A tentative tapping drew Isolaund’s gaze toward the door separating her bedroom from the rest of her quarters. She had just retired for the night and sat on the foot of the bed, brushing out her long sliver hair. Only Arrista would dare to interrupt, so Isolaund called, “Make it quick. I’m not in the mood for drama.”

The door eased open and Arrista peeked inside, her expression tense and filled with dread. “I’m so sorry, mistress, but General Alonov is here again, demanding to see you.”

“By all that’s blessed, is Alonov daft? There is nothing he can say that can’t wait until—”

Arrista was shoved out of the way and Alonov burst into the bedroom. “I beg to differ! Are the reports true? Did you release one of the human captives tonight?”

Isolaund squared her shoulders and clenched her jaw. The man was a mannerless bully. “Get. Out.” She didn’t raise her voice. Instead, she infused each syllable with indignation.

He stomped toward her.

In an instant, Certice stood between them, teeth bared, snarling out an unmistakable warning.

He glared at the battle cat, then turned his hostile gaze back on Isolaund. “My spies just told me one of the humans was tromping around in the forest. Is it true? Did you release the dark one?”

“I told you I would negotiate the exchange. That’s what I’m doing. We can discuss the details in the morning or—”

“I thought Toxyn was the fool, but his actions make more sense than yours!” He motioned toward her with such aggression that the karron snapped her jaws and growled even louder. He ignored the close call and focused on the female. “We had the upper hand. Why in all the gods’ names would you give that up?”

“I did no such thing,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. “I sent a messenger, nothing more.”

“That’s nonsense and we both know it.” Alonov’s tone was calm, but cold. “I want the red one now. I’ll see to the negotiations myself. You’re dismissed.”

Her chin shot up, but part of her wanted to laugh. “Sorry, General. I don’t answer to you.”

His fists balled at his sides and his nostrils flared. He glared at Certice, then sneered, “You love to forget the fact, but this little hobby of yours is a military project. With the snap of my fingers, I can reallocate your entire budget.” Without another word, he stormed from the room.

Isolaund glared at the door through which he’d stormed. The bastard was right. When push came to shove, she worked for him. But everyone answered to the Guiding Council. And she had a closer connection to that august body than Alonov could ever claim. But would her brother help her? She sneered again. The only thing more frustrating than Alonov was those useless bureaucrats! And Indrex could be the worst of all.

Arrista appeared in the doorway a moment later, looking flushed and rattled. “Will he return?”

“Doubtful.” Isolaund considered the question more carefully, but still came to the same conclusion. “He was just blowing off steam.”

“Did you hear that they arrested Toxyn?”

Isolaund arched her brows at the news. “I hadn’t heard, but I’m not surprised. Toxyn’s misbehavior resulted in the capture of an Alonov. No one endangers a member of the Ayrontu without risking harsh punishment. Which is as it should be.” Toxyn was Ayrontu also, but his family was not nearly as revered as the Alonovs. If someone with a lower designation had committed the crime, they would have been executed on the spot. The Guiding Council might want to blur the lines between designations, but centuries of tradition didn’t change overnight.

“Of course, Mistress.” There was a strange brittleness in Arrista’s tone that Isolaund had never heard before. Arrista had been particularly moody ever since she spent the night with Toxyn. Did the girl regret her decision to offer her body to Toxyn? Yes, Isolaund had offered Arrista as a sexual surrogate when Toxyn pressured Isolaund for sex, but she’d made sure Arrista was willing before she left them alone. She searched the girl’s tense features, then dismissed her concern. It must be something else.

Arrista started to leave, but Isolaund stopped her. “We need to move the red-haired human. Alonov will come for her tonight and I don’t want him to find her.”

“Of course, Mistress. Where shall I take her?”

Isolaund thought for a moment. Alonov’s spies were everywhere, and he knew the forbidden passages even better than she did. There was only one place she knew of that would be safe from the general. “Can you find the grotto by yourself? You’ve been there several times with me.” The grotto had once been a place of worship and sacrifice to sorcerers like her mother. Many believed powerful spirts still lingered there, so most avoided the secluded chamber.

“I believe so, mistress.”

“Stash the human there, and I’ll work with my brother to resolve this as quickly as possible.” She hated to admit that she needed Indrex’s assistance, but there was no avoiding it now. Indrex was her only weapon against Alonov. “Make damn sure the human is securely restrained. The grotto is far too close to the surface for my liking.”

* * *

“THEY RELEASED MY LIST of matches almost a week ago,” Sara said, her voice soft, almost sad. “Several of my suitors came forward right away. They seemed pleased and excited by the possibility of courting me.”

Xorran tensed. If she was trying to make him jealous, she’d succeeded. “And how did you react? I was under the impression you wanted to resist us at all costs.”

She shrugged. “I talked to the polite ones, explained my hesitation without being a jerk.”

“Were some less than polite?” His hands clenched into fists. If anyone insulted or frightened her, he would make them regret their rudeness.

A mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I found creative ways to discourage the ones that wouldn’t listen. I’ve always found it easier to laugh than get angry.”

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Are you the one who dared Heftar to eat a lonfan pepper?”

Another shrug lifted her shoulders. “He was downright obnoxious. I refuse to regret how I handled that situation.”

Hearing about Heftar’s humiliation had made Xorran laugh, so he couldn’t really chastise her. Heftar was known to be overly aggressive, even a bully. Doubtlessly he had earned the discomfort her prank had caused him. Xorran was pleased to know his potential mate had creative ways of dealing with such males.

“Why didn’t you open your message?”

Her tone was tinged with disappointment, so Xorran looked at her. He’d hoped to read her expression, but her face was averted. “I’ve been extremely busy. Now that everyone knows I’m a tracker, requests for my time are endless.”

“Then how did you know we were compatible?”

Following her example, he kept his gaze fixed on the wide riverbank as they walked along in the moonlight. “I sensed your fear more clearly than I’ve ever felt anything in my life.” Her emotions hadn’t reached him since. Still, he wasn’t sure if she was really as calm as she seemed. He refused to invade her mind to satisfy his curiosity. “Once I was near you, it didn’t take long to figure out why your emotions found me so easily.”

She finally looked at him, big dark eyes luminous in the dimness. “But we aren’t bonded. I thought the mind link is what allows couples to exchange thoughts and emotions.”

For so long he’d been endangered by his abilities. It still felt strange to discuss them openly. “I’m mildly empathic. Tracking, in the Bilarrian sense of the word, is a specialized form of empathy. And empathy is always most effective with blood relatives and mates, or potential mates.”

“I see,” she whispered and averted her gaze again.

“Why does that make you uncomfortable?” He didn’t smell arousal on her yet, though her natural scent was sure as hells affecting him. She wasn’t oblivious to him either. He’d caught her gaze moving over his bare torso more than once. Still, the pull didn’t usually engage for the female until the couple kissed. And gods how he wanted to kiss her, to bury both hands in her hair and slowly taste her sweet mouth.

“You already have access to your magic,” she pointed out. “Why saddle yourself with a mate for the rest of your life?”

Stunned by her casual words, he stopped walking and faced her. Gaining access to their magic was an important factor in why battle born males wanted to bond with human females. Like most of the Outcasts, Xorran’s mother had been a war bride, the Bilarrian captive of his Rodyte father. For several generations war brides had been forced to bear the children of their Rodyte captors in the hopes that the child, or children, would inherit their mother’s magic. Daughters often manifested faded echoes of their mother’s power, while sons were usually born latent. The practice of taking war brides had been outlawed, but that didn’t keep the battle born males from searching for ways to access their full potential.

After many years of failure, a group of ambitious geneticists found a way to trigger the needed changes. By using the natural metamorphosis that occurred during mating as a delivery mechanism, the hybrid genome was much more likely to accept the necessary recoding. The final ingredient in the complex recipe was human females. Humans were resilient and tolerated genetic resequencing better than most species, so the scientists focused on tailoring the transformation program for a Rodyte hybrid male and human female.

Still, accessing their magic was one motivation among many. Outcasts, and their battle born comrades, longed for the stability and comfort of a soul bond. They wanted a loving female beside them as they built a future free of prejudice and violence. They wanted someone to love and protect, to share every new experience. Did none of that appeal to her? At some point in the not too distant past she must have been attracted to the concept. Why else would she have volunteered to bond with a battle born rebel?

“Is that how you see soul bonding? A ‘saddle’? Something unwanted and cumbersome?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced into his eyes then quickly away. “The closest thing to soul bonding on Earth is marriage and I’ve never known anyone who could make that work. My parents hung on for thirty-one years and then had one of the nastiest divorces I’ve ever witnessed. It was ridiculous how horribly they turned on each other.” Her voice softened, became wistful as she added, “It was also really sad.”

Unable to fight his need to touch her, he covered her shoulders with his hands and moved closer. “Soul bonding is very different than any human relationship. Humans can lie and deceive, harbor resentments and plaster on fake smiles. Soul-bonded couples share everything, thoughts, emotions, aspirations and fears. There is no hiding, no falseness once the link is formed. It’s honest, visceral, and real.”

She twisted away from him and started walking again. “I don’t think I want anyone to know me that well.”

He tensed, easily keeping pace with her agitated steps. She’d volunteered for the transformation program back on Earth. That was how Arton and his team of hunters had known who to kidnap. Each female they’d taken—with a couple of exceptions—had already been tested and approved as a genetically compatible mate. How was this any different? “Did you volunteer for the transformation program?” Wanting an honest answer, he fought to keep the challenge out of his tone.

“Yes, but...” She sighed, still avoiding his gaze. “Everything that’s happened since we left Earth has made me reevaluate my decision. Lily and Thea are so different now. It’s hard to believe they’re the same women I met six weeks ago. Thea’s the one who convinced me that the only rational response to being kidnapped was to resist you guys at every turn. Now she’s bonded to Rex and seems genuinely happy. I never thought I’d use that adjective to describe Thea Cline.”

Confusion drew his brows together. “You don’t want your friends to be happy?”

She shot him an impatient look. “Of course I do. But her transformation has been so sudden and so complete that it doesn’t seem natural.” She sighed and added, “It seems coerced, almost drug induced.”

The Wheel came into view, so Xorran slowed his pace, not yet ready for the conversation to end. “How do humans behave when they’ve first located a potential partner? Are they not emotional and overly affectionate?”

“Yes, but not to the extent I’ve witnessed in Lily and Thea. They’re like...Stepford wives.”

“I don’t understand the reference.”

“It means spirited females who were secretly replaced by lifelike robots that behave exactly the way their husbands wanted their wives to behave. It comes from a classic sci-fi book and movie.” Her steps paused and she finally met his gaze again. “I’ve seen humans that were head-over-heels in love. They can’t keep their hands off each other and they’re convinced they’ll be together until their dying day. Then the newness wears off and time changes their bodies. Pretty soon they’re bored and restless, and one or the other cheats. Or worse, money pressures and life just wears them down until there’s simply nothing left. Whatever the cause, it never lasts. That’s what scares me about Thea and Lily. A soul bond is permanent. What happens when the pull wears off and they realize there is no escaping what they’ve done?”

“Lily and Thea are not married to their males. They are soul bonded.” He shook his head, frustrated by her vehemence. “You would have to experience the difference to understand.”

She laughed and shook her head. “And experiencing ‘the difference’ requires a permanent commitment. Sorry, Xorran, think I’ll pass.”

There were ways for her to preview what it was like to be soul bonded, but he didn’t argue. She was in no state of mind for romance. One of her friends was still in danger and they were about to face one of the beings who had terrorized her. Xorran’s eyes narrowed. Was that why she was so defensive? Was she still afraid? It was so damn tempting to scan her mind and find out exactly what she was feeling. He shook away the temptation. One of the first lessons his mentor taught him was that power came hand in hand with responsibility. Xorran’s abilities were meant to be passive. If he forced his power to penetrate another’s mind, it corrupted his energy. Not to mention that it violated the other person’s trust.

They reached the Wheel and walked up the ramp leading to the common area on the lowest deck of the Viper. With multiple seating arrangements and nutria-gen kiosks, the area was part lounge, part cafeteria, and a favorite gathering place for the human females. After passing through security scanners that detected various forms of weapons as well as identifying authorized passengers, they were met by one of the guards who handed Xorran a clean uniform top. The guard smirked, but departed without comment.

“Main medical is on deck three, aft, so let’s go there first,” Xorran suggested. “That way we won’t forget later.”

She looked confused for a moment, then understanding sharpened her gaze. “The blood sample. I’d almost forgotten.”

“It will just take a moment,” he assured as he quickly pulled on the shirt.

She watched him silently, dark gaze warm and filled with mischief. “What a shame,” she whispered with a wicked smile. “I can finally see you clearly and they make you cover up.”

Her playfulness sent a fresh rush of desire curling through his body. “We can stop by my cabin on the way back and I’ll give you a private viewing.”

She laughed, her cheeks turning pink. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Main medical was bustling, as usual. Xorran found Doctor Foran and told him that the overlord wanted Sara’s blood screened for nanites and any abnormality that might have resulted from their use. Foran agreed to do the tests, but directed one of his technicians to collect the sample. As Xorran predicted, the detour only took a matter of minutes.

The detention level was all the way in the forward section of deck two, and they’d entered through aft, so they still had a bit of a walk ahead of them.

Rodyte ships were built for functionality, not comfort. The mottled-gray corridors were long and unadorned, the decks textured, providing traction. They’d tried to make changes since arriving on the planet, hoping to provide their females with a more hospitable environment. The “commons” on deck one were the best example. The leisure area had once been a series of cargo holds.

“You don’t have to question the elf directly,” he said, hoping to lighten her mood. “You can simply translate for the interrogator.”

“I’m not afraid of the elf,” she insisted, tossing back her long dark hair. Her face had been scrubbed clean and color returned to her cheeks. She’d put on a clean uniform and combed out her hair before they left the barracks. He’d thought she was attractive before. Now he couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

“I didn’t think you were,” he told her firmly. “But it might be easier to analyze the elf’s reactions if you’re not in the same room with him.”

She shook her head and squared her shoulders. “I need to look him in the eye and show him that we won’t be victims to their cowardly tactics. The Sarronti can’t live above ground anymore, so there is no reason we can’t share this planet.”

“That’s a valid point, but your ability to speak Sarronti is only an advantage as long as the Sarronti are unaware of it. If you confront this elf directly, you reveal your ability.”

Pausing as if to absorb the implications, she slowly nodded. “And he’ll tell the others as soon as he’s released.”

“Undoubtedly,” Xorran agreed.

“I hadn’t thought about that.” A frustrated frown crept across her delicate features.

They lapsed into contemplative silence as they reached the detention area. As with most Rodyte ships, the area was one open space that could be divided into smaller spaces depending on how many people needed to be secured or interrogated. Opaque energy fields surrounded each enclosure, preventing any sort of communication with the outside world, and limiting interaction between the detainees. At present there were three prisoners, two from the Viper’s crew, and the elf.

“How will the elf understand the questions?” She paused and looked at him, a hint of challenge sharpening her expression. “I don’t actually speak Sarronti. I can’t tell the interpreter which words to use.”

“How did you communicate with Arrista?”

“Her translator nanites linked with mine, but the nanites did the actual translation. I still spoke English and she spoke Sarronti. The technology just allowed us to know what the other was saying.”

“So without this link, we’re out of luck.” He sighed. He’d hoped to spare her the stress of facing one of her attackers, but she honestly seemed to welcome the opportunity. “Do you know how to form the link?”

She shook her head, looking a little less enthusiastic. “I’ll have to find a way to let the elf know I can understand him. Hopefully, he’ll do the rest.” Suddenly dread widened her eyes and drained the color from her face. “What about Arrista? If I reveal that I can communicate, Isolaund will know what Arrista did.”

“Damn it.” Xorran scrambled for a way to question the elf without endangering a potential ally, but nothing came to him. They couldn’t communicate with the elf unless he linked with Sara, and finding out that Sara had Sarronti translator nanites implicated Arrista. It was all a giant circle of useless frustration.

“Give me a minute to update Kage. I’ll see if he has any suggestions.”

She nodded, looking as frustrated as Xorran felt.

He turned his head, unable to think of anything other than Sara while he looked at her. He quickly told the overlord what they’d realized and Kage suggested involving Torrin Havier.

“What did he say?” Sara asked as Xorran faced her again.

“Torrin Havier is on his way. I’m not sure why the overlord thinks an assassin can help with this situation, but he was adamant.”

“An assassin?” She sounded uncertain and glanced down the corridor.

“Torrin is well known as a contract killer. He’s wanted in more places than the overlord.” Distracted by the possibilities, Xorran casually revealed the information.

“You don’t sound like you know him very well. Can we trust him?”

Quickly marshaling his expression, Xorran chose his words with more care. He didn’t want his confusion to make her even more uncomfortable. “I’ve met him, but I don’t know any of the Outcasts well. I haven’t been with them that long. The overlord wouldn’t have suggested we network with Torrin if he wasn’t trustworthy. The overlord knows how important this is.”

She nodded, but pressed back against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest.

It felt awkward to loiter here in the hallway, but once they entered the detention area the elf would be able to see them. Xorran didn’t want to appear as if they didn’t know what they were doing, which at the moment was more or less true.

Torrin strode down the corridor a few minutes later. Even dressed in the khaki uniform worn by all the Outcasts, the assassin looked deadly. He’d combed his dark hair back from his face and bound it at the nape of his neck. The severe style accented his angular features and unusual gray/green eyes. His penetrating stare quickly swept over Xorran, then switched to Sara and lingered, though his expression—or utter lack thereof—didn’t change.

“What’s up?” Torrin’s casual tone contradicted his lethal first impression.

“How much did the overlord explain?” Xorran asked.

The assassin shrugged. “Not much. We need to know whatever the elf is willing to tell us, but no one can communicate with him.”

“Sara was given translation nanites while she was their captive. She can speak their language, but doing so openly endangers the elf who helped her escape.” Xorran struggled to understand the overlord’s strategy. What did he think Torrin was going to be able to do? They needed an interpreter, not an assassin. “I’m not sure why the overlord thought you could help us.”

A sly smile bowed his lips as he ambled closer. “If you’ll allow me to touch your female, I’ll see if there is anything I can do.”

Xorran tensed, instinctively moving in front of Sara. “Why do you need to touch her?” And how the hells had Torrin realized Sara was a genetic match with Xorran? He hadn’t even kissed her yet. If her scent had changed, he would have noticed.

“Where do you need to touch me?” Sara moved to his side, her expression nearly as suspicious as his.

“Any skin-to-skin contact should allow me to scan for the nanites. I’ll attempt to link with them, which may or may not allow me to access their translation programming.”

The explanation did little to soothe Xorran’s suspicions. “Are you battle born? I’ve never heard of this ability.”

Torrin scoffed. “Says the Bilarrian tracker. Are you battle born?”

It was a valid point. Xorran’s skills were just as atypical of battle born soldiers as the one Torrin described. Apparently they both had unusual backgrounds. “You can touch her hand or her arm. Nothing above the elbow.”

“Seriously.” Sara glanced at him impatiently. “If he touches me inappropriately, I’ll slap him. You don’t need to treat him like a criminal.”

“I am a criminal,” Torrin said without shame. “We all are.”

Sara tensed at Torrin’s casual statement. He hadn’t sounded proud about it. He was just stating facts. Even if the Outcasts hadn’t committed crimes before coming to Earth, each had been party to a mass kidnapping. She would be wise not to trust any of them. But why draw her attention to the fact?

“Is it your intention to harm me?” She countered his directness with the same, yet his reminder still left her feeling uncomfortable, vulnerable.

“Of course not. We want the same thing.” He held out his hands, palms up. “If I can help you, I will. I simply won’t know if I have anything to offer until I touch you.”

She glanced at Xorran, but his hostile gaze was fixed on the other male. Typical. Rodytes were ridiculously territorial. “Is this where you two scratch the ground and bash your heads together?” Torrin smiled and the tension banding her chest released.

He lowered his arms and the smile faded. “I’m no competition to your tracker. Unfortunately, I’m not compatible with any of the human females.”

Compassion smoothed Xorran’s expression, but his gaze remained wary. “Did they tell you that before or after you agreed to join the Outcasts?”

“After, but I don’t blame Kage. The overlord was more surprised than I was. Compatibility has been an issue my entire life. My physiology is unusual.” There was a wealth of information in the statement, though Sara didn’t understand the specifics. Pain shadowed Torrin’s eyes until he blinked away the past and held out his hands again. “Ready?”

She took a step toward him and placed her hands on his. He slid his hands up and closed his fingers around her wrists. His grip was firm without being hurtful and a strange radiance appeared deep in his eyes. Trepidation spread through her and she tried to pull away. He held her securely as his being gradually sank into her mind. She struggled against the tingling rush at first, afraid of the strange sensations. But the initial uncertainty gradually gave way to fascination.

He moved agilely through her mind, searching, analyzing. She could sense the skill and intensity with which he worked. As he focused on one area, the tingling intensified. She gasped and instinctively tried to pull away again.

“Steady,” he whispered and something swirled through his gaze like smoke. Distracted by the odd motion in his eyes, she stopped resisting long enough for him to locate the cluster of nanites. “There they are,” he muttered. “Almost done.”

The rings in his eyes blurred, stretching and swirling as the entire mass began to rotate. Shocked and afraid, she tugged against his hold on her wrists. “What are you? Rodytes don’t... Where are you really from?”

“He’s Ontarian, or least part Ontarian,” Xorran explained. “Why pretend to be battle born?”

Torrin shook his head and released her arms as he came out of the trance. “My mother was a prisoner of war, just like yours. She just happened to be a hybrid. My maternal grandfather was Ontarian. Does that make my abilities any less advantageous?”

“I apologize,” Xorran said. “Your background is none of our business.”

“I’m not ashamed of it. It’s just complicated enough to take over conversations, so I tend to avoid it.”

Sara hesitantly touched his upper arm, drawing his attention. “Were you able to determine if you can help us or not?”

“I believe so. What do you think?” He spoke in slightly accented Sarronti.

“Wonderful.” She smiled with relief. “Now you don’t need me.”

“Sorry, I’m not sure my range will hold if you leave the area.” He sounded genuinely apologetic. “I’m accessing your nanites to perform this little parlor trick. If I lose the link, the ability will disappear.”

“But I can’t speak Sarronti,” she pointed out.

A knowing smile curved Torrin’s lips. “Actually, you could with a little practice. It’s just a matter of channeling your thoughts back through the translator to retrieve the appropriate words. I can teach you how once your friend is rescued.”

Sara nodded. Being able to speak Sarronti would enable her to communicate with the elves without allowing them into her mind. She glanced at the assassin, unsure if he was a safer alternative. “Do I need to be in the room with you? If the elf sees me, it defeats the purpose for involving you.”

Torrin shook his head. “The link should hold if you watch from the control room. It shouldn’t take long to find out what our reluctant guest knows.”

Xorran led her to a small adjoining room from which the entire detention area could be viewed. The front wall of the room was one massive display that had been segmented into smaller images. Xorran greeted the two guards by name, but neither did more than glance at her. Did everyone presume she belonged to Xorran simply because they arrived together? The conclusion probably worked to her advantage, even if it was slightly annoying.

One of the guards pushed his hands into a holographic grid, known as a control matrix. With a few fluid movements, he filled the left half of the display with images of the elf from multiple angles.

“He’s been sullen, almost pouty, since he got here,” the same guard explained. “It’s hard to know for sure, but I don’t think he’s very old.”

“Has he spoken, attempted to communicate in any way?” Xorran asked.

The guard shook his head. “Just sits there with his hands fisted, staring straight ahead.”

Now that she was safe and well-protected, Sara looked at the elf more closely. Sleek honey-gold hair angled across his forehead and framed his narrow face. The pointed tips of his elongated ears peeked out of the gleaming strands. Like his father, the elf had amber eyes and thick dark lashes. His body was long and lean, not yet filled out by maturity, and years of strenuous exercise.

An opening appeared in the opaque energy field surrounding the elf and Torrin stepped into the cell. The area seemed to shrink as his tall, muscular form filled in the empty space. His bearing was aggressive, gaze slightly narrowed.

“Are you in contact with your people?” he asked in Sarronti.

The elf’s head snapped to the side and he shot to his feet. “You speak our language. How is this possible?”

Xorran touched her arm and asked, “What are they saying?”

She quickly told him.

“I’m asking the questions,” Torrin said, his tone cold yet calm. “Answer honestly and you won’t be harmed. What is your name?”

The elf’s chin angled up and defiance burned in his amber eyes. “My father is General Cagor Alonov. If you know our language, you should know what that means.”

“I didn’t ask your father’s name. I asked yours.”

The elf licked his lips, his gaze nervously darting about. “Farlo. Farlo Alonov. I am Ayrontu, so I expect to be treated with the civility that requires.”

Torrin glanced toward the camera providing the security feed. Ayrontu? Do you know what that means?

The word hadn’t translated for Sara either, so she thought, No clue. See if Farlo will explain.

With a subtle nod, Torrin turned back to the elf. “Ayrontu has no English translation. What does it mean?”

One of the elf’s brows arched dramatically. “You speak our language, yet know nothing about our designations?” He sniffed, then averted his face. “I will tell you nothing.”

“Fine. A few days without food or water should change your mind.” He took a step toward the door.

“Wait! Send word to my father and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

That was easy, maybe too easy. The elf wanted Torrin to think he was terrified, but sharp, cool cunning kept flashing in his amber eyes.

“Tell me something interesting and I’ll send word to your father,” Torrin countered.

“It is common knowledge, so I see no harm in telling you. We have six designations. Each is determined by a family’s standing in the community. Ayrontu is the top designation. We are leaders, the families with wealth and power.”

“What are some of the other designations?” Torrin wanted to know.

“Layot designates artisans and teachers, merchants and farmers. Their designation is the largest, most inclusive. Manual laborers belong to Witernel.”

“What is the lowest designation?” Though his face revealed nothing, a hint of anger crept into Torrin’s tone.

“Niffal.”

“And who belongs to Niffal?” His anger was obvious now.

Farlo looked confused by Torrin’s hostility. “Slaves and bondservants, though there are currently very few slaves. Does your society not have designations? You seem angered by the structure.”

“The levels might not be quiet so defined, but I think most cultures have such designations.” With his hands clasped behind his back, Torrin slowly approached. “Did your father order the taking of female prisoners?”

“No!” he all but shouted the word. “That was all Toxyn. We were supposed to cause trouble, start a fire or two. No one said anything about taking prisoners.”

“Which one was Toxyn and why did you follow his lead?”

“He’s designated leader of my team. I had no choice.” His expression smoothed, though he still sounded defensive.

Torrin nodded. “And which one was he?”

“Toxyn has greenish-blue hair and is unusually tall for a Sarronti.”

Sara translated the conversation for Xorran, feeling almost sorry for the elf. He was little more than a child, and Torrin was seriously intimidating.

“Will Toxyn harm the females?”

“No.” Yet the elf’s hesitation spoke louder than his denial.

Sara shifted her weight from one foot to the other as anxiety bubbled up inside her. Heather might be safe from Toxyn, but the general was another matter.

“What was Toxyn trying to accomplish by stealing two of our females?”

“He’s a fool,” the elf snarled. “He’s so determined to make a name for himself that he doesn’t care who he hurts in the process.”

Challenge arched Torrin’s brows. “And yet you said he won’t harm our females.”

“He won’t be allowed to harm them. Once my father learns of my imprisonment, he’ll take control of the situation. I guarantee you’ll be dealing with him, not that idiot Toxyn.”

“How many fighters does your father command?”

“Thousands.” He glared and then amended, “Hundreds of thousands.”

One corner of Torrin’s mouth twitched, the reaction so subtle it was doubtful the elf noticed. An initial response was more accurate, and obviously Torrin knew. “Do you live below ground by choice or necessity?”

“We go where we will and live as we please.” With each exchange, the elf’s arrogance grew and his believability diminished. “You should pack up and leave this place before my father destroys you utterly.”

Torrin indulged in a lazy smile, clearly amused by the elf’s vehemence. “I thought Toxyn was the only Sarronti who makes war on women.”

The elf just glared.

The smile gradually faded and Torrin’s expression hardened. “We have a room onboard this ship equipped with ultraviolet light. It allows us to grow food while in space. How long will you survive if I lock you in the room?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I promised not to harm you if you answered my questions honestly. I suspect you just lied to me. Care to change your answer, or shall I find out for myself?”

“Sunlight is harmful to us,” the elf admitted after a tense pause.

“How harmful,” Torrin persisted. “How long will it take you to die? A few days or a few hours?”

“My tolerance is stronger than most. I’d last a week or more.”

Torrin accepted the information with a nod. “One of your females speaks English. How did she learn our language?”

For the next two hours Torrin questioned the elf. What little he revealed, Sara already knew, but it was nice to hear Arrista’s information confirmed by a second source. Finally, Torrin left the detention area and joined them in the control booth.

“He’s not going to say any more,” Torrin concluded. “He might be young, but he’s stubborn and prideful. He’ll die rather than endanger his people.”

Xorran nodded, his expression tight and thoughtful. “I know the overlord won’t be thrilled with the outcome, but thanks for your assistance.”

“Anytime.” Without another word the assassin-turned-interrogator left.

“So what’s our next move?” Sara asked.

Xorran shrugged, but his expression was anything but indifferent. A muscle twitched above his jaw and complex intensity smoldered in his dark eyes. “I guess Arton will contact Isolaund and propose the prisoner exchange.”

“And in the meantime Heather remains at the mercy of General Alonov.” Sara shook her head, frustration cutting through her helplessness. “We have to do more. There has to be a way to rescue her tonight.”

Xorran moved closer and lowered his voice, though the effort was likely wasted in such a small room. “We searched every inch of that forest. The entrance or entrances are there. We just can’t detect them.”

Reluctantly, she agreed. “I couldn’t see the exit we used seconds after we emerged from the Underground. They’re using some sort of shielding technology, or they can literally cast spells.”

“They will make the trade,” Xorran stressed. “Heather will be back with us very soon.”

Sara wanted to believe it. She just prayed “very soon” would be enough for Heather.

When they returned to the barracks, they found the overlord sitting against the wall, the karron cub curled up on his lap. The sight was so inconsistent with his ferocious reputation that Sara couldn’t help but smile.

“Any luck?” he asked, absently petting Weniffa’s soft fur.

Xorran responded before Sara could order her thoughts. “He confirmed a lot of what Arrista told Sara, but offered nothing new.”

The overlord nodded and carefully eased the cub off his lap. “I’ll let Arton know.” He stood and paused to stretch out his back. “You two need to figure out how to control the cub in the morning. This place will turn back into a construction zone, so leaving her here isn’t an option.”

“Understood,” Xorran replied.

“In fact, if returning her to Isolaund isn’t an option, you need to come up with long-term strategies for her too. She’ll need fresh meat and water, exercise and stimulation that doesn’t include mauling any of us.”

“Understood,” she echoed Xorran’s word, but didn’t manage to replicate his calm tone. The thought of waiting around for Arton to contact Isolaund was giving Sara an ulcer. She could still hear Heather’s terrified pleas as Arrista hurried Sara out the door. “Please let Arton know that time is of the essence. See if Isolaund will guarantee Heather’s safety. I’m really worried about her.”

“You focus on the karron. We’ll take care of Heather. You have my word that she is my top priority.”

His sincerity was small comfort in the face of all she knew. Still, she nodded and said, “Thank you.”

The overlord left a few minutes later, leaving Sara alone with Xorran. She sat near the karron cub, positioning herself much as the overlord had sat.

Xorran took several blankets off the stack of supplies and spread them next to her. “You should get some sleep. You look tired.” He motioned toward the pile of blankets.

Little wonder after all she’d been through in the past twenty-four hours. “I am exhausted,” she admitted as she scooted over onto the blankets. “But I’m too wound up to sleep. Does that make sense?”

He nodded, lips curving in a tentative smile. “I’ve been there many times.”

“I need to think of something other than Heather.” She sighed. “Can we just talk for a while?”

“Of course.” After an awkward pause, he pulled off his boots and joined her on the makeshift bed. “What would you like to talk about?”

She looked at him, struck again by his rugged good looks. He had a quiet intensity that smoldered, rather than blazed. He was controlled and disciplined, using only as much aggression as necessary. It was a trait many of the Outcasts lacked, and she found it surprisingly attractive. They stared at each other for a moment before she realized he was waiting for her to answer. “I know you haven’t been with the Outcasts very long. What made you join?”

He tensed, his gaze shifting to the wall directly in front of him. “I was in the RPDF for the majority of my life. It’s the only option for most battle born males.”

“The RPDF?” Almost without thought, she reached over and buried her fingers in the cub’s soft fur.

“Rodyte Planetary Defense Force. My homeworld’s military. I was taught to follow orders without hesitation and to protect the chain of command. I was dedicated and loyal, even after most of my friends had joined the rebellion. I’d made a promise, took a vow. That meant something to me.” Despite the devotion he described, pain shadowed his gaze.

“What happened?” It was obvious this wasn’t where the story ended.

“Military life suited me and I quickly fulfilled most of my goals. My last position was first officer aboard the Triumphant. My commander was Apex General Bidon Paytor.”

“Apex general? That sounds important.” She ran her hand along the cub’s back, soothed by the softness caressing her fingers.

“He commanded the entire Rodyte fleet and answered only to the planetary monarch.” His deep tone was filled with pride and a soft sort of wistfulness.

“Okay, so you worked for the head honcho.” She smiled. “Was he a good commander? Did you enjoy working for him?”

“I enjoyed being aboard the Triumphant. The ship was brand new and massive. It had capabilities that none of us had ever seen before.” He didn’t say any more for a long time, then added, “Paytor was...flawed. His pursuit of the rebels became an obsession he used to justify all sorts of rash and radical actions.”

“I can see why that would make you want to leave, but why join the Outcasts rather than the battle born rebellion?”

“I betrayed Paytor, made it possible for the rebels to capture him and take possession of the Triumphant. Even though I’d helped the rebels, to most I was still a traitor, unworthy of trust.”

She shook her head, absently stroking Wenny’s back. “That doesn’t make sense. If your actions benefited their cause, why wouldn’t they trust you?”

He shook his head. “I betrayed my commander. What’s to keep me from doing so again if the next enemy offers me more than the battle born have to give? Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

She narrowed her gaze and studied him. Despite being an outlaw gang, the Outcasts were actually picky about who they invited to join their ranks. If the overlord invited Xorran, then his decision to betray Paytor had to be justified. “Why did you switch sides? There’s usually a specific reason, a catalyst that motivates people to act. What was yours?”

“Paytor ordered me to assassinate someone. It wasn’t a military offensive. It was coldblooded murder.”

That made no sense at all. “You’re a tracker, not an assassin. Why wouldn’t he have sent someone like Torrin?”

“Long involved story that I’d rather not get into right—ever. I’m not that person anymore. Suffice it to say, my trust was misplaced and I’m thrilled to be parted from all of it.”

“Can I ask one final question about your past? It will be the last one, I promise.”

He sighed, long and loud, but said, “Sure.”

“Power like yours must be controlled. How did you learn how to use your abilities?”

“I was less than a year out of training when a crewmember didn’t report back in after a mission. His teammates insisted he hadn’t been captured and he was still on the planet where the mission took place. I instinctively knew where he was but explaining how I knew meant admitting I was clairvoyant. I struggled with the decision for many hours, but finally told my commander. He was shocked yet intrigued by the revelation, so he told his commander.” The story grew progressively more unpleasant after that, so he hesitated.

“What happened?”

“I was transferred to the science division and was ordered to allow whatever testing the doctors and scientists required. At that point my empathy was unimpressive, but a male being born with any active ability was highly unusual.”

“How long were you their guinea pig?”

“Four and a half years.” He looked at her, gaze filled with shame. Then he looked away. “When understanding my abilities wasn’t enough, they began augmenting them. It was even more horrendous than you can imagine, but it made me very powerful. Very useful.”

She reached over and touched his arm, waiting until he looked at her to say, “Your people betrayed you long before you turned on Paytor. I’m glad you joined the Outcasts. Rodytes don’t deserve you.”

Something in her words, or tone, made him smile. “The decision was easy. I refused to trade one master for another. I wanted an entirely different sort of life, the sort the Outcasts are trying to build.”

As the intensity of his confession faded, awareness returned. She felt the heat of his skin sink into her palm and the solid shape of his forearm beneath her fingers. She wanted to open his shirt and explore his amazing chest.

He raised his hand and stroked her cheek with the back of his knuckles. Then he slipped his hands under her arms and swung her toward him, bringing her across his lap, facing him. She quickly folded her legs to either side of his thighs and straddled his lap. He was so much taller than her that their eyes, and mouths, were nearly on a level. His hands settled on her hips, anchoring her in place without touching her any more intimately.

“Now you know what brought me here,” he told her. “I know you’re second guessing your decision, but why did you volunteer in the first place?”

Unable to resist her need to touch him, she placed her hands on his chest, then ran them up onto his broad shoulders. “My childhood and adolescence was a mostly pleasant sort of chaos. I had loving parents, but their generosity often spread them too thin, especially from the perspective of their children.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” His already deep voice took on a whispery growl that sent shivers down her spine. He still wasn’t touching her anywhere but her hips, yet the position was undeniably intimate. Restlessness set in, making it hard for her not to wiggle and rock, rub herself against him.

“I have three biological brothers, and there was a continual stream of other kids flowing in and out of our lives.” Rather than wait for him to voice his confusion, she clarified, “My mom and dad were what’s called foster parents. They took in children who had lost their parents, or whose parents were no longer taking care of them. Sometimes the foster kids would stay a few weeks. Sometimes they stayed several years. My parents were even willing to take on those with complicated medical issues, so the authorities took advantage of them.”

“It is honorable to help those in need, but I also see how it would have compromised their time with you and your biological siblings.”

“Mostly it was good for us. It taught us how to share and revealed how fortunate we were to have a loving family. So many had little or nothing. But I was the oldest, so a lot of the extra work fell on me. In a lot of ways I feel like I never had a childhood. I was a built-in babysitter and my parents had no problem taking advantage of the convenience.”

“Having so many children in their lives was your parents’ decision, not yours. It was unfair for them to force the responsibilities on you. That must have been horribly frustrating.”

“It was. It also left me longing for something entirely my own. I know that sounds selfish, maybe even petty, but I never had my own bedroom. Most of my clothes were secondhand. We weren’t poor, exactly. There were just so many places for the money to go, so many mouths to feed, and bodies to clothe. By the time I turned eighteen, I couldn’t wait to leave.”

He caught a lock of her long, dark hair and wrapped it around his finger. “How did you make your living once you left your parents’ home?”

If he wanted to talk, why had he dragged her onto his lap? She wanted to kiss him and wrap her legs around his waist so she could rub against him. “I work at an animal hospital. My upbringing left me with a need to help others. I chose animals and their caregivers.”

That seemed to surprise him. “Did Isolaund know this when she gave you the cub?”

She shook her head. “I told Arrista, but it was after we left Isolaund.”

He leaned forward slowly and her heart thudded in anticipation, but he angled away from her face and whispered in her ear. “You didn’t answer my original question. Why did you volunteer to mate with a rebel?”

Damn it. He was doing it on purpose, making her desperate for his kiss. Well, two could play that game! “I was getting there.” She wiggled closer, lightly pressing her breasts against his chest as she pushed one hand into his hair. “Because I left home so early, all I’d ever been able to afford were the basic necessities, tiny apartment, old beat-up car. I never went anywhere fun or did anything exciting. And my romances were about as memorable as everything else in my life. The transformation program was a chance to experience something new and extraordinary. And completely mine.”

A sexy smile slowly parted his lips and desire made his purple phitons shimmer. “None of that has changed. You just got a little more adventure than you expected. We want the same things, a partner in life, someone to share our hopes and dreams, maybe children someday. Do you really want to return to your boring existence on Earth?”

She thought about her shabby apartment and nonexistent social life. She liked her job, found it rewarding. But work was supposed to enrich her other interests, enable her to live life to the fullest. The problem was, she didn’t have anything in her life but work.

One of his brawny arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her even closer. “You’re already restless, so I suspect this is going to hit you hard. Don’t be afraid of the intensity. I won’t take advantage. I promise.”

She found his words odd and arrogant, until his mouth locked onto hers.