.

 

I found it after rooting through half the cubbies and storage bins in the vessel. Miracle of miracles, Nang hadn’t destroyed it. I keyed it on, hoping for a decent signal as I tried my best to connect with Seot’s frequency.

 

No such luck. Same story for Cifa and Larten, my bodyguards, and Clan Denkar. Ugh. The residents of the area prefer their isolation and privacy, but for an emergency situation, it was downright unacceptable.

 

I noted the time and determined I would make regular attempts to raise someone. At some point, Seot’s company would pinpoint my location, sending help anyway. They didn’t rely on the frequency net, needing only a receiver to catch my transmitter’s signal. Seot had that short-distance receiver. If Nang hadn’t flown me out of range, they’d find me sooner or later. I had to hope we were within the portable receiver’s radius. To the best of my knowledge, Nang wasn’t aware of my implanted tag. It was my best hope that we hadn’t flown far while I was unconscious.

 

That left my next concern: what was I supposed to do about Nang?

 

I could try to barricade myself in the shuttle until help arrived. I could go out and finish killing Nang—if he wasn’t dead. I could try to tie him up.

 

All my options sucked for some reason or another. Barricading myself held no guarantee that Nang wouldn’t force his way in. That he wouldn’t get the upper hand once more. No, I didn’t want to chance him catching me, not for a single second.

 

Option two: I could go out and kill him. I would have earlier, but I’d thought I could escape in the shuttle. I’d planned to leave him for the authorities to mop up. As hurt as he’d looked, he wouldn’t have gotten far before law enforcement caught him.

 

I hated that I’d been merciful only to turn around and end his life anyway. It seemed incredibly brutal. But then again, his injuries might have overcome him already. Maybe there was nothing more to do. Maybe I’d finished the deed, an idea that sickened me. Thank goodness. No sociopathic tendencies here. I had a conscience.

 

Final option: if Nang lived, tie him up and guarantee he couldn’t do any harm to me or escape. That meant getting close to him. Close enough for him to grab me, kill me. Big no on that option. That was automatically out of the question.

 

Hunker down or murder a fellow being, then. Take a chance to keep blood off my hands, or guarantee my safety. Not the kind of choice anyone wants. Yet it was what I was stuck with.

 

I’m won’t record the next ten minutes of hemming and hawing as I tried to decide. I weighed and reweighed my alternatives. I imagined my daughter growing up without a mother. I imagined the day Anrel asked questions about the men who were potentially her biological father, and having to explain that one was dead by my hand. I paced up and down that shuttle cabin, listening the whole while for the hatch to open.

 

When I tired of the various creaks that made me jump, I committed to the choice I was guaranteed to have to live with. Even with how it all turned out, it was the right decision. The one I should have gone with the first instant I’d had the chance.

 

I reflected on that as I readied to open the hatch and start that walk to kill Nang. It would have been so much better to end the fight in the heat of battle. Cold-bloodedly marching up to him where he laid outside, of standing a safe distance from him, of blasting him into the hereafter like a dog that had been hit by a car—yeah, it was a pretty heinous thing I was about to do. And who knows how the law would have judged my actions? Walking up and murdering a man who was potentially no longer a threat—I wasn’t sure how that would play in the courts.

 

It didn’t matter. The feeling that someone was squeezing my heart in his fist didn’t matter either. I was going to take Nang’s life so that I didn’t have to worry about mine, Anrel’s, or my unborn child’s. The situation had gone too far. I had to end it. That meant ending Nang.

 

I pointed the blaster I’d taken from him at the hatch as I called for it to unlock and open. I had a dreadful certainty he would be standing on the other side, waiting for me to venture out. My finger was squeezing the trigger as the door slid open, ready to do what had to be done.

 

Outside, there was only blue sky, a distant stand of trees, and the clearing I’d barely registered when I’d run out before. I eased off the blaster in time to keep it from going off and shooting nothing.

 

He wasn’t there. Wasn’t on the other side of the door, waiting to attack. I was so stunned by this turn of events, that I stood there for long seconds, blinking to clear my eyes of whatever kept them from seeing Nang.

 

Nope. Not there. Okay then.

