By

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Prologue

For a time the signature particular to living things was so faint that he wondered if it was only hope that made him believe what he wanted to believe, that, at long last, he was drawing near life forms from which he could take more than sustenance. He began to wonder if his wanderings had robbed him of his sanity and left him with nothing but the imaginings of a mind deprived too long of anything to feed upon beyond itself.

Regardless of his doubts, though, he turned to follow the faint ripples that called to him. There could be no harm in checking. He had nothing to lose but the loneliness that ate at him and seemed to drain him of will as quickly as he drew sustenance from the energy around him to maintain his life form.

The closer he came to the star system across the vast ocean of nothingness, however, the more certain he became that it was not his mind playing tricks upon him, filling him with hope that he had found a harbor when there was none for him.

There was life here.

He would be content, he told himself, if it was no more than the fragile beginnings of life. Even microbes would give his mind a challenge, would give him something when he had had nothing for so long that he could scarcely bear to look into his own mind any longer. He would study them and, once he understood the seedlings, mayhap he would experiment with them for a time, see what he might do to coax them into evolving.

Mayhap he would even build his own world, he thought.

That thought appealed to him as nothing had in eons.

His own world, a place in the vast universe cunningly contrived only for him where none would challenge his right to exist, where he need not forever concern himself that he trespassed. A place where he must always carefully guard what he was to keep from frightening the primitive beings that had claimed it first, or that he need worry that he might inadvertently crush.

Mayhap he could mold it into the image of his own world—lost so long ago that his memories of it had begun to dim and he had begun to worry it might be lost even to his memory.

It was born in upon him, however, even as he began to consider that possibility and to toy with the puzzle of how he might bring it about, that the life forms he had sensed were much more advanced than mere microbes. These were complex organisms, life forms with intelligence, far more advanced than the race of beings he had left behind.

It wasn’t a world at all. They had devised a habitat to support their life forms far from their own world.

How clever of them!

The realization sent a surge of emotion through his mind that he had not felt in so long that it took him a time to figure out what it was. Excitement, he finally decided, almost disturbed that it sent such a powerful ripple through his psyche that he nearly produced a heartbeat, became aware of his corporeal form as he had not been for ages.

He tamped it.

The meager energy he could draw was barely enough to sustain the spark of life within him. Until he understood what sort of beings they were, he could not afford to allow them to discover him when he was so weak. He was vulnerable. In his current state, it would be all too easy for them to extinguish the life force he had so carefully husbanded throughout his long travels.

Intelligence did not necessarily eliminate the possibility that they would be hostile to another life form, he reminded himself.

Chapter One

There was an air of almost hysterical excitement threading the party in progress in the dining/rec hall of the space station dubbed Last Stop by the crew. Jubilation filled the hearts of even the most levelheaded and serious among the twenty souls aboard the station on the outer rim of the solar system officially named SP-13, Staging Platform 13. And, although, technically, there was supposed to be a skeleton crew on duty to monitor the myriad of specialized equipment that had just come fully online, in actuality everyone was partying.

Medical Officer, Anya Rambo felt a stirring of uneasiness as she spied three more of the duty crew slipping into the room and sidling as unobtrusively as possible toward the spiked punch bowl.

That made it unanimous. There wasn’t a single soul on board the space station that hadn’t imbibed—including her. She was never really off duty, however, since she was the only medic on the station and she never drank more than ‘sociably’, not as sociably as some people who called themselves social drinkers. Rather, she accepted the drink handed to her and sipped it slowly and rarely indulged in more than one, even when she was technically off duty.

She’d learned from hard experience that she couldn’t afford, ever, to completely relax because the moment she decided to behave irresponsibly someone got sick or someone got hurt.

With a strenuous effort, she shook off her uneasiness. The shields were up and besides, they were at the very frontier of open space. It was highly unlikely that anything could possibly go wrong—now.

When they’d arrived at the space station nearly a year ago to replace the previous crew, the station had only been about seventy five percent complete. They’d been expected to bring SP-13 up to one hundred percent completion within the year, and they’d done it in ten and half months.

They had every reason to celebrate. Not only had they brought the job in weeks early, but now they could look forward to going home.

Anya felt her own pulse quicken at the thought.

Only three months and she’d feel real gravity pulling at her again, be breathing real air, not tanked in—sort of. At least once she set foot on Terra Firma again, she could walk outside if only briefly. It would be fall, her favorite time of the year. In the deep south where she’d grown up, it would still be hot during the day, but pleasantly crisp at night. The leaves on the trees would be turning. The sunsets would be stunning.

Wryly, she smiled. It was the little girl still in her that got such a thrill out of the fall. Fall was festival time. The fairs and carnivals made their rounds—or at least had in her childhood. And then there were the holidays.

Ironically, even though the ancient mythologies that had spawned the celebrations were all but forgotten by the vast majority of those who celebrated them, everyone still hailed the holidays with enthusiasm.

She did, even though she hadn’t had anyone much to celebrate with in years. Her family hadn’t exactly been prolific and those still living were scattered to the four winds.

She made it a point to join her sister’s family when she could, though, and sometimes her brother even made it to the ‘gathering’.

Her niece and nephew weren’t going to know her when she got back. They’d been so young when she left, she knew they wouldn’t remember their Aunt Anya. The thought caused her a pang and she pushed it aside, smiling as Laine caught her eye across the room and began to make his way toward her.

Captain Tim Laine had more than his fair share of charm, and he’d been kind enough to bestow it upon Anya at every opportunity. She wasn’t really interested in becoming another notch on his bedpost, though.

Well—she was. She found him attractive. Unfortunately, their community was a painfully small one, too small for such a thing to go unnoticed. And Laine had already made the rounds among the other female crewmembers—a couple of times. She didn’t mind the idea of recreational sex. In fact, she was damned horny and the punch wasn’t helping, but she preferred a privacy that was non-existent aboard the space station. She supposed that made her a spoil sport, because half the fun everyone had on board was gossiping about who was getting it.

They called her the Ice Maiden behind her back, and they weren’t terribly subtle about it either. She viewed the sobriquet with a mixture of irritation and amusement, mostly because it was so childish. One would think people would eventually outgrow the inclination to call names, but obviously they never did.

“I’m surprised you joined us, but glad,” Laine murmured as he reached her, giving her one of his practiced ‘undressing’ gazes.

As certain as she was that it was practiced, Anya still felt her pulse jump upwards a notch.

He was good. She’d give him that. It didn’t hurt that he was also pretty much the best looking male on the space station—not that he had a lot of competition in that department. The crew hadn’t been chosen for their appearance but rather their expertise and beauty so rarely went with brains!

She smiled coolly. “Mmm. Even the Ice Maiden likes punch,” she responded a little tartly, knowing he was the one who’d first coined the name the crew enjoyed bandying about behind her back.

He had the grace to redden slightly. He shrugged. “If the name bothers you ….”

Anya chuckled. “I’ve got nothing to prove. But thanks for offering.”

He frowned, taking a long drink from his glass. “Recreational sex is good for morale.”

“But I’m a bitch,” she reminded him. “You know, cold. And I’m sort of choosy about who I let inside of me.”

His good humor vanished. “You are aware that it’s expected?”

“Unofficially, of course.”

“They told me you weren’t a team player.”

Anya chuckled, but shrugged. “Individuality still isn’t a crime, though. As I said, I’m picky, and I’m just not so needy for release that I’m willing to take what’s available. I can wait.”

Anger glittered in his eyes, but he kept his face a mask of amusement. “Mind if I ask who you’re saving it for?”

“No.”

“Who?”

She smiled at him. “I said I didn’t mind if you asked. I didn’t say I’d answer. Excuse me? I think I’ll just go check and make sure the duty crew’s still sober enough to read their instrument panels.”

That comment really ticked him off. As taken aback as he was by her abrupt departure, he fell into step beside her as she left the rec room and headed down the corridor toward main operations. “You’re overstepping your bounds, Rambo,” he said tightly.

Anya sent him a look of surprise that was only partly feigned. “You object to me checking to make sure we don’t have a drunk manning the monitors?”

His lips tightened. “Nobody’s had more than two drinks.”

“So you did see them sneaking in to imbibe?”

He caught her arm, dragging her to a stop and pulling her around to face him. “I know my duties,” he ground out.

“Well, if my checking on them is just going to piss ….” She didn’t get the rest of the sentence out. The station’s alarm system blared to life deafeningly.

It went through both of them like a current of electricity. For a split second, they merely stared at one another in shock. Abruptly, their brains kicked into gear almost simultaneously and they whirled and charged down the corridor to the nearest emergency suit storage. Diving through the door even as it opened, they managed to wedge themselves in momentarily.

The hysterical urge to giggle rose threateningly in Anya’s throat as they struggled for a moment and finally managed to separate. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a suit and began to scramble into it. In the corridor outside, despite the earsplitting alarm, she heard the stampede of racing feet. Moments later the rest of the crew, as white faced and shaken as she was, bottle necked in the doorway for several moments before they succeeded in untangling themselves and began to spill into the small room.

About half of them were well on their way to being drunk—drunk enough they were having problems staying on their feet and figuring out closures. Directly beside her, Melanie giggled drunkenly as she lost her balance and fell into the wall of suits, landing on the floor with one foot in the sleeve of her suit.

The incident killed Anya’s own hysteria. She stared indecisively at Melanie for a split second and finally knelt to help her get into her suit. In the close confines, it was no easy task, particularly when Melanie was in no state to be much help. Leaving her to figure out the closure for herself once she had her arms and legs in the suit, Anya wove her way down the line and grabbed two air tanks and helmets, securing her own and checking her air gauge before she headed back to help Melanie.

Captain Laine grabbed her arm when she reached Melanie again. “Make sure everyone’s in their suits and the suits are functioning properly,” he said curtly.

Anya nodded, but he hadn’t stayed to make sure she understood the order. As soon as he’d issued it he began to shove his way toward the door and disappeared into the corridor. A little more than half the crew managed to get into their suits without help. Most of them dashed out, however, the moment they’d suited up. Anya managed to waylay four and directed them to help the less fortunate crew members, but the moment they’d finished, they eluded her and dashed off.

Furious to be left to manage almost a half dozen thoroughly intoxicated crew members by herself, Anya made a stab at corralling them in the Rec room and finally gave up when she saw the impossibility of controlling them.

The alarm was reset. Her ears numb from the sudden cessation of blaring noise, Anya headed for main operations.

Operations was in chaos when she finally reached it. Realizing almost at once that it was a waste of time to try to ask anyone what was going on, she found a place out of the way and listened and observed.

“Where the hell did it come from?”

“How big is it?”

“About a meter wide, two long, half a meter deep. It’s regular. Too regular to be a meteor.”

“A probe?”

“Can’t tell.”

“From it’s trajectory I’d say we’ll be up close and personal pretty soon.”

“Is it going to hit us?” Laine demanded sharply.

Carol’s face was white as she looked up at him. “I … it looks like it.”

Anya felt the blood freeze in her veins. The shields were up, but they hadn’t been designed to withstand the impact of anything that big. They hadn’t expected to have to worry about anything but micro meteors—and not really that, if the truth be told.

“Fuck! Fire the engines and see if we can move this fat, clumsy bitch out of it’s way!”

“Engine one firing! Two firing! Three firing!”

A faint quiver went through the floor.

Everyone held their breath.

“Engine four?” Captain Laine demanded, obviously too impatient to wait any longer.

“Misfire!”

“Reset, god damn it!”

“It’s not responding.”

“Fuck! Did you check that damned engine or not?”

“It was working fine when we checked it, Sir!”

Captain Laine stalked across the bridge and shoved the ensign out of the way, checking the instrument panel himself. On his third try he managed to get the engine to fire.

Anya was only slightly relieved, however. The SP-13 was a space platform, meant to remain in stationary orbit, not fly. Even with every engine firing it seemed unlikely they could move the unwieldy thing out of the way in time to do them any good.

“What are you doing here?” Captain Laine snapped.

It took Anya a moment to realize he was snarling at her. “I didn’t know I was forbidden the bridge,” she replied finally.

“I told you to see about the others,” he growled.

“And I did. Everyone’s suited up—correctly. I checked them myself.”

She could see his lips tighten despite the glare of the lighting on his face shield.

“Where are they now?”

Annoyance threaded through her. “I tried to contain them in the Rec room, but they weren’t cooperative. I’ve got no idea.”

He glared at her. “You let them wander loose when you know they’re too drunk to be responsible?”

Anya’s eyes narrowed. “Do I look like a fucking gorilla to you?”

He looked for several moments as if he was contemplating violence against her. Finally, he turned and glanced around the room. “Ensign Cooper, Airman Vance—go with Dr. Rambo and help her contain the crew members who overindulged.”

Both men came to their feet at once. “The brig?” Cooper asked.

“Confine them to their quarters.”

“The Rec room would be better if we have to abandon the station. They’d all be in one place for evac,” Anya suggested.

Instead of responding, Laine glanced at the navigator, Cpl. Carol Nix. “How long till impact?”

Carol blinked several times and began cross checking her data. “It’s moving at sub light speed. The computer estimates two hours.”

“That’s time enough for them to sober up,” Laine said decisively. “Confine them to their quarters and let them sleep it off.”

Dismissed, Anya led the way. They met Melanie halfway back to the Rec room.

“Hey! Where’d everybody go? They move the party or what?”

As irritated as she was with her friend, she managed a wry smile. “Party’s over, Mel. The captain ordered you to your quarters.”

Melanie stared at her owl eyed for several moments. “Why?”

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Anya slipped an arm through Melanie’s. “Because you’re drunk, that’s why.”

“Oh,” Melanie said, docilely allowing Anya to lead her back down the corridor. “I thought that was the objective of the day,” she added in a slightly slurred voice.

“It was, but we’ve got trouble now.”

Melanie frowned. “What kinda trouble?”

Irritation flickered through Anya. “I’m not completely sure myself. The alarms while ago were for a collision alert, though. Something’s coming at us.”

“Out here?” Melanie asked blankly. “The relief crew ain’t scheduled for … uh … weeks.”

“It isn’t a ship—not unless it’s carrying munchkins.”

Melanie snickered. “What’re munchkins?”

“Little tiny people,” Anya answered promptly, smiling.

They ran into a problem when they reached Melanie’s quarters. “Don’t take your suit off!” Anya said sharply when Melanie began to struggle with the fastenings.

Melanie looked up at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I can’t sleep in this thing!”

“Yes, you can. And you’re going to.”

“The whole damned thing?”

After a little thought, Anya disengaged the helmet and removed it, then helped her to remove the air tanks. “If the alarm sounds again, you put these on immediately. Understood?”

Melanie nodded, but Anya doubted she was really listening. As soon as Anya relieved her of them, she crawled onto her bunk and curled up.

“I’ll come if the alarm sounds again, but don’t wait for me. Put on the rest of your gear.”

Melanie yawned.

Anya almost envied her. She’d managed to project a surface calm, but deep down she was scared shitless. Whatever it was heading toward them was traveling fast enough it could demolish the station if it hit them squarely.

Seeing Melanie was either already asleep or halfway there, she left her friend’s quarters and locked it down. It made her nauseous to do so knowing they might or might not have time to gather everybody up if they’d miscalculated on anything, but Melanie wasn’t in full possession of her facilities and, with her judgment impaired, she could be a threat to herself and others.

That assessment was born up when she located Cooper and Vance dragging a barely conscious Tony Russo toward his quarters. “Where’d you find him?”

“Trying to figure out how to get the airlock open,” Cooper said with disgust. “The moron had decided to take a stroll outside.”

Anya felt a fresh wave of fear wash over her. “God! Where are the others?”

“We’ve already got them in their quarters. Russo’s the only one that gave us any trouble,” Vance responded.

Relieved of that anxiety, Anya wanted nothing so much as to dash back up to the bridge to discover what was going on. Instead, she hurried to the med lab, checked to make sure she had plenty of supplies on hand for whatever type of injuries she thought they might be looking at in the event the station was struck. The med lab was in order, though, and well stocked.

Leaving again, she headed down to the hanger to check to see what supplies were on board the ship. They’d completed their mission in record time, but they hadn’t been scheduled to leave until the next crew arrived, and they weren’t expected for weeks. She doubted any preparations had even been started for departure.

The sound of vigorous activity greeted her when she reached the hanger deck, however, and she discovered that Captain Laine had risen to the occasion despite the fact that he hadn’t been entirely sober. Three crew members were frenziedly prepping the ship in case of need.

Without surprise, she discovered there wasn’t anything on board but a first aid kit, a bottle of pain killers, and few rolls of bandages. Heading toward the supply room, she gathered up everything she could carry and raced back to the ship. She was winded from rushing as she made trip after trip and fearful that she was too frightened to properly assess the situation, but she could almost feel the minutes ticking by. Instead of trying to figure out and anticipate needs, she grabbed as much of everything as she could carry and stocked every shelf and drawer until she could barely close them.

It dawned on her when she finally paused to rest that they weren’t going to be using the ship unless the station became useless.

And that meant the crew coming to relieve them, which was already well past the point of no return, probably wouldn’t have what they needed to get back to the next station.

She hurried after Morgan. “Did Laine tell you to stock extra fuel cells and food for the crew of the Miranda?”

Morgan glanced at her impatiently, but she could see the moment it clicked in his mind. “He just said prep the ship for emergency evac.”

Nodding, Anya tried to reach the captain on the communicator. After a few moments, she realized he must have taken his helmet off and moved to the wall unit. He glared at her as his image appeared on the screen. “What is it now?”

“The Miranda’s already on the way here. Shouldn’t we take on extra supplies for them in case the station …?”

He looked annoyed that she’d thought of it and he hadn’t. “It’ll make take off sluggish if we overload it,” he ground out to cover the fact that he hadn’t thought about the other crew.

“Maybe so, but we have to consider that they might not have enough supplies on board to make an unscheduled trip back to SP-12.”

“Do it!” he snapped and cut the connection before she could ask him what the situation was.

“He’s concerned about overloading,” she said as she turned to Morgan again. “See if you can get half again as much as what we’ll need. They’re still three weeks out. They won’t have had time to use up what they’ve got.”

Her stomach was in knots of anxiety and the urge to dash up to the bridge was nearly unbearable, but she forced herself to stay and help supply the ship, knowing there should have been twice as many people working on it as they had.

Seeing after a while that there was no way in hell the four of them were going to get the ship prepped in under two hours, she left the three men loading and rushed back up to the bridge. It would’ve been far more efficient to have called the captain again, but he was focused entirely upon the situation on the bridge. She was breathless by the time she arrived and sweating inside her suit.

Removing the helmet, she stood just inside the door for several moments.

“Give me the latest calculations!” Laine barked at Nix.

Carol worked at her computer for a moment and then stared blankly at the readout.

“Well?” Laine demanded impatiently.

Carol lifted her head, blinking several times. “It’s slowed down, Sir.”

Laine, everyone on the bridge, froze and turned to stare at her. “You’ve done something wrong!” Laine said tersely.

“I didn’t! I’ve run the numbers three times, Sir. That thing, whatever it is, it’s slowing down … and its changed directions. It’s still heading straight for us!”

“That’s impossible!” Laine ground out, surging out of his chair. “Didn’t you say you couldn’t detect any propulsion?” he asked, rounding on Phil Perkins.

Perkins gaped at him, blinking while his mind tabulated. “There’s no heat. Unless it’s got some kind of propulsion capabilities that don’t emit heat, it’s got no propulsion, Sir!”

Stalking to Carol’s station, Laine commanded her to run the figures again.

He stared at the readout without comprehension when it came up. Lifting his head, he glanced blindly around the room, obviously struggling with the information. “Run a diagnostic on your system,” he said shortly and stalked across the bridge.

“Smith! You got a visual yet? It should be damned close by now.”

Smith narrowed his eyes, focusing intently on his viewing screen. “No, Sir! Wait! I think I see something.”

Almost as one, everyone on the bridge strained forward, trying to see what Smith had seen. “Bring it up on the big screen.”

Anya’s belly did a nose dive toward her toes as the screen winked on. Little besides a velvety blackness filled the screen. It was like looking into a black hole. She’d known they were at the very edge of the solar system, but the few times she’d looked out, she’d looked toward home—not the endless space beyond their system.

It took an effort to make herself stare at that emptiness, but she ignored the cringing of her stomach and peered at the screen until movement finally directed her gaze to the object.

“Diagnostic complete,” Carol announced. “No problems detected, Sir.”

“Run the program again,” Laine growled without taking his eyes off the screen. “What the hell is that that thing?” he muttered to no one in particular.

“A torpedo?” someone asked.

“Slowing down?” Carol demanded. “Because it is. It’s dropped to sub sonic speed, Sir.”

Anya examined the dark object on the viewing screen. “It looks like a coffin,” she said finally.

Laine turned and stared at Anya. “What are you doing back up here? Don’t you have something to do?”

Anya’s lips tightened. “I’ve checked out the medical stores on both the station and the ship. I came to see if you could send a few more crew members down to help prep the ship in case we have to evac. There’s no way the four of us can manage it in the time we have.”

Laine looked irritated. After glancing around the room, he apparently decided to ignore her. “We’ve got a situation here. I can’t afford to put anybody else on it right now.”

Anya was tempted to point out that they couldn’t afford not to have the ship ready either, but it had begun to seem less likely that they were in danger of a collision … or at least in danger of a catastrophic collision. Carol marked another drop in the speed of the thing.

“Any sign of propulsion now?”

“Negative,” Perkins responded.

“What the hell is it?” Laine growled in frustration.

“And where did it come from?” Anya added.

Chapter Two

“Three degrees port,” Laine ordered after a lengthy silence.

“One degree,” the man at the helm called back. Minutes passed. “Two degrees.”

Anya found herself straining to help the clumsy station turn, her muscles taut with useless effort. Mildly embarrassed, she discovered everyone else was leaning, as well, as if they could help the station by sheer force of will.

“Three degrees,” ‘Burke’ Burkehalter announced after several more tense minutes had passed.

“Check it, Nix.”

“It’s still coming at us. Still decreasing speed.”

Laine dragged his attention from the viewing screen and stared at her as if he was fighting the urge to demand she check it again.

“Sir! The computer’s estimating impact in twenty minutes at the current speed! And it’s coming in hot, whatever it is!”

“Smart torpedo?” Perkins guessed.

Everybody in the room turned to stare at him in wide eyed horror.

Laine shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense! Coming from deep space? Anybody picking up anything else out there?”

“Negative, Sir!”

The alarms cut loose again, nearly making everyone jump out of their skin.

“Shut it off!” Laine yelled.

The silence when the alarm was shut off was nearly deafening. “Nix you got a fix on where it’s likely to hit us?”

Carol Nix ran her calculations. “Oh God! The bay!”

For a split second everyone froze. “Evac! NOW!” Laine bellowed.

Anya, standing near the door, whirled to run and still almost got mowed down by the stampede for the exit. “What about the crew members confined to quarters?” she yelled as everyone shoved past her and raced down the corridor.

“Grab anybody that can move fast!” Laine bellowed to no one in particular. “The ship leaves in five minutes whether everybody’s on board or not!”

A flicker of outrage ran through Anya, but she didn’t have time to vent. She headed for Melanie’s quarters. Thankfully, the second alarm had roused her. When Anya opened the door, she found Melanie struggling with her air tanks and helmet. Grabbing her friend by one arm, she dragged her from her quarters and hurried toward the docking bay, wondering if they were only going to manage to assemble there for annihilation rather than evacuation.

She slowed to unlock the doors where the other drunken crewmembers had been locked up. Three others had been rousted. Two, Mitchner and Russo were so out of it, punching and screaming at them had no effect. Grabbing Melanie’s arm again, she focused on getting the two of them to the docking bay before the ship left without them.

Anya and Melanie reached the docking bay just as the gang plank was beginning to withdraw. Screaming curses, Anya dragged Melanie into an awkward run and raced for the ship.

To her relief, the gangplank paused and extended again and she raced into the ship with Melanie, scrambling to find a seat to strap herself in even as she heard the mechanical whirs that told her the hatch had locked in place and the bay doors were opening. The ship’s engines roared to life as she struggled frantically with her belt and the ship shot from the bay into space before the bay door had even completely opened, nearly peeling the roof off the ship.

Melanie, Anya discovered when she was finally able to focus on something other than her own hide, was still struggling with her helmet and air tanks, but thankfully she still had them. There was oxygen in the ship, but it was far too dangerous not to be suited up when they had no idea whether the thing coming at them would hit them or not. Shifting, she took the helmet from Melanie and settled it and fastened it then adjusted the air tanks.

When the captain decided they’d reached a safe distance, he turned the ship and pulled up the viewer. The lozenge shaped object, almost as black as the space around it except for the light reflecting off its glossy surface, slammed into the hull less than three meters from the hatch they’d exited minutes before, pierced it, and disappeared into the space station.

Everyone watched in frozen shock, expecting any moment to see SP-13 disintegrate before their eyes. Minutes passed. Anya hardly breathed. Someone released a shaky laugh. “It didn’t blow! It must be a dud!”

“It wasn’t a torpedo, lame brain!” someone muttered.

“Well, what the hell is it, then?”

“It’s in our damned space station is what it is!” someone else muttered.

Thirty minutes passed, then an hour. Restlessness began to replace the terror that had gripped everyone as they’d fled the space station.

“We didn’t finish prepping the ship,” one of the crew members volunteered. “What do we do now?”

“If it was going to blow, wouldn’t it have done that when it hit?”

“Cut the chit chat, ladies!” Laine snarled. “Russo?”

“He’s still on the station,” Anya said curtly.

“Shit! Who else knows explosives?”

“Mitchner.”

“He’s on the fucking station, too!” Anya snapped.

She could hear someone grinding their teeth in her ear piece.

“Volunteers?”

Five minutes passed in complete silence.

Laine unbuckled his restraints and got out of his seat. “Burk, you’re in charge until I get back.” He glanced over the other crew members. “Vance, you just volunteered to come with me.”

Someone muttered a curse under their breath. Anya suspected it was Vance. “I’ll go, too,” she found herself saying, wondering if she’d lost her mind.

“You stay here with the others,” Laine said curtly, “unless you happen to know something about explosives that I’m not aware of?”

“I don’t know any more than you do, but I can run a scan on the thing and see what’s in it.”

“The computer will run the scan,” Laine retorted.

She didn’t really want to take a space walk, and she sure as hell didn’t like the idea of approaching whatever that thing was, but she felt a compulsion to go. “None of us are exactly safe. They didn’t have time to completely prep the ship,” she pointed out.

The captain stared at her a long moment and apparently caught the undercurrents of her comments—that three less on the ship not fully prepped meant better odds for the others. Finally, he nodded.

The trip across from the ship to the station was probably the most terrifying ordeal of Anya’s life. The utter blackness, the endlessness of the darkness set her teeth on edge. She had to quell the urge to chatter only for the comfort of hearing her own voice, but she did, knowing that the more she talked, the more of her oxygen she’d use.

As unnerved as she was at the idea of entering the station with that thing on board, it was still a relief to get inside. The impact had caused far less damage than she’d expected, but it had succeeded in wrecking enough of the bay to knock out the computer and lighting on that deck. With the hull breached, they were also locked out of the remainder of the ship.

She was glad she’d had the forethought to bring some of her instruments with her, including a small portable scanner. Otherwise, she would’ve had to have returned to the ship for it and she thought she might have been mindless with terror making two more trips through space.

They found the alien object resting near where the nose of their ship would’ve been if they hadn’t pulled out. Anya didn’t doubt Laine felt vindicated by that discovery since it supported his decision to bail out before the thing hit. If he hadn’t ordered the evac they would’ve been stranded until they could’ve repaired the ship—if they could’ve repaired it.

A shiver skated down her spine as they approached the thing, raking their portable lights over it. It was impossible to tell what the thing was made of. It could have been metal, but it didn’t look like any metal Anya had ever seen. It looked more like polished stone of some kind.

She didn’t doubt it was a capsule of some sort, however, and the sense washed over her again that it looked more like a coffin than anything else—except that it wasn’t boxy at all, more lozenge shaped. When they had reached it and flashed their lights over it more carefully, she saw that the entire surface of the thing was covered with markings.

She glanced up at Laine. “What do you make of this?”

He shook his head. “Writing?”

The moment he said it, she knew it was, but it wasn’t like any writing she’d ever seen.

The thought had no sooner materialized in her mind than she realized it was vaguely familiar somehow. She just couldn’t place it.

Kneeling beside it, the three of them searched carefully for some sign of an opening or device that would make it open. When they had each checked it thoroughly, they sat back and stared at each other, for none of them had found any sign that it would open at all. The object looked to be solid.

Anya knew it wasn’t. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did. She was also certain that it contained something, and was not merely an obelisk. Extracting the portable scanner she’d brought, she settled it on the topmost surface. Before she could activate it, Laine stopped her.

“Wait!”

Anya looked up at him in surprise.

“You and Vance move back as far as you can. I’ll scan it.”

“Why?” Anya demanded suspiciously.

His lips tightened. “In case the beam sets it off.”

Vance didn’t argue. He’d already headed toward the far side of the bay.

“There’s nothing inside to be set off,” Anya said with a certainty even she wondered at.

“Just give me the damned thing before I write you up for insubordination. Why the hell you have to argue about every damn thing, I sure as hell don’t know, Rambo, but you’re really starting to piss me off!”

“Fine!”

Slapping the scanner into his hand, she stalked across the bay to take up a position near Vance.

Despite her certainty that the object contained nothing they need fear would explode, Anya waited tensely as Laine slowly scanned it. When he’d finished, he merely remained still, staring at the read out.

“What is it?” she asked finally when she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.

There was a lengthy pause before he answered. “Damned it I know. Either nothing’s inside, this scanner’s broke, or I used it wrong. I’m not getting anything.”

Anya surged forward at once. When she reached Laine, she held out her hand. “Let me see.”

He was right. There weren’t any readings. Adjusting the scanner to full power, Anya did her own scan. This time the scan picked up just enough to assure her the object was hollow, but not empty. “It’s a capsule, and there’s something inside.”

“What?” Laine demanded, moving around the black lozenge to stare at the readout over her shoulder.

“I can’t tell—nothing living.”

“Well hell, Rambo! I could’ve figured that out!”

Anya’s lips tightened with irritation. “I meant, no sign of organisms we need be concerned about. Whatever this thing is made out of, though, its nothing we’ve ever encountered and the scan can’t really be relied on. I need to get it up to med lab and use the big gun.”

“No fucking way!” Vance put in his two cents worth. “We’re going to ditch it, ain’t we Captain? This thing gives me the creeps.”

“You can’t be serious!” Anya demanded. “Look at it! This is an alien artifact! We’ve been oh so carefully avoiding saying it, but we all know it is! Aside from the fact that it came from deep space, the writing—or whatever that is all over the outside—and the materials it’s made of are dead giveaways! No way is control going to go for us dumping it like so much space debris!”

Laine gave her a look that she had no problem interpreting as a deep seated desire to throttle her even in the inadequate lighting. “I agree with you, Vance. I’m not convinced it isn’t dangerous, but she’s right. And something tells me she’s going to take the first opportunity to report it. I don’t think we’ve got a choice.”

The sense of triumph had barely begun to invade Anya when he spoke again. “We don’t have to do anything more than take it back, though. I’m sure as hell not hauling this thing inside the main station with us!”

* * * *

There was more than enough energy here, he realized, to supply his needs, and yet—caution—he told himself. He must be careful.

They were an intelligent species, far more advanced than any that he had encountered in all his travels. They were an unknown quantity. He could not be certain that they would not instantly detect the drain upon their resources.

They did not have the physical senses to do so, he was almost certain. If they had, they would have had no need for all the machines that they had devised to compensate for their physical limitations.

There was still a grain of doubt and, in any case, there were the machines.

Beyond that, he had learned his lesson. These life forms were doubtless as fragile as those on the world he’d fled. If he brought harm to them, however inadvertently, they would hate and fear him as the others had, shun him, flee from him, and he would still be alone.

He needed … acceptance if he was to have the chance to walk among them.

How to go about it, though, when he was not as they were?

The doubt was almost as seductive as the endless possibilities.

He drank, very carefully pulling just enough energy into himself to begin to regain his strength, but he found that he couldn’t completely contain his impatience. It had been too long since he had had anything to challenge his mind.

He needed to see the treasure he had found. He needed to study them, he told himself, to learn what they would accept and what they would not, to begin to understand the way their minds worked and what their customs were.

When he had gathered enough strength to safely do so without endangering the slow reawakening of his corporal self, he separated his psyche from his weaker physical form, and looked about him with interest.

Pleasure wafted through him when he beheld the beings he had found. Such excitement followed through him that he was almost giddy with it.

They were like him—in the physical sense, in any case.

When he was certain they had no awareness of his spirit form, he moved closer to examine them more carefully.

Having studied their forms meticulously, he was more convinced. A cosmic fluke, he wondered?

Or had his people visited their world long ago? Perhaps manipulated their development as he had considered doing when he had not known that the life forms he detected were already so evolved?

Ruthlessly, he tamped the spark of hope he felt within him.

His people were gone, just as his world had vanished.

These people did not carry the seed of his race. If they had, surely they would have passed down more of his race’s traits than the physical? Surely, no matter how weakened the strain, they would have had some of the heightened senses that he had himself? The would know the beziartre. These beings, so far as he could tell, beyond being every bit as fragile as the others he had found, had no awareness beyond those senses their physical bodies gave them. They could not see or even sense his presence. Their energy aura was so weak he could not help but wonder how it even sustained the bodies.

He tamped his disappointment with an effort. It did not matter. He had long since, he thought, accepted that there were no others like himself in existence.

At least physically these beings were close enough to give him comfort in familiarity.

It was a true joy to look upon beings that so nearly resembled those from his memory that he could almost feel as if he had come home at long last.

If he was careful, he could walk among them as one of them, find acceptance, exist, finally, as a part of a living world and cease his lonely wandering.

Perhaps find a mate among them, he thought as he studied the females, feeling a stirring of another emotion he hadn’t felt in many an age—the interest of a male for a female? Enthralled by the concept of producing his own offspring, which he had never considered before, he wandered the ship, searching to see if he could find one that appealed to him enough to actually consider bestowing his seed upon her.

Not that it really mattered whether he found one here or not. It was clear from the thoughts he intercepted that they came from a world teaming with possibilities.

He had just decided that he might as well wait to make his choice until he had seen what their world had to offer when he spied a female that stopped him in his tracks.

For what seemed an endless time, he could only stare at her in appreciation akin to awe. Finally, because he could not seem to help himself, he approached her. Resisting the urge to touch, or to encroach too closely upon her mind for fear she would detect his presence, he moved around her, studying her carefully from every angle, almost as enthralled by the emotions that flitted across her expressive face as he was the thoughts that flickered through her mind.

But not nearly as enthralled by either as he was her form.

Desire, he finally decided, pleased when he identified the heady emotion. He felt lust for her, not merely interest. He was almost as intrigued by the fact that he had so readily identified an emotion that he had not felt in so long that he had almost forgotten it, had never really felt as he did now, as he was by the effect it had upon his psyche.

He felt—hunger that had nothing to do with survival.

Anya. He savored the melody of her name when he had plucked it from the minds around him. And, because he could not contain his impatience, or tamp the fear that he would find only disappointment if he allowed himself to merely imagine what sort of creature she was, he very carefully probed her thoughts. Intrigued, he moved a little deeper, piercing her subconscious mind for the memories recorded there.

They unfolded for him like the delicate, deliciously scented petals of a breeybic, each a joy of discovery and when he had finished, he felt … drawn by the warmth in her, needy in a sense that he could not entirely grasp. But the want he understood. The desire to have her as if she was a shiny treasure he had discovered, he grasped.

A sense of possessiveness moved through him, solidified, became an absolute certainty.

She was the one.

* * * *

On a personal level, Captain Laine looked upon her as a tight ass, up tight bitch. On a professional level, he looked upon her as a pain in the ass, which meant he didn’t particularly care for her on either a personal or a professional level, Anya reflected.

She didn’t especially care. She had a fairly low opinion of him, as well, on both levels. She had enough trouble dealing with him as it was, though. So, although it had chaffed her to refrain from volunteering her opinion regarding the obelisk and demanding the right of first examination of the alien artifact because she’d been one of those who’d ‘found’ it, she’d behaved when she and Laine had filed the report.

She was counting on control being as excited about the find as she was and ordering her to do a preliminary examination. That way, she wouldn’t be adding fodder to the problems she was already experiencing with Laine. Unfortunately, if she’d misguessed, she was going to have to break ranks and demand the right to examine the piece, because there was no way she was going to miss this opportunity even if it meant being at loggerheads with Laine.

She supposed, if she’d really been smart, she would’ve just given the prick what he wanted. She knew damned well the only reason he wanted to fuck her so badly was because she’d been completely unmoved by his none too subtle moves on her. She knew he mostly wanted her because he couldn’t stand the possibility that not every female he came across wanted him. She also knew that it would only have taken the one capitulation to divert his interests elsewhere. But it would also have diffused the animosity he radiated whenever he was anywhere near her. Very likely, they would still have had some conflict simply because he found her personality an irritant, and because she had no respect for him because he was her polar opposite.

He had some skills and some sense of responsibility, not much in the way of honor or respect for others or even compassion for his fellow man. He was as cold in his self-centeredness as he accused her of being only because she wouldn’t fall into bed with him and spread her legs.

It wasn’t his great intellect and skills, contrary to what he believed, that saved his ass time and time again. It was barely adequate skills and a great deal of dumb luck.

Ultimately, if the space station had blown up and Russo and Mitchner had died, their deaths would have been his responsibility and he would have been court-martialed for it. He had authorized the alcoholic beverages, knowing full well that his crew had been confined for so long that they could not be trusted to behave like responsible adults, knowing, too, that it was against policy to have enough on hand to make it possible for any crew member to become stinking drunk.

His dumb luck had held, however, because both men had lived and the circumstances were such that no one, even the two men who could have died, was going to report the incident without doing a good bit of glossing.

Dismissing Laine from her mind finally, Anya settled as comfortably as she could in her bunk and commanded the lights out. She lay staring up at the darkened ceiling of her quarters for a few minutes before resolutely closing her eyes. Almost immediately, she felt herself begin to drift.

She found herself lying on a blanket overlooking an alien landscape. The sky was a deep, almost painfully clear blue without a cloud in sight. It wasn’t night, or even close to it. She knew that somehow, despite the darkness of the sky.

Turning her head, she saw the sun, surprised that she could look almost directly at it without it hurting her eyes. It was huge, and orange, but no where near the horizon which meant it couldn’t be the distortion of the atmosphere that made it appear so large, or so dull an orange.

The area around her wasn’t a field or a meadow, but the vegetation that covered it grew low, crawling along the ground. Looking down at it, she saw that it was green, but also veined with purple. It wasn’t moss. It wasn’t any plant that she was familiar with.

When she lifted her head, she saw that what she’d dismissed before as trees weren’t familiar to her either. The bark of the trees, if it could be called bark, was rough looking, and a mixture of gray and purple. The limbs were fat and stunted and did not spread into smaller and smaller branches. Instead, they grew out spoke like around the top of the trunk and supported something that looked far more like a solid canopy than individual leaves.

The trees moved restlessly, although she couldn’t feel any breeze strong enough to make them sway. It was rather more as if the trees were stretching and preening on their own to expose the canopy as thoroughly to the sun’s rays as possible.

She was on the point of rising to examine them more closely when she sensed a presence. Directed by she knew not what, she turned her head. A man had appeared in the distance. As she watched, he climbed the brow of the hill where she rested, his pace unhurried, unthreatening.

Fascinated by the long, gleaming hair that flowed around his shoulders with his movements, feeling a strange sense of excitement begin to thrum in her blood, a sense almost of awe rising in her, she sat up slowly. He looked like a man. But he wasn’t a man. She had no idea how she knew that, but she did.

He wore a long, flowing robe that covered him from neck to ankles, with long flowing sleeves that covered his arms, but she saw that he was built like a human being. He had two arms, two legs, one head.

As he drew nearer, the sense of awe increased. His face held no expression that she could decipher unless it was cool interest, for she could see that he was appraising her just as she was him.

His features weren’t just regular. They were absolute perfection, flawless, perfectly formed, perfectly symmetrical.

That was why she knew he wasn’t human. Although she wasn’t exactly certain how she knew that he was perfectly symmetrical, she did, and nothing in nature that she knew was perfectly balanced.

He stopped when he was towering over her. For several moments, he simply stood perfectly still, studying her, his features clouded in shadows.

“What manner of being are you?”

Anya blinked at the question. “Human.”

He tilted his head slightly to one side as if the word puzzled him, although why it should she couldn’t imagine. He spoke English, not some foreign or alien tongue incomprehensible to her. Finally, he knelt in front of her. The movement brought his face nearly level with hers, making her excruciatingly aware for the first time that he was far bigger than any man she knew. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed before, but supposed it was because she was too stunned by his beauty to fully register much of anything else.

His shoulders were massive, and she could see from the way the fabric of his robe conformed to his body that his chest and arms were equally massive.

He sat back on his heels. “You are made much as I am,” he said finally. “Outwardly, at least. That pleases me … infinitely.”

It took her several moments to grasp what he’d said because she had just noticed something very strange about his voice. When he spoke, it was as if many voices rumbled from his deep chest at once, almost, but not quite, synchronized—rather like a reverberation.

Anya moistened her lips. “You’re not human?” she managed to ask, hearing her voice quaver faintly.

“The word means nothing to me. I have not heard it before.” He tipped his head up. “But I have not been here before. Mayhap my people have. Did your ancient ones speak of gods who walked among them and looked as I do?”

Instinctively lifting her head to look around just as he had, a start of surprise went through Anya. Instead of the alien landscape she’d seen before, she saw the sun and trees and vegetation of Earth.

Frowning, Anya looked at the man again. “What happened?”

A faint smile curled his chiseled lips and Anya felt her belly tighten.

“You don’t know?”

She stared at him for a moment. “You took this from my mind.”

He looked surprised and then pleased—rather as if she was a pet that had performed a trick unexpectedly.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His eyes, which she saw now were a beautiful, unusual shade of blue, gleamed. “Not a pet—worthy.”

She didn’t particularly like that. She found it insulting.

His amusement deepened. “Why? Would it not have been more insulting to say you were unworthy?”

“Stay out of my head!” Anya snapped. “Yes, but it’s equally insulting that you doubted and I don’t particularly care if you think I’m worthy or not!” She thought that over. “Worthy of what?”

His thick, dark gold brows arched upward. “Of me.”

Anya gave him a look. “I suppose it didn’t occur to you that I might find you unworthy of me?”

His amusement vanished. “Why would you not?”

Why indeed? Physically, he was such perfection it was downright intimidating, and there was no doubt in her mind that, both chemically and physically, she was drawn to him. She knew why she doubted, though. “Character,” she responded succinctly.

He seemed to dismiss that after a moment, but she could see he was irritated that she might find him lacking in any way. He reached for her, dragging her against his chest. It felt almost like being pressed against an oak.

It took her brain several moments to catch up, for she hadn’t even seen him move.

Stunned, she stared up into his deep blue eyes, mesmerized by the shifting colors that reflected his thoughts and emotions. She found she couldn’t move as his head drifted closer, as his lips descended toward hers, found she didn’t want to.

His heated breath caressed her lips as he drew nearer, his own lips parting as his breathing accelerated in sync with her own. His scent and heat acted upon her like a strong aphrodisiac. Her lips tingled, parted seemingly of their own accord.

His hands, like manacles already around her arms, tightened almost painfully and then loosened fractionally even as the pain registered in her mind. “Fragile,” he murmured, his lips grazing hers as he formed the words, sending shivery sensation through her that made her feel as if she was melting, becoming a liquid pool of desperate need.

“Infinitely sweet,” he said on a whisper of sound, very deliberately brushing his lips lightly along hers. “I have not felt this kinship with another being in eons, not felt such desire ever before.”

A question rose in her mind, but vanished as he sealed his lips to hers. The faint scent and taste of him that had been teasing her to distraction instantly intensified as he invaded the sensitive cavern of her mouth with his tongue, tasting her, touching off jagged electric currents. The flash of heat that went through her was scorching in intensity, demolishing all rational thought, instantly driving her upwards from curiosity and burgeoning desire to ravening hunger.

Uttering a faint sound of surrender and desperation, she leaned into his kiss, opening her mouth to him in welcome. She felt a shudder run through his great body. The hands that had been gripping her upper arms released their hold. His arms came around her, molding her to his length.

Her head spun as he lowered her to the blanket and covered her body with his, fitting their bodies so cunningly together she felt the heat and strength of his body along her entire length, felt the power of his desire in the turgid flesh that nestled against her thigh.

It sent a sense of wonder through her, heady desire, and, faintly, a sense of power that so marvelous a being found her so desirable, quaked at her touch, was as vulnerable to his need for her as she was to her need for him. His mouth moved over hers with escalating hunger, touching off echoes within her body until she felt as if she was on fire, feverish.

He broke the kiss. “I want to see and touch your body all over,” he murmured almost feverishly as he skated his lips and tongue over the sensitive flesh of her throat and the small patch of bare flesh above the neck of her suit, “taste your essence, bury my body deeply inside of you, spill my seed into your womb. It will flourish there. I know this—that you were destined for me. You are what I have searched for. You were meant for me.”

It was the seed thing that brought her euphoria crashing down around her. Her body had been skating the edge of a glorious high right up until he’d brought procreation into the mix.

“No!” she gasped, struggled for several moments, and abruptly sat straight up in bed, breathing as if she’d just run a marathon, her heart hammering almost painfully in her chest.

* * * *

A wave of shock rolled through him. At first he was too stunned to feel anything but surprise that she had broken the connection between them. A mixture of conflicting emotions pelted him when the surprise wore off. He was pleased to discover that she was more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. At the same time, frustration arose in him that she had broken his hold on her subconscious before he had familiarized himself with her as thoroughly as he had wanted to. Unquenched desire still simmered within him from the taste of her he had had and that did not please him at all. Outrage swept all before it, however, when it dawned upon him that it was his mention of filling her with his offspring that had roused her enough to flee from his hold.

She had questioned his worthiness, implied that she found him lacking in some manner! Her arrogance might have amused him if it had not made him so furious.

Chapter Three

Anya’s alarm was sounding, but she was so deeply wrapped up in the alarm racing through her body that moments passed before she realized what the ungodly racket was that was making her skull pound and setting her teeth on edge.

“Off!” she snapped as the realization sank in and dropped heavily back onto her pillow as the sound vanished and blessed silence returned except for her labored breathing.

She felt as if she’d woken from a nightmare, distressed. Closing her eyes, she struggled to grasp the threads of her dream that were rapidly vanishing from her mind. She frowned when the memories eluded her except for thin wisps that she could scarcely put together.

Giving up finally, she pushed herself upright again and thrust the covers away. The light brush of her hands over her body sent nearly agonizing sensations through her and gave her pause. She felt the dampness of her sex then and was even more puzzled.

She rarely had what most people described as wet dreams, but when she did she certainly didn’t awaken with the sense that it was a nightmare she’d had.

Vaguely, she remembered something about an alien world, but she couldn’t produce the images, only the sense that she’d dreamed of an alien world.

That wasn’t that hard to figure out. She’d had nothing on her mind when she’d retired beyond the sense of frustration she felt about being forbidden to examine the alien artifact they’d found.

She was the chief science officer. Mostly her duties were as medic to the crew members because there was little call for a science officer. But that didn’t change the fact that she was qualified to serve in that capacity and required to when and if the need arose.

When she’d performed her morning ritual and changed out of her nightwear and into a fresh uniform, she left her quarters and headed toward the mess hall.

She was sore from the unaccustomed exercise the day before, not only from the running and tugging at Melanie and the others, but from the work that had had to be done to seal the breach in the hull before they could pressurize the bay once more and get inside the station.

The day crew was in the mess hall when she arrived. Except for the occasional scrape of fork or spoon to plate and the faint chink of crockery against the tables, the room was silent. No one, it seemed, was much in the mood for talk. In fact, a survey of the room’s occupants produced the information that everyone, without exception, looked to be suffering from a hangover. Russo and Mitchner sat at a table alone, glaring at their plates as if the sight of the food was repulsive, their steaming coffee mugs clutched in their hands as if to ward off any attempts to snatch them away.

Wondering if it was merely their hangovers, or if they’d been apprised of the fact that they’d been left behind when everyone else abandoned ship, she moved to the food unit and, as was her habit, carefully selected a balanced breakfast even though she felt vaguely nauseous at the prospect of actually eating it.

Melanie was sitting at a table alone and after she’d collected eating utensils, Anya joined her.

She didn’t feel much like talking and she could see from the vague, glazed look in Melanie’s eyes that she was of a similar bent, but, mentally shrugging, she took the plunge anyway. “How are you feeling?”

Melanie lifted her head and stared at her blankly for several moments. Finally, she blinked as if coming out of a trance. Slowly, color seeped into her cheeks. A shiver skated down her spine. “Better than I should be, I expect.”

Resolutely ignoring her disinclination to eat, Anya nibbled half heartedly at her food. “I could give you something to help with the hangover if you want to come down to the med lab when we’re done here.”

Melanie shrugged. “I had the wildest dream last night,” she finally said, leaning closer and speaking in a low voice.

Anya felt a jolt run through her. “Did you?” she prompted.

Melanie nodded, but then frowned. “Not that I can remember a lot of it.”

Anya stirred the food on her plate. “What do you remember?”

Melanie dragged in a deep breath and let out a sigh. “There was this absolutely gorgeous man. And, this is weird, he was blond. I remember that.”

Anya failed to grasp the logic of the ‘weird’ part, but she felt her stomach tighten as Melanie’s word’s instantly stirred her own memories and an image appeared before her mind’s eye. “What was weird about him being blond?”

Melanie gave her a look. “You know I go for dark men,” she said irritably. “I just can’t figure out why I’d have a wet dream about a blond god when I don’t usually find fair men attractive.”

Anya choked on the sip of coffee she’d just taken, nearly snorting the brew through her nostrils. Her eyes watered. Her nose stung. Grabbing her napkin, she covered her mouth and nose and coughed until she’d managed to bring up the liquid she’d inhaled.

“You ok?” Melanie asked sympathetically.

Not really. She managed a thin smile, though. “It just went down the wrong way,” she said a little hoarsely. Frowning, she took a careful sip and swallowed with equal care. “So … you dreamed this hunky blond guy made love to you? Maybe you were thinking about somebody you’ve known?”

Melanie shook her head. “That’s what’s weird. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t a man at all, not human anyway—but, god!—the guy was built like a dream. Fucked me six ways from Sunday and I swear I’ve never experienced anything like it! It was better than the real thing, better than anything I’ve ever experienced anyway. It was like he … he controlled the pleasure centers of my brain.”

The jealousy that coiled in Anya’s belly was both surprising and sickening. “You … he … y’all did it?”

Melanie snickered and covered her mouth. “Your accent’s slipping. You ok? Seriously, you haven’t gone all southern gal in a while. I thought you’d ditched the accent for good.”

Anya sent her friend a narrow eyed glare. “What’s wrong with my accent?” she asked stiffly.

Melanie held up her hands. “Don’t be mad. I always liked it. You were the one that decided you needed to ditch it because nobody took you seriously.”

Correction, everyone tended to equate the slow drawl with stupidity and ignorance regardless of the honors she’d accrued. Realizing Melanie had a point, Anya struggled to tamp her anger, but it dawned on her fairly quickly that she wasn’t really angry about the remark about her accent. The ‘slip’ into her normal speech patterns was evidence of her distress not the heart of it. Unaccustomed as she was to feeling jealousy at all, she still recognized it. It didn’t matter that it was crazy to feel it. The emotion was still coiled like a poison serpent in her belly.

She tried to shrug it off, but finally excused herself and left the mess hall. There was little to do in the infirmary to distract her. More than half expecting crew members to pop in and ask for something to soothe their hangovers, she was surprised when they didn’t and disturbed for no reason that she could completely fathom. It occurred to her after a while that it bothered her because it didn’t seem typical of the behavior she’d come to expect of the crew. Even Melanie hadn’t come to request a painkiller and although she wouldn’t have categorized any of the crew members as drug heads, they were certainly accustomed to popping pills for whatever ailed them.

Truthfully, that was about the only purpose she served. It was required that anyone going into space be in peak physical condition. Except for an occasional accident or illness, she had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with and no one was the least shy about dropping by to ask for something to ease aches and pains, something to help them sleep, help them wake up, soothe their nerves, pep up their sex lives.

Why hadn’t anyone at all come to the infirmary when she knew at least a few had to be suffering the aftereffects of the booze they’d had the afternoon before?

That wasn’t the only thing puzzling or disturbing her, however. Fending it off as long as she could, her mind eventually returned to the discussion she’d had with Mel at breakfast. It wasn’t just bizarre that they’d had the same dream, or two damned similar dreams, it was scary.

It was almost as scary that she felt like Melanie had trespassed.

The thought flickered through her mind that nothing had changed except the acquisition of the alien artifact, but it seemed too farfetched to associate the dream, and the variation in behavior she’d felt, and sensed in the others, to what appeared to be nothing more than a stone.

She resolved, though, to tamp her strange sense of possessiveness and try to delve Melanie’s mind a little more closely.

Melanie looked at her a little warily when she joined her for lunch. “Still mad?”

Anya managed a strained smile. “I wasn’t really mad to start with.”

Mel gave her a look. “You could’ve fooled me,” she murmured, then looked Anya straight in the eyes. “I was so unsettled I forgot to thank you for saving my ass yesterday.”

Anya reddened, but she felt pleasure lift her spirits slightly. “You’re welcome.”

Mel seemed to relax. “That’ll teach me to unwind with booze, right?”

Anya shrugged. “We’ve been away from home a long time. I guess we’re all long overdue for letting loose.”

“Very,” Mel agreed, “but I think I’ll just wait until I get home to try it again. I’ve just gotten so used to being on this chunk of metal, I’d forgotten how really dangerous it is out here.”

“I think we all have—or had. Yesterday was a real eye opener.” She shivered. “Do me a favor?”

“What?”

“If I ever volunteer to space walk again, knock me out. I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my life. I don’t know what possessed me even to suggest it.”

Melanie grinned at her. “And here I’d been admiring your balls, lady!”

“If I had any before they were about the size of peas by the time I got to the station.”

Melanie chuckled, but sobered almost at once. “Jokes aside, and I don’t know if everybody realized what you’d done, it took more than I have to offer yourself up as a sacrifice.”

Embarrassed, Anya felt her face heat up. “It was hardly that,” she said dryly.

“Not that you knew, and I know you took the risk to give the rest of us a better chance, even if nobody else realized it.”

Anya pushed her plate aside and clasped her hands in front of her on the table, staring at them meditively for several moments. “Tell me more about that dream,” she said finally.

Mel regarded her uneasily. “Are you going to get mad at me again?”

Anya managed a tight smile. “I’ll try not to.”

Frowning, Melanie seemed to be working to dredge up the memories. Her first words confirmed it. “Oddly enough, I don’t remember it as clearly as I did this morning. The thing that seems to stick in my mind most is pleasure and uneasiness—feelings, not too much I can visualize. I found myself in this alien landscape. I do remember that, and oddly enough Carol told me she had almost the exact same dream.”

Anya’s eyes widened in stunned surprise. Her heart lurched almost painfully. “She did?”

“Yeah, weird, huh?”

“I’d say unbelievable except for the fact that I’m pretty sure I had the dream, too.”

Mel looked as stunned as Anya. “What do you think it means?”

Anya shrugged. “Not portents,” she said dryly. “I think it’s that thing down in the bay.”

Melanie’s jaw sagged to half mast before a sound roughly reminiscent of a laugh erupted. “You can’t be …. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Irritated more because Melanie had confirmed her suspicion that she was letting her imagination run away with her than because she felt her friend was ridiculing her suggestion, Anya felt her lips flatten into a thin line of irritation. “I’m open to your suggestions,” she said testily. “Why do you think at least three people had, from what we can tell, almost exactly the same dream?”

Except he hadn’t fucked her six ways from Sunday. He hadn’t done anything but kiss her!

Her body instantly stirred at the memory. Viciously, she tamped her wayward libido.

Mel shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d be more inclined to think it was something we ate, though,” she responded cattily. “You’re not going to report something like that, I hope? They’ll think you’ve got space dementia.”

“That was going to be my next guess,” Anya said with rising ire. Turning her head, she stared stonily at the far wall of the mess hall for several moments before it dawned on her that the conversations she sensed around her and Mel had a similar thread.

Instantly distracted, she focused her gaze from one table to the next and discovered there wasn’t a single agreeable conversation going on in the room. All the faces within her view wore scowls.

A puzzled frown drew her dark brows together. “Is it just me? Or does everyone seem particularly moody?”

Surprise flickered over Mel’s features. Turning, she surveyed the other crew members as Anya had. “I guess you figure this is because of the rock in the bay, too?”

“It isn’t a rock!” Anya snapped testily.

Looking first taken aback and then angry, Mel snarled back at her, “What is it with you, anyway? That time of the month?”

“Excuse me,” Anya said tightly, getting up abruptly and leaving the mess hall.

She slammed into Laine as she rounded a corner. They both fell back a step and glared at one another. “I’m surprised you’re not wearing a big cat-that-ate-the-canary grin,” he growled.

“What the hell are you talking about, asshole?” Anya demanded indignantly.

He blinked, but his scowl returned fairly quickly. “They gave you a go on examining your pet rock.”

A mixture of emotions roiled through Anya so rapidly she couldn’t identify the half of them. Finally, she pasted a feral grin on her lips. “Better?” she asked.

His lips pinched. “More like I’d expect out of you!” he retorted and turned on his heel, heading back toward the bridge. “Keep me in the loop!” he called over his shoulder.

Anya was still angry when she reached the med lab and she had no idea why. She paced for a time, irritated that the obelisk hadn’t already been delivered to her. She was on the point of striding to the communicator and demanding to know why the hell Laine had told her she was to be able to examine the alien artifact and he still hadn’t delivered it to her. What was she supposed to do? Go down to the bay and fetch it back by herself?

The unreasonableness of her attitude abruptly struck her forcefully, however.

Stopping with her finger suspended over the button, she drew her hand back. After a moment, she moved to the stool that sat in one corner and settled on it. Melanie was right, she thought irritably. She was behaving as if her hormones were in flux and she had no reason to be in that state. It wasn’t even nearly time for her courses, because she had had her period only the week before.

She was tired, but she didn’t think that could explain her agitation and irritability, unnerved by their near brush with disaster the day before—unnerved by the alien artifact for that matter, but even so it just wasn’t like her to be so mercurial. She was usually so cool headed, so laid back.

What had gotten in to her?

She’d snapped at Melanie for nothing.

She’d been nasty to Laine when she should have been ecstatic about his news.

Closing her eyes, she began to work on relaxing the tension in her body, breathing slowly and deeply, focusing her mind on each part of her body and consciously forcing the tension from it.

It would have been better if she could have lain down, but she found it worked after a fashion anyway. She felt far more like herself when she’d finished, less like she would explode.

She heard the men quarreling before they reached the lab with the object. Opening her door, she watched them as they maneuvered the eerie black obelisk down the corridor.

It had never seemed narrow to her before, but the artifact made it so, dwarfed the men struggling with it. She stepped back out of the way as they reached the med lab, glancing around belatedly to see where she wanted them to put it. The examination table could be moved. The scanner couldn’t.

Moving to the table she tried to shove it out of the way and discovered she couldn’t. When she knelt to examine the bottom, she saw why. It was bolted to the floor. Embarrassed, wondering why she hadn’t realized immediately that it would be, she came erect again as the men began struggling to maneuver the flat cart carrying the thing through the door. They fought it for several moments before it finally dawned on them the obelisk was too wide for the door.

Settling to measuring it, Vance finally stood. “We’ll have to lift the heavy son-of-a-bitch and turn it on its side!” he growled.

“I need it here so I can run a scan on it, but the table’s bolted to the floor.”

She saw that he was sweating with effort as he stared at her, examined the table, and then stared at her again. “We’ll put it on the table,” he responded tersely.

She was about to tell him that wouldn’t do at all because then she wouldn’t have an examination table for potential patients besides the fact that she’d need a ladder to get high enough to look down at the top. She thought better of it after she’d examined the men’s faces. “Sure.”

It took another fifteen minutes for them to turn the thing on its side and manhandle it through the door that wasn’t wide enough for both them and the object. When they’d left again, she stood staring thoughtfully at the door, wondering if Melanie had been closer to right than she was. Was it possible they were all beginning to suffer from dementia? And if so, what had triggered it?

More importantly, she supposed, did she have enough medication on hand to deal with the problem?

Turning finally, she surveyed the black obelisk, feeling a shiver work its way down her spine. It looked more like a coffin than ever and she wondered if there was any possibility that that was what it was—that whatever was inside it had been ‘buried’ in space and then had dropped in their laps.

That didn’t explain any of the strange things already associated with it, however. It had changed speed and trajectory. It had even managed to almost maneuver right into their landing bay without mishap—almost. Without guidance or propulsion, however—if it was a coffin it certainly wouldn’t have either—how had that happened?

Emptying her mind of suppositions with an effort, she bent to the task of extracting data. When she’d set the scanner to work, she went to her medical supply cabinet to examine it for any medicines that would be suitable for treatment of dementia if, in fact, that was what she was seeing. To her relief, she found a couple of medications she thought would help. There wasn’t a great deal of the medication generally prescribed for it, but she had several different types of sedatives, anti-depressants, and anti-psychotics, enough, surely, to deal with the problem if there was one.

The big question was how was she going to administer the drugs if she found it necessary? Nobody had even been down to the infirmary for so much as an aspirin.

Locking the cabinet again, she turned to watch the progress of the scanner while she pondered the problem.

The scanner had covered maybe half the obelisk when the lights winked out. She scarcely had time for an indrawn gasp of surprise when they came on again, but then irritation surfaced as the scanner automatically reset itself.

“Damn it!”

Sighing, she stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot as the scan began again. The scanner nearly made it all the way to the end of the thing before the lights winked off again.

“Shit! Damn it! Damn it! What the hell’s going on!” she exclaimed, stalking toward the door as the backup lights kicked in. The door opened sluggishly. As she stepped into the corridor, she saw Laine stalking toward her, his face eloquent of frustration to match hers.

“What’s up with the lights?”

He stopped and looked at her. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Glancing past her shoulder, he stared at the obelisk for a moment and finally stepped inside. “What have you found out so far?”

Anya frowned at him. “Nothing. Not a damn thing! I haven’t managed to get a full scan yet. I get part way through and the lights flicker and the scanner resets. What’s wrong with the power?”

He shook his head. “We’re leaking.”

“What?” Anya demanded, completely mystified.

He glanced at her absently. “Power drain. It seemed localized in the bay. I figured it was from the damage yesterday, but we finally got everything working ok down there. Now we’re having a problem on this level.”

Uneasiness wafted through Anya. “How bad?”

“Bad enough,” he said curtly.

“Life threatening?”

“Hopefully we’ll track it down before that becomes a concern.”

“Hopefully?”

He glared at her. “What do you want me to tell you, Rambo? We don’t know what’s causing it and until we do I can’t say whether or not we can fix it. You think it could be the scanner?”

“I don’t see how,” Anya responded, lifting her head to stare at the equipment. “It was working fine before.”

“You’ve used it?”

“I used it on everyone when I did a six month check up, remember?”

“You haven’t used it since then, though?”

She thought it over. “A couple of months back when Russo fell and we thought he’d broken his leg.”

He nodded. “I need to get the techs in here to check it anyway.”

Irritation surfaced, but Anya resolutely tamped it. It wasn’t like she was going to make any progress with the lights going off every few minutes. “Give me a minute to see if the scanner got anything at all. If it did, I’ll upload the data to my personal computer and look it over in my quarters.”

Curled up on her bunk in her quarters a few minutes later, Anya waited tensely for her computer to bring up the data the scanner had managed to record before it went down the second time. Disappointment filled her, however, when it finally did come up.

It looked corrupted. “Damn it!”

She studied it anyway, trying to see if she could glean any data from among the garbage. She had already deleted a full page before it dawned on her that it wasn’t garbage. It was data. It was their onboard computer trying to decipher information it found completely indecipherable. The material the artifact had been fashioned from didn’t conform to any known materials, manmade or natural. It contained elements of a few recognizable minerals, however.

Feeling a headache coming on after a while, she decided to close her eyes for a few minutes and try to will the tension away.

Chapter Four

She was standing on the hill this time. When she looked around she was almost disappointed to see that she was on Earth. The alien landscape had intrigued her and she’d wanted to study it more closely.

The sun was lower in the sky this time, nearing sunset.

When she turned finally to look at the area where she’d seen the man appear before, she saw that he was already climbing the hill toward her.

His face wasn’t devoid of emotion this time. He was angry. She saw it in the glitter in his eyes and the harsh lines of his face, the set of his jaw and lips, the line between his brows that had drawn the dark, golden-brown twin arches together. She saw it in the tension of his body and the stiffness of his movements.

“Why did you leave?” he demanded in a low, growling voice.

Surprise and confusion filled her at the question. Alarm filled her, too, because he was one big mother, but she dismissed that. “I didn’t leave. I was never here to start with,” she retorted. “This is only a dream.”

He looked disconcerted. She had a feeling he wasn’t disconcerted often. A look of cunning swept over his handsome face after a moment. “If it is only a dream it can not matter what happens in the dream, can it?”

Uneasiness wafted through her. “Why do I have a feeling this is a trick question?” she responded uneasily.

A slow smile lit his face, beginning with a gleam of amusement in his deep blue eyes that made them twinkle, spreading to his lips, which curled upward, then parted to reveal even white teeth, growing until laugh lines creased his cheeks and the corners of his eyes and Anya’s belly began to shimmy. “Because you have a suspicious nature?”

He was teasing. She didn’t know why she found that so surprising, or so—charming that she found herself smiling back at him like an idiot, but she did. She looked away, determined to resist his allure, reminding herself that he had no more discrimination that the next man. It was all about conquest. There was nothing the least personal about it beyond a determination to use her body for their pleasure. “I don’t see that it mattered anyway—that I left. From what I heard from Melanie you had a whale of a good time without me.”

Something flickered in his eyes. “This bothers you?”

She gave him a look. “Not particularly,” she lied easily. “I was only pointing out that you obviously found someone—several someone’s—to play with besides me. And, that being the case, I think the anger’s a little out of proportion. Don’t you?”

“No. I chose you.”

“Well—tough! I didn’t choose you.”

He tilted his head curiously. He was frowning again, but this time it was more confusion than anger. “Why not?”

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling at his expression. Obviously, he wasn’t accustomed to being turned down.

“I am not,” he responded as if she’d spoken aloud. “You find my form as desirable as I do yours. I would give as much pleasure to you as I take for myself. I can give you pleasure such as you have never known before.”

“A master of pleasures of the flesh, huh? You’d no doubt be surprised to hear this, but there are a lot of men that think that and they’re usually wrong.”

His lips tightened in irritation. Instead of responding directly, however, he asked another question. “What is a tight ass?”

Anya issued a snort of a laugh that time, unable to keep it in. “God! Even the guys in my dreams are calling me that now!”

He moved toward her. She didn’t see him move. One moment he was standing a good three feet away and the next he was chest to face with her—because he towered over her—one of his great hands cupping one of her buttocks. “This is ass. Taut? Is that tight ass?”

“Having trouble with the slang, are you?” Anya asked with amusement. “Don’t feel badly about it. Foreigners usually do.”

“Why does Laine think you are a tight ass?” he demanded.

“Because I won’t fuck him—and, like you, he’s laboring under the impression that he’s a master at pleasuring women and he can’t figure out why I won’t let him.”

She felt absolute fury radiate from him for a moment. “This man appeals to you?”

Unnerved as she was by the sense that his temper was barely held in check, she shrugged almost off handedly. “Actually, he does on a physical level—just like you do. I don’t especially like him, however. I don’t admire him. I don’t respect him. I don’t trust him. He doesn’t interest me on a mental level, or as a friend, or a companion, and, because I find him lacking in every other way, he doesn’t really turn me on.”

He digested that in silence for several moments and finally his anger began to dissipate. “You seek a mate.”

Anya was more than a little taken aback, because it was more of a statement of fact than a question and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he was right. “Actually, no. I’m not seeking anything because there’s nothing to find,” she said, struggling against the old sense of loss that she’d thought she had long since banished. She’d discovered from experience that casual sex just didn’t work for her. It might have if she’d never known anything better. The problem was, she did. She’d loved once—wildly, passionately, completely—and casual sex just didn’t even come close to the powerful physical and emotional completion she’d experienced with him. She knew because she’d spent a lot of time hoping to find something like that again, or even close. And the closest she’d come was when she’d developed an emotional bond with her lovers. Unfortunately, the couple of times she’d found that, she’d discovered that she and the guy were both fond of the same person—him.

That was the main reason she’d avoided Laine like the plague, she realized. She suspected she would be vulnerable to him, and Laine only cared about himself.

“What happened to him?”

She looked at him, resentful that he’d intruded on her thoughts again. “He died.”

He looked thoughtful, puzzled. “What is this, died?”

“How can you not know what died means? Ceased to exist! Left me forever!” Anya said angrily and then shook her head. “Why do I dream about you? You’re not real. You don’t exist at all. That’s why you don’t understand anything.”

“I am.”

“What?” Anya demanded. “An alien? You don’t feel anything. If you did you wouldn’t have to ask me these things. You’d know!”

“You are an arrogant species!” he said, an undertone of impatience in his voice.

“Not nearly as arrogant as you are!” Anya shot back at him.

He looked amused. “But I am a god.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Anya snapped even as everything around her vanished and she felt herself jerked upwards toward consciousness.

Her communicator was on she discovered when she opened her eyes. Laine’s features slowly focused. “Thinking? Why am I not surprised to find out you argue even in your sleep?”

Anya stared at his image for several moments, trying to gather her wits. “I must have dozed off.”

“The data must have been fascinating,” he said dryly. “We’ve got the problem with the power resolved.”

“Then I can safely do a scan?”

“As far as I know.”

He lingered until he saw as she threw the covers back that she was still fully clothed and then closed the communication when she glanced at him again. A mixture of amusement and irritation filled her. She was under no illusions either about herself or Laine. She thought she had a good figure, but so did most of the women on board because they were all in peak physical condition. She couldn’t imagine that there would be a great deal of difference between them. Why he wanted to look at her when he’d already seen all the others, she couldn’t imagine. Or why he thought it would give him a thrill.

Men!

And Laine was that most annoying of types—one of those who bragged that one woman in the dark was the same as any other—which had never made any sense to her, because that was always the type that wanted to screw every woman they ran across. If they couldn’t tell the difference, why not just stick with one?

It had to be the conquest.

After washing her face to revive herself, she left her quarters and headed down to the med lab again. Without much surprise, she discovered when she’d managed a complete scan that the readout was just as garbled as the one she’d been trying to decipher earlier.

Almost as garbled. She did discover that the thing was a capsule—hollow inside, and contained something carbon based.

Obviously some life form, now dead, of course—which meant she’d been right to begin with. The thing was a coffin.

Shelving that theory until she had more to back it up, she focused on trying to fine tune the program so that the computer could separate the known elements of the sarcophagus itself from the unknown. Separating the surface layer scan from the deep scan, she programmed the computer to decipher the hieroglyphs, hoping against hope that the computer would eventually be able to tell her what the symbols represented.

She was so deep in thought when she reached the mess hall for the evening meal that the buzz of voices around her didn’t even penetrate her conscious mind until she felt the warmth of a hand on hers. Startled, she looked up to discover Melanie was giving her a worried look. “Earth to Anya!”

Anya blinked. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

Melanie smiled wryly, shaking her head. “Nothing of any importance I don’t guess. You’re a million miles away. Still mad at me about earlier?”

Anya did a brief mental search. “I wasn’t angry,” she said finally.

Melanie’s brows rose. “You could’ve fooled me. I guess it was my fault, though. The strange thing is, I don’t even know why I was short tempered.”

The reminder caught Anya’s attention. Glancing around the dining hall, she saw that the other crew members were talking companionably, as if the irritability they’d all felt earlier had simply vanished. “I was just as short tempered,” Anya said slowly. “In fact, everybody was behaving uncharacteristically temperamental. It’s almost … eerie.”

“What is?”

Anya shook her head. “Everyone was angry and tense before. Now they’re not.”

Melanie shrugged. “I had a touch of hangover, I guess. Plus I was still jittery from the near collision with that thing. What’ve you found out about it, anyway?”

Anya stared at her a moment and finally shrugged inwardly. She hadn’t been told the information was classified. Of course, such things usually were, just in case the military discovered some use for it as a weapon …. “Not much. I probably shouldn’t talk about it, anyway,” she said finally.

Melanie studied her face speculatively. “You think it’s something that could have military significance?”

“It plowed through the side of the station like cutting through butter and there’s not a mark on it. What do you think?”

“Carol said there was some speculation that it was a torpedo,” Melanie fished.

“Carol’s liable to find a reduction in rank if she doesn’t watch the chatter,” Anya muttered but then capitulated. “It’s not a bomb. I think it’s a burial capsule.”

“Ugh! You mean you think we’ve got a dead alien up there?”

“Possibly. Whatever that obelisk is composed of, the scanner’s having trouble penetrating it and the readings are really bizarre because the materials aren’t like anything we’ve ever encountered. But I did get a carbon reading.”

“Alive?”

Anya shook her head. “Impossible. The thing is air tight, but the scanner would have picked up a reading if there was any sort of mechanics inside. For that matter, from what I overheard on the bridge when it was coming in, nothing at all registered—no heat, no life, no mechanics.”

“I take it you aren’t disappointed?”

Anya grinned. “Are you kidding? This thing came from some alien race—obviously advanced, possibly more advanced than our own. It’s the find of the century, and I’m getting first shot at examining it!”

“Lucky you,” Melanie said dryly. “You get to examine the corpse!”

“It’s an alien being!” Anya pointed out. “And most likely well preserved, but I won’t be able to examine it for a while. The capsule is sealed. I don’t think there’s going to be any way to get it open without a laser—And I’m not sure a laser will open it, to tell you the truth. But I certainly can’t even attempt anything that could damage it until I’ve learned all there is to learn about the capsule itself.”

* * * *

The red sun had crested the horizon, spilling shimmering light across the landscape that turned everything the dull red of clay or the deeper red of blood. Anya looked down at the vegetation beneath her feet and finally knelt to test it with her fingers. It felt cool and smooth, reminding her strongly of the velvety moss that grew along river banks back home.

Rising again after a moment, she stared at the towering trees and finally crossed the meadow of moss and lifted a hand to touch the bark. It stunned her when the ‘tree’ evaded her hand, swaying away from her touch. Certain it must have been the wind, although she hadn’t been conscious of a breeze, she tried again.

“Your touch gives them pain.”

Startled, Anya turned toward the deep, resonating voice that she’d begun to recognize.

He was standing far closer than she’d expected and a jolt went through her. Collecting her scattered wits, she licked her dried lips before she spoke, noticing that his gaze followed the movement of her tongue. “What makes you think that?” she asked curiously.

“It is not a tree—not as you think of a tree. Its skin is easily damaged by the chemicals in your flesh.”

Anya glanced at the thing again. “It has awareness?”

“Yes. Little intelligence, but awareness, certainly.”

“This is your world,” she said, suddenly certain of it.

A look of pain crossed his features. “It was … long ago. It is no more.”

Anya frowned. “Because you left it?”

“Because it died. Ceased to exist anywhere except in memory.”

“The whole world?” Anya asked, stunned, horrified to think that could be the case.

“The world and all in it—save me.”

“You are the last of your kind?” Anya couldn’t help but demand clarification, because it was just too hard to accept that he could be alone, so completely and utterly alone.

He looked away, staring pensively at the distant horizon. “I have found no others.”

She felt pain for him, felt a terrible sense of loss descend over her when she had no real reason to feel bereft for herself. Struggling with the uncomfortable emotions, a thought abruptly aroused suspicion. “You said you were a god.”

He smiled faintly. After a moment, he turned to look at her. “Your concept of a god.”

Anya frowned. “That would be difficult since I don’t believe in mythical beings.”

“No?” He moved closer. This time she was looking directly at him and she was still surprised to discover when she had blinked that he was standing toe to toe with her. He lifted his hands to rest them lightly on her upper arms and then just as lightly brushed them downwards until he could curl his fingers into her palms. “I would far prefer you think of me as a man,” he murmured.

Her shoulders, her arms, her hands tingled at the warmth of his touch. Warmth curled in her belly. Her breath hitched in her chest as it tightened. A jolt of surprise went through her when she followed the motion of his hands with her gaze, because she discovered that she was completely naked where before she’d been certain she was wearing her uniform.

More confused than disturbed, she was still trying to reason through her lack when she felt her hands settle on warm, naked flesh. Jerking her head up, she saw that he had placed her palms against his chest and was stunned to realize that he was naked where moments before he’d worn the robe he always wore. Beneath her palms, she felt the beat of his heart as it began to race as hers was racing.

Fascinated by the feel of his flesh beneath her palms, she made no attempt to remove her hands when he released them and settled his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. Swallowing with an effort when she felt the tips of her breasts brush his chest, felt her belly brush the turgid flesh that had risen between them, she lifted her head to look up at him.

His gaze moved over her face, searching for acceptance, or desire. “It’s not real,” he murmured, lowering his head until he could fit his lips to hers. A sigh of surrender escaped her as she felt the same heated rush that she’d felt when he’d kissed her before.

His taste filled her with longing, with need. It would be so easy to give in to temptation, to seek the pleasure he offered.

Just the kiss, she thought, to see if it felt as wonderful to have his mouth on hers as it had before.

It did. It felt more wonderful than she remembered. Her head swam with the sensations that pounded through her as he explored the warm cavity of her mouth with his tongue. Her body came alive beneath the light, caressing exploration of his hands, every fiber of her being tingling with awareness, with exquisite pleasure.

Within moments she felt the last of her defenses crumble, felt her doubts and anxieties vanish. It was a dream. It was only a dream.

But the fire in her blood defied unreality. The dampness that gathered in her sex to welcome his flesh felt real. His taste, his scent, the feel of being wrapped up in his strong arms, curled against the hard muscles of his body, felt real—better than real.

She could scarcely catch her breath by the time he released her lips and began to explore her skin with his mouth and tongue. “Now!” she whispered breathlessly as she felt him carry her down, felt the soft, cool moss beneath her back as he settled her against the ground and the welcome weight of his body covered her. “I can’t wait! I don’t want to wait!” she muttered in a gasping voice as she stroked her hands over him.

He ignored her demand, ignored her clutching hands as she tangled her fingers in his long, golden hair and tugged at him, trying to draw him up to her. “Anya,” he moaned, nuzzling his face against her breasts and the valley between them, nipping lightly at each of her nipples in turn until the blood was pulsing almost painfully in the swollen tips.

Her back arched off the ground as if a current had shot through her when he covered the peak of one breast with his mouth. Every muscle in her body went taut, strained toward the source of pleasure that was slicing through her with the keenness of a knife blade.

“Please,” she murmured breathlessly when he finally ceased to torture one nipple and moved to its twin.

He skimmed a hand lightly down her belly, cupping her sex, parting the tender folds to caress her cleft with one thick finger. She lifted her hips to meet his touch, parted her legs, and when that wasn’t enough, she dragged the leg free of his weight upwards until her sole rested on the mossy vegetation and pressed her knee downward. A hoarse cry scraped along her throat when he found the mouth of her sex and pushed a thick digit inside.

Her flesh closed around him, clung.

He let out a hissing breath and moved over her, wedging his hips between her outward flung thighs, withdrawing his finger and pressing the head of his cock into her opening. The feel of his turgid flesh stretching her, entering her, sent a fresh wave of intense, fiery sensation through her and she felt her body soaring toward her goal, felt the first tremors.

Digging her fingers into his waist, she lifted to meet him when he pushed again, and then again, uttering a soft sound of pleasure when he finally slipped deeply, completely inside of her.

He was watching her face when she opened her eyes, his face taut with his own desire and his struggle to retain control.

She slipped a hand upward. Hooking it along the back of his neck, she pulled, lifting up to meet him, to press her lips to his as he descended. Almost the moment his tongue breached her mouth she felt her body begin to convulse. She moaned into his mouth, kissing him feverishly as the waves of release took her beyond awareness of anything except the glorious jolts of rapture convulsing within her.

He tore his mouth from hers abruptly, straining upward, and then began to thrust into her almost savagely until his body began to quake so badly with the shocks of his own climax that he went limp against her.

She dragged in a shaky breath, stroking her hands gratefully over his sweat slickened back and shoulders, tipping her head back to nuzzle her face against his neck.

“That was … divine,” she murmured lazily, teasingly.

He stiffened and then a chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Heavenly, Beloved,” he murmured in agreement.

She frowned at him when he lifted his head to look down at her face, all traces of amusement gone. “Don’t do that,” she said angrily. “That’s cheating.”

Anya’s chest was tight with distress when she woke. She lay still, her eyes closed, struggling to catch the dream fading into nothingness. Groaning when she finally remembered what it was that had upset her, she rolled onto her side, fighting tears that seemed to well up to choke her from nowhere.

Jeremy had called her beloved. Was that what had made her dream that? Had this man that had invaded her dreams plucked it from her memory to torture her with it?

She shook her head. It was a dream, made up, all of it. She was tormenting herself, pulling up long buried memories that hurt almost as much now as they had when they were a fresh wound.

She had thought she would die when Jeremy was killed. For a while she had willed it to be so, hoped for it. After a time, she’d finally realized she couldn’t just will her body to stop, that she couldn’t cease to breathe, still her aching heart, because he was gone.

If she’d believed she could join him, that he was waiting for her somewhere, she thought she would have taken her own life. But she didn’t believe anything except that she’d lost him forever and it was almost unbearable to think she had to go on without him.

She had, though, and in time it hadn’t hurt so much, the wound had closed, ceased to ache. She had searched desperately for someone to ease the sense of loss, to fulfill any part of what she had once had. But that was all she had found, a piece of a loaf and still more heartache whenever she managed to convince herself she was in love again, with someone new.

Because they weren’t Jeremy and they didn’t love her back. They only wanted to take, not to give.

Why was it bothering her now? She’d learned to live with it, hardly noticed what was missing from her life anymore. She had not even thought of Jeremy except in passing for years. Long ago, she’d stopped hating him for making her need him so badly and then leaving her to go on alone.

Climbing out of bed eventually, she went to take a long shower, hoping it would banish the sense of loss, revitalize her spirits. It helped. It washed away the tension in her muscles.

She skipped breakfast, not wanting to face her friend across the table, certain Melanie would unerringly pick up on her depression and demand to know what was bothering her. She jolted to a halt, however, when she reached the lab.

Carol was inside stroking the sarcophagus!

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Anya demanded.

Carol jumped back guiltily. A blush climbed into her cheeks. “I was just ….” She didn’t finish the thought. Instead, after a moment the look of guilt was replaced with a hard expression. “They didn’t understand him,” she said. “They were afraid of him because of the things he could do. They didn’t understand that he never intentionally caused harm. He was just … immature, too young and new to the powers to understand how to control them. Look what they did to him! They meant for him to die. They thought he would. And he’s the last of his kind—the last! How could intelligent beings even consider destroying another life form like that?”

Anya blinked, feeling her own anger dissipate as a sliver of cold crawled up her spine. “What are you talking about?”

Carol blinked several times, slowly, like someone waking from a trance. After staring at Anya blankly for several moments, she glanced at the gleaming black capsule and then looked around at the lab as if stunned to find herself there. “I have to go.”

Uneasiness settled in a tight knot in the pit of Anya’s belly as Carol brushed past her and disappeared down the corridor. As absurd as Melanie had thought it was, as unbelievable as she had thought it was, certainty settled in her that the strange dreams she and the other women on board had been having weren’t dreams at all. Whatever was inside the sarcophagus was not dead.

* * * *

There was no way to open the sarcophagus that Anya could see, not even the faintest of cracks where a tool could be wedged to pry it open, but she was no longer at all certain they should consider it.

The computer had deciphered some of the hieroglyphs, not all because the markings were from two different languages—probably two different species if she was to believe the nonsense Carol had been spouting.

And what it had deciphered looked like a warning.

Laine was down in the bay she discovered when she called him. He looked annoyed—whether by the interruption or because of the mess the ship was in, she wasn’t certain. She knew, though, that he and the work crew he’d assembled had been busy unpacking the supplies that had been so hastily thrown into the ship the week before.

“What is it?”

“We need to talk.”

“Can it wait till shift change?”

Anya felt a sense of urgency, but she didn’t know how dangerous the situation really was. She decided to err on the side of caution rather than risk having her fears completely dismissed because Laine had gotten the idea she was hysterical. “I guess.”

“I’ll meet you in the Rec room after dinner then.”

Anya bit her lip. “I’d rather we met somewhere a little more private.”

He looked surprised for a moment. She could see the gears turning in his head and irritation went through her because it was obvious the dick head thought she had finally succumbed to his charm. “It’s about my findings,” she added a little testily.

He gave her a look that made her long to reach through the vid and drive her fist into his smug face. “Sure. My place or yours?”

She didn’t particularly want him in her quarters, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to his when he had a revolving door and ‘neighbors’ who counted the crew members who went in and out. “My quarters, I guess.”

“This isn’t personal, so don’t get any ideas,” she snapped when she opened the door to the captain a little over an hour later.

He lifted his dark brows and sent her one of those slow grins she had once thought was sexy as hell. “Whatever you say.”

Pursing her lips, she gestured toward the only casual chair her quarters boasted and, after some consideration, decided to pull out her desk chair for herself when she noticed Laine glance toward her bunk. “The computer’s managed to decipher some of the writing on that alien artifact,” she announced without preamble.

Something flickered in his eyes. “And?”

“It looks like a warning.”

“Looks like, or is?”

Anya got up from the chair and began to pace. “I can’t be sure, but I’m starting to get really uneasy about that thing.”

Surprise flickered over his face and then doubt. “You said it was just a box, empty except for the remains of some dead alien.”

Anya swallowed and returned to her chair. “I don’t think it’s completely dead.”

Laine stared at her. “There was no sign of life. Are you telling me there is now?”

Stupid! Why hadn’t she thought to run another scan? It was careless and sloppy considering her suspicions, and not the sort of thing she would ordinarily be guilty of. She’d been too preoccupied with trying to rehearse what she was going to say to Laine, she decided. “Haven’t you noticed the mood swings in the crew?”

“I don’t spend a lot of time examining moods,” he retorted dryly. “As long as they do their work ….”

Anya tamped her exasperation with an effort. “Have you had any strange dreams?” she asked finally.

He frowned at her. “What the hell are you getting at?”

“I’ve dreamed of a man—a being that looks like a man anyway, over and over again, dreamed of walking on an alien world. And I’m not the only one that’s had this particular dream. I’ve questioned every woman on board and all of them are having the same dream—or something very similar.”

Laine settled back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you think that thing could be causing it?”

“I think whatever’s inside that sarcophagus still has some life in it, and I think it’s manipulating the crew.”

“To what end?”

“I’ve got no idea—and I didn’t want to tell you, but I caught Carol in the lab yesterday. She was stroking the casket. And when I asked her what she was doing there, she began to talk about him.”

“Him, who?”

“The man we’ve been dreaming about. The being, I think, that’s inside that thing. She told me he had meant no harm, that they had tried to destroy him.”

“I’m thoroughly lost,” Laine growled. “What happens in these dreams?”

Anya felt blood surge into her cheeks. “He seduces us.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment and released a chuckle that contained more sarcasm than humor. “You called me in here to tell me you and the other women are having wet dreams about some dead alien?”

“Damn it, Laine! Could you get your fucking mind off your dick for five seconds? What do you do when you want to control a woman? You try to seduce her, convince her you’re crazy about her—and then you get her to do things for you. Right?”

He reddened angrily. “Guess that explains why you treat me like a leper,” he growled.

“It does, but that isn’t the point here. He is weak, possibly dying—too weak to come to us—except in dreams, but he’s a master of pleasure. I’ve seen the look they all have in their eyes whenever they talk about their dreams. Slowly but surely, I think he’s gaining control of this facility. And whatever it is he has in mind, I’m not at all convinced it would be best for us.”

“Exactly what the hell do you want me to do about it?” Laine growled. “We’re under orders to take the artifact back with us—intact.”

Anya stared at him, realizing she hadn’t really formulated any sort of plan. She had no recommendation. She certainly wasn’t willing or ready to suggest they pitch the obelisk back into space. God only knew if it would do any good even if they tried. Something had guided it directly to them. “I only called you here to apprise you of what I believe may be a dangerous situation,” she said more calmly. “You’re the captain. You should know.”

“Except you’ve got nothing to give me except speculation, and, maybe, a warning scratched on that thing by whoever launched it into space to begin with.”

Anya stared at him in disbelief. “I know it sounds crazy! Don’t you think I know that? But you saw what it did before. It slowed down, changed course. It landed in our shuttle bay, for god sake! I’ve examined it as well as my instruments will allow, and I’m telling you that capsule is nothing but a hollow casket! There is nothing inside of it that could possibly have made it do that unless it’s the being inside. And I don’t think it’s any coincidence that everyone was fighting the day after it arrived. He was angry, and everybody in the station was affected.”

Laine scrubbed his hands over his face. “They’ve bumped up our departure,” he said almost tiredly. “Central command can’t wait to get their hands on the artifact. I’ll send some crewmen up to the lab in the morning to remove it to storage in the bay until we leave. It’s the best I can do. I’m not saying I’m buying anything you’ve told me, or dismissing it. But the orders are to bring it and that’s what we’ll be doing.”

Anya dropped weakly into her chair. “When did you get the orders?”

“Earlier today. We’ve repaired the collision damage. SP-13 is as ready as we can make it.”

“They must really be anxious to get hold of it if they’re ordering us to leave the station unmanned. The replacement crew isn’t due for another three or four weeks.”

Laine shrugged. “That’s not my decision. I just follow orders,” he retorted irritably.

“When are we leaving?”

“We’ve got six days to prep the ship and launch homeward. I’d planned on making a general announcement tomorrow.”

Melanie was smirking at her at breakfast the following morning. Anya had not had a restful night and she took the knowing smirk in bad part.

“I heard Laine paid you a visit in your quarters last night—stayed a while.”

Anya’s eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t a social visit, Mel. I wanted to give him my report on my findings so far.”

Melanie’s smirk vanished. Her gaze was speculative. “About him?”

Anya didn’t bother to pretend ignorance, but it irritated her that everyone—at least the females—had begun to refer to ‘him’ when not one of them had set eyes on the alien. “About the artifact.”

“And what was decided?”

Anya’s lips tightened. “We’ve been ordered to take it back with us, not surprisingly.”

Melanie seemed to relax. “Oh.”

“They’ll be removing the obelisk to the bay today and keeping it under guard until we depart.”

Melanie sent her a sly look. “You and I both know that they could put a dozen guards on him and it won’t make a bit of difference.”

Unnerved by the comment, Anya simply stared at her friend for several moments and finally got up and left abruptly. She wanted to do one final scan on the sarcophagus while it was still in her hands.

Setting up the scan, she watched the machine for a few moments and finally moved to the computer to study the data from the previous reads. The computer, she discovered, had managed to decipher more of the hieroglyphs. She studied the translations, trying to decide if it really was a warning of some kind, or if it only seemed like one because of the word structuring.

A sound behind her finally penetrated her absorption and she lifted her head, thinking the scanner must have gotten off track.

The scrape of metal against metal wasn’t the scanner, however.

The blood seemed to freeze in her veins as she stared at the sarcophagus, which was slowly opening.

She couldn’t move. She didn’t breathe for so long that dizziness swept over her as her body finally commanded her lungs to drag in air. Her heart was thundering so hard in her ears she could hear nothing else, her mind screaming an alarm that none of the rest of her body registered.

She had to command herself to move and even then each smallest movement was only the result of concentrated effort, jerky, uncoordinated.

She had managed to lift her body onto her shaky legs and take no more than one step when she saw a body begin to rise from the cavity within the sarcophagus. Golden hair appeared first, hair that appeared to be spun from gold filament, not merely pale.

He was wearing the robe he had worn each time he had appeared to her in her dreams.

When he’d sat up, he looked slowly around the lab until he found her with his gaze.

Anya wilted back into the chair she’d only just vacated. He looked just as he had in her dreams. Exactly. She tried to speak, swallowed, moistened her fear dried lips and tried again. “Who are you?”

His gaze flickered over her face. “I am Legion.”

Chapter Five

Every tiny hair follicle on Anya’s body seemed to stand on end as the deep, resonating voice washed over her—the voice that sounded as if it were many voices because it came from alien vocal chords unlike any human’s.

He rose from the capsule—floated upwards as if there was no gravity within the space station.

Anya’s mind seemed to kick start when he settled on his feet not much more than an arm’s length from where she sat. She scrambled out of her chair so fast she turned it over. “What are you?” she gasped hoarsely when she’d put some distance between them and whirled to face him again.

Something flickered in his eyes and then his face hardened. His beautifully molded lips—those lips that had kissed her with both hunger and tenderness, drawing pleasure from her as effortlessly as a master musician drew beauty from his instrument—compressed into a tight line and cold dispassion turned his blue eyes to ice. “You know.”

Anya blinked. “I don’t know.”

He tilted his head to one side as if studying an oddity. “Liar. You remember.”

A knot seemed to wedge in Anya’s throat. It took a supreme effort to dislodge it. “The dreams,” she said faintly.

“Not dreams. You knew they were not.”

She stared at him, trying to create order of the chaos of her mind. “You can’t be real,” she finally said, her voice emerging as little more than a hoarse whisper. “It defies logic. You must have been in that thing for years. There was no air, no water, no food. It’s not possible.”

He smiled, but it was a cruel twist of his lips containing little humor. She couldn’t tell if the fury she sensed in him was directed toward her, or those who’d placed him in the coffin and launched him toward eternity.

His eyes narrowed, his lip curling. “They did not place me into the liezarct,” he murmured. “They were far too terrified of me to ….”

He broke off without finishing, but Anya wasn’t certain whether it was because he decided that he had said too much or if it was because the detail that had been assigned to remove and guard the alien artifact arrived at that moment and skidded to a halt in the door of the lab.

One moment Legion was facing her, the next he was facing the threat hovering just outside the lab. Stunned to discover that he moved just as he had in her dreams when she had thought that was merely a part of the dream, Anya stared at his back in disbelief for several heartbeats before she glanced toward the door of the lab.

Vance, she saw, was in the lead, his gaze fastened upon the alien as if he had just inadvertently walked up upon a wild beast. In stunned horror, she watched as Vance’s hand moved to his service pistol as his gaze flicked from the alien, to the now empty capsule, to her. The revolvers the men carried, she knew, had been set with inhibiters to prevent any accidental hull breach, but that concern didn’t enter her mind. It was her fear of how Legion would react to hostility when he was already angry—with her, she realized belatedly, because her reception of his ‘true’ self had hardly been the warm welcome of a lover. No doubt he’d expected that. He had every reason to, she realized considering the way she’d responded to his touch.

She shook her head, but she knew even as she did so that Vance was hardly even aware of her.

Almost as if time had slowed to a crawl, she saw Vance’s fingers close around the butt of his pistol. Legion moved. One moment he was standing beside the sarcophagus, the next he was within reach of the men at the door. Shots rang out, the blinding red beams of the laser pistols pinging in a wild zigzag around the lab.

She felt her jaw sag in stunned disbelief as the realization struck her that not one penetrated Legion despite the fact that he was less than an arm’s length away from the men firing in mindless panic. The beams seemed to bounce off of him.

Something slammed into her chest so hard it knocked the breath out of her. Slowly, she looked down, stared at the blackened burn in the center of her chest and the thin, bright red stream of blood that shot from her, and then lifted her head again and stared helplessly at the group near the door as her knees buckled and darkness descended on her.

Through a gray fog, Anya found herself looking up at the ceiling of the lab. A face appeared above her and then rage that was palpable surrounded her. Legion slung one arm out as if swatting at a gnat. Anya’s eyes automatically followed the motion and she saw the crewmen flung backwards from the room as if a giant hand had scooped them up and pitched them into the corridor. The lab door slammed closed behind them, sealing her into the lab with Legion.

She seemed to float upwards, but in the next moment she felt the warmth and strength of Legion surrounding her, his chest against her side and cheek, his arms beneath her shoulders and knees. She didn’t realize until that moment how cold she was. A shiver went through her as his heat began to filter into her icy body. “C-cold,” she uttered between chattering teeth.

Legion pulled her more tightly against him and she could see nothing at all for several moments. The gray fog was deeper and darker when she felt him move away from her. A deeper cold touched her back and she found herself on a hard, unyielding surface staring up at the lights in the ceiling. She knew, somehow, he’d settled her on the examination table, though she had no idea what had happened to the capsule that had been there before.

Legion’s hand settled on her forehead and for a moment the darkness parted. His face was grim as he stared down her. Do not be afraid, Beloved. I will not allow life to leave you. And when I am done, I will crush them for your hurt.

She didn’t see his lips move, but she heard his voice clearly in her mind. Don’t! They didn’t mean to hurt me. And I’m not afraid, she thought, realizing with a touch of surprise that she wasn’t. Living without Jeremy was the hard part. Dying isn’t nearly as bad as I had thought it would be. Let me go.

The rage wafted over her again. NO! You were destined for me. I knew it the moment my mind touched yours. In time, you will also know it in every fiber of your being, just as I do.

She would have argued but she felt a searing pain enter her chest that was far worse than the mortal shot she knew had pierced her heart, far worse than anything she had ever felt in her life. It crushed her breath from her lungs and she felt herself falling deeper into the velvety blackness.

* * * *

Anya’s first awareness was of pain and noise. Both increased exponentially as full consciousness exploded in her mind and she opened her eyes. The arms that held her in a painful grip against a hard chest didn’t belong to Legion. Confusion not enlightenment filled her as her gaze raked her surroundings. Laser blasts were exploding all around them. Laine was hunched over her, grunting with effort as he hurried along one of the station’s corridors with her. Sweat soaked through his suit and into hers.

They settled behind something big and Laine lay her on the cold floor with more haste than gentleness. She strained to move, but her entire body was a mass of raw nerve endings and the effort only spread the fire further, made it impossible to drag in even a tiny breath. She relapsed, panting. “What’s happening?”

Laine shot her a quick glance and returned his attention to what he’d been doing, which she realized was firing blast after blast at someone beyond her view. Around her, she realized, other crew members were huddled, each of them firing one blast after another.

“That alien bastard’s taken over the station—and more than half the crew is helping him, the mutinous bastards,” Laine growled.

A scream erupted and cut off abruptly. On the heels of it, Anya heard a man cry out and then the blasts stopped abruptly. “Hang on,” Laine growled, shoving his hands under her again and groaning as he lifted her against his chest. “We’re going to make a run for it. Let’s hope they haven’t disabled the ship.”

It took an effort to lift her arms high enough to drape them around his neck and she was too weak to manage much of a grip, but Laine’s labored breathing and movements inspired her to hang on the best she could. Light and shadows flashed over her eyes, making it impossible to focus, but she saw they were in the bay. Clenching her teeth to keep from biting her tongue in his jarring rush, Anya glanced around, trying to grasp what was going on.

She recognized Cooper and Russo. She thought there must be three or four others running with them, but she hadn’t seen them well enough to tell. Seven? Eight? Out of a crew of twenty they were only ones left?

“How long was I out?” she managed to grit out.

Laine ignored the question. She heard a change in the sound his boots made against the decking and a moment later realized they were going up the gang plank.

Another shot rang out. “Fuck!”

A half dozen blasts reciprocated. “Move it, ladies!” Laine growled.

“Son-of-a-bitch! They’ve taken the inhibitors off their pistols. They’re going to fill the hull full of holes!”

Laine dropped her in a seat and dashed toward the cockpit. Anya was still struggling to right herself and drag her harness over her shoulders when she heard the engines fire. The ship bucked and then she was plastered back against her seat as it shot toward the bay doors. Her heart clenched painfully when she saw the bay doors open half way and stop.

“Hit it with a torpedo before it takes the top off the ship!” someone yelled.

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, an explosion rocked the ship, fire and smoke erupted and then silence and blackness as space enveloped the ship.

“Kick it in the ass, Burke, before that bitch implodes and takes us with it!”

Anya gripped the arms of her seat as she felt the ship begin to accelerate. In the viewing screen above the heads of the pilot and co-pilot, Anya saw the SP-13 crumbling in upon itself even as they left it further and further behind. Abruptly, a fireball blossomed. When the smoke and fire began to dissipate, she saw the space station had vanished.

A near crushing sense of loss washed over her as understanding began to filter through her shock. The station was gone and everyone they had left behind with it.

Anya!

The word was like a shout in her mind. She clapped her hands to her skull, covering her ears to try to block out the sound of anger, hurt, betrayal, and loss.

When she opened her eyes, she discovered Laine was crouched in front of her. His expression was grim, but there was both sympathy and a gleam of triumph and relief in his eyes. “Come on,” he said, unfastening her restraints. “Let’s get you into sick bay.”

Anya lifted her arms to drape them around his neck as he scooped her from the seat and hefted her against his chest. “What happened?” she asked in a choked voice as he left the cockpit and headed into the rear of the ship.

“Long story,” he muttered tiredly.

“Tell me anyway,” she said sniffing back the tears she hadn’t even realized were flowing down her cheeks.

“When I get you settled then.”

She subsided until they reached the sick bay. Settling her on one of the three beds the sick bay boasted, he glanced around and finally dragged up a stool and plopped down on it tiredly, examining a laser burn along one arm.

“The last thing I remember, I was in the lab,” Anya prompted. She frowned, struggling to remember more.

“I was shot,” she added in surprise, lifting a hand to her chest.

“Ricochet,” Laine muttered. “They were firing at that—thing that crawled out of the ‘artifact’.”

“He called himself Legion,” Anya murmured, feeling again the painful sense of loss she’d felt before.

Laine glanced at her and then frowned thoughtfully. “Wasn’t there something in ancient mythology about Legion?”

Anya nodded, remembering it as Laine prompted her. “Evil. It was supposed to be an evil manifestation.”

Laine grunted. “Well, he got that much right. It was an evil son-of-a-bitch! Vance managed to crawl away—set off the alarm. He killed the others outright. It was Vance that told us he’d locked himself into the lab with you, but we thought you were dead. Vance said you had caught a blast right in the chest.”

Anya looked down at her hands. He hadn’t been evil. He’d been enraged that they’d hurt her. She didn’t think he would’ve done anything if they hadn’t. She was almost certain that he hadn’t even realized when he had thrown the men from the room that he had hit them hard enough to kill them. She didn’t know why she thought that, but she felt, deep down, that she was right. “I did. He—I don’t know how he did it, but he healed the wound.”

Laine stared at her hard for a moment and finally shrugged. “That was three days ago. I guess you were right about the mind control, too, because we discovered real quick that half the crew was already ‘turned’. When we tried to respond to the alarm, they turned on us and locked us into the brig. Fortunately, Russo’s had some experience with lock up. It took him a while, but he managed to get us out. The alien had his ‘puppets’ working on modifications to the station. No clue what they were up to, but I saw we didn’t have a chance of retaking it.

“The alien apparently thought we wouldn’t be a problem, because he’d left Carol to watch you—which was how we figured out you were still alive. There wouldn’t have been any reason to have anyone watching you if you were dead.”

Anya forced a smile. “Then I have to thank you for rescuing me.”

He gave her a crooked grin reminiscent of his old self. “It was my job—I’m just sorry I couldn’t get the others out.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Rest. It’ll be months before we make it home.”

He paused at the door and looked back at her. “When you’re better, maybe you’ll consider thanking me more enthusiastically.” He grinned at the look she gave him. “Just kidding—unless, of course, you change your mind.”

Exhausted, Anya settled back against the pillow and closed her eyes when he’d left. The pain from her wound seemed to have subsided somewhat, but the emptiness still ached. Melanie had been among those lost. They hadn’t been the best of friends, or even friends for very long, but she felt the loss keenly and shock and sorrow at all the others who hadn’t made it out.

After a while exhaustion took its toll and she drifted.

Horror filled her when she opened her eyes and found herself drifting in space, surrounded by cold and darkness. She screamed, but no sound emerged because there was no air to carry it.

She saw the pale white of his robes first, the golden hair drifting around his head like strands of hair floating on water. In the next moment, he was floating before her, grasping her upper arms tightly, pulling her against his hard length and murmuring words to her that she couldn’t understand but somehow knew were the words of a lover. A feeling of tremendous relief and gladness swept through her. She was safe. Legion had found her.

* * * *

With an odd mingling of gladness and distress Anya roused toward consciousness. Yawning, she yielded to the urge to stretch, feeling both pleasure and pain as the movement pulled at her muscles and joints popped. She encountered a barrier with the luxurious stretching of her frame, however, that brought her to full alertness. Startled, she opened her eyes. The surprise turned to confusion when she discovered that she was inside a sleep pod.

What was she doing here?

Frowning thoughtfully, she searched her memory. They flooded into her mind the moment she beckoned, filling it with the same distress and horror she’d felt as she watched the space platform disintegrate. She realized after a few moments, though, that she couldn’t bring forward any memories beyond that.

It disturbed her, sent a cold chill of uneasiness through her.

Swallowing against the dryness in her throat, she searched for the release to exit the pod. The hiss of air escaping filled her ears as the cover lifted. The temperature difference between the air in the pod and outside of it created a fog around her, blinding her briefly. It was a struggle to get out, but she managed after a few aborted tries and stood shakily beside the pod for several moments, trying to figure out why she felt so weak, glancing uneasily around the cabin when she realized none of the other pods were occupied.

Why was she in a sleep pod? How had she gotten there?

Why couldn’t she remember anything at all beyond drifting to sleep in the sick bay after they’d escaped?

Naked and shivering from the coolness as well as nerves, trying to shake off the fear that she was alone, Anya grabbed the suit that had been left folded at the end of her pod and got into it. The gooseflesh that had pulled at her skin all over her body, making it feel as if it was too tight for her, began to abate once she was dressed. The chill from her anxiety didn’t.

She finally found the crew—what was left of it—in the rec room. They’d been bantering with one another until she stepped into the opening to the room. Laine spied her first. One by one the others ceased talking and turned to stare at her.

Without exception, everyone stared at her as if they’d seen a ghost.

She frowned. “What happened? Why was I in a pod?”

Russo, the nearest, seemed to come out of his shock first. Surging to his feet, he approached her, grasping her around the shoulders and walking her to a seat. “Why don’t you sit down before you fall down?” he said gruffly.

She hadn’t realized how close she was to collapsing until she’d felt the support he offered. She flicked a faint smile of appreciation at him as she settled and he moved away again.

“How are you feeling?” Laine asked, his tone sounding strange.

She frowned, doing a mental search. “Weak.”

The men in the room exchanged glances. Laine shrugged. “You’ve been in the pod a while. I suppose it’s understandable.”

“How long?”

He seemed reluctant to tell her, but apparently realized there was no point in beating around the bush. “Since we escaped … pretty much. Do you remember?”

Anya shuddered. “Yes.” She looked around at the men in the room. “We’re the only ones?”

“Dillon, Pike, and Cooper are on the bridge,” Laine responded tersely. “But, otherwise, we’re it.”

Seven—including her. She swallowed against the wave of nausea that realization produced. “You still didn’t tell me how long I was in the pod,” she persisted after a moment.

Burk chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re almost home! Lucky you. You slept through most of the trip.”

She stared at him in disbelief. Somehow, she didn’t feel lucky. No wonder she was so weak! “Months!”

Laine’s lips tightened with irritation. “You’re the med officer, Rambo! I couldn’t wake you up when I went to check on you. We thought, at first, that you were just sleeping, but … we decided you’d slipped into a coma and since none of us knew what to do about it, we put you in the pod until we could get home and get medical help. Command advised us.”

She nodded tiredly. What was the point in arguing, particularly since she didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects beyond the weakness—which was probably a natural side effect of an unusually long hypersleep? “I don’t suppose I could get food?”

Laine got up at once and sauntered toward the food unit. He returned a few minutes later with a sloshing bowl and cup. Anya felt her stomach growl at the smell wafting off the soup, but disappointment filled her, as well. “Soup? I’m starving.”

He grinned at her. “Sorry, doc! You know the drill. Nothing but clear liquids now.”

She sighed, knowing he was right and still irritated to have to slurp liquids when what she really wanted was food! She discovered fairly quickly that it probably wouldn’t have done her any good if he’d given her what she wanted. She wasn’t even able to get much of the soup down and, once she had, all she really wanted to do was sleep again.

Laine scooped her up and carried her to her quarters. His high-handedness annoyed her, but she was obliged to admit she might not have made it under her own steam. He’d barely settled her on her bunk and left when she dozed off.

“Anya!”

There was anger in the tone, but something else, as well—relief? Fear?

She turned and saw him moving swiftly toward her across the glade, and then, before she could decide whether she was glad to see him or frightened of him, he’d reached her, enveloping her in an embrace so tight it hurt. He eased his hold almost as soon as the pain reached her awareness, however. Slipping his arms from around her, he gripped her upper arms in a tense hold, scowling at her angrily.

“Where were you? I could not find you! I thought ….”

She studied him curiously, more than a little unnerved by his anger, but confused both by the admission that he hadn’t been able to reach her and the anguish she saw in his eyes that she suspected was the root of his anger. “Captain Laine said I was in a coma—He thought I was, anyway. I suppose I must have been … which I don’t guess is much of a surprise, really. I should be dead.”

“You should not be dead! I would not allow it. I held your life force, repaired the damaged tissues. I have studied the physiology of your species carefully. I did it right. I know that I did! You should not have slept so deeply I could not reach you!” He paused, obviously considering the possibilities. “It is because they took you from me before you were completely healed!”

She studied his achingly handsome face, feeling sorrow slowly fill her as it dawned on her that this must be a dream. She’d seen him die with the others. “You aren’t real. You’re dead. I saw the platform destroyed. Everyone died.”

He made a derisive sound. “The other life forms perished. If I was so easily destroyed, I would not have ….”

“The other life forms …,”she said when he broke off, feeling a terrible anguish coil inside of her—and anger. “Life forms—They were people, damn it! People I knew … friends!”

His expression hardened. “I did not take their lives from them. They perished at their own hands.”

“Because you manipulated