 

I approached the open hatch by the inch, certain he would lunge into the cabin. Yet as moments passed and the worst didn’t happen, I took heart. I moved a little faster, but continued to be cautious. My ears strained to hear anything but the pounding of my heart and the soft breeze outside. I searched the landscape, easy to do considering Nang had landed us in a place that had been cleared of trees. A harvesting area for the area’s chief export, apparently.

 

At last, I stood three feet from the hatch. No sign of trouble. The blaster, manufactured for the bigger Kalquorian hands, had grown heavy in my sweaty grip, but I held it steady as I made my final approach. As I stepped to the open doorway and swung the barrel in one direction and then the other.

 

And saw only the clearing, sky, and distant forest.

 

No Nang waiting to spring at me.

 

My pulse slowed. I was able to draw a deep breath. Good night, I’d been hyperventilating. That plus relief left me dizzy.

 

I firmly told myself not to relax. I’d read the books and watched the movies, after all. I hadn’t been smart enough to kill Nang when I’d first had the chance…or the second opportunity, for that matter…but I wouldn’t be stupid again. With that in mind, I knelt down in the hatchway. Blaster at the ready, I leaned over to look under the shuttle. He could be hiding under there. Or maybe I’d see his feet on the other side of the craft.

 

No sign of him. I was alone there.

 

I finally gave myself permission to not be so gonzo-vigilant. Not that I wasn’t watchful. Not that I wasn’t primed to blast the first thing half the size of a thamom. But at least I didn’t have to be hyperalert.

 

No, I had to bolster my resolve to finish the job ahead of me. I’d dared to open the hatch to do it, so I would.

 

I took a moment. I would not recognize the object in the middle of the path as Nang, a man I’d once cared for. Not the man who had been a friend. Who had fought to save me, my mother, and hundreds of others on Earth. Who might be the biological father of Anrel.

 

That had been another Nang. This one, this stranger who wore Nang’s face, was a rabid animal, a fiend who would harm my child, not dote on her as her real fathers did. As such, I had to terminate him. For the benefit of all. Especially his maybe-daughter’s. There was no other way.

 

I stepped out of the shuttle. Just a rabid animal. A mad dog. I moved around the shuttle, chanting it in my brain. Rabid animal. Mad dog. Rabid animal. Mad dog.

 

It kept my feet moving until I came to the rear of the shuttle and searched the distance for the huddled shape I’d left bleeding in the lane. A shape that wasn’t there.

 

I stopped. For a crazy instant, I told myself I was too far off to glimpse him, that he laid where I’d left him. But I’d backed to the shuttle, keeping him in the blaster’s sights until I’d gained its relative safety. I should have been able to see him right away.

 

Not there. Like the horror movie monster, he’d disappeared. He could be anywhere, including nearby.

 

I didn’t hesitate long. Shock gave way to training, and I pivoted without consciously telling my feet to do so. Then I was in the shuttle again, ordering the hatch closed and locked again.

 

I can curse myself forever for letting him live. I can rant and rail at the humanity that insisted I spare his life at the threat of my own. What’s the point? I fucked up. I couldn’t take it back. I have to live with my dumb-assery.

 

At least once I was committed to surviving at all costs, I set about barricading that hatch with furious energy. He’d come for me. My defenses would slow him down. Then I would kill him.

 

A lot of large pieces of a shuttle are bolted down. There’s no hope of yanking a seat or table free of its moorings and dragging it into another position…say in front of an entrance. However, there were sizeable panel pieces from the wreckage of the craft’s control board. They weren’t heavy, but they were big enough that Nang would have to pause to move them aside. A second was all I needed. Two seconds. Three, at the max. It would be adequate. It would have to be adequate.

 

I had grabbed two of these big components, positioning them about waist-high in front of the hatch, when my name was spoken out of nowhere. No, not out of nowhere. In the cabin. Right fucking next to me.

 

“Shalia? Can you hear me?”

 

I shrieked and yanked the blaster from the nearby table where I’d laid it while I set up my barricade. Within quick reach, but not if an enemy stood at my side.

 

But when I swept around, ready to blast the bastard to kingdom come, only the empty cabin greeted me. Nobody else was there. Fuck, was I hearing voices in this massive fuck-up of a situation now?

 

“Shalia, come in.” Again, at my side…and in Seot’s voice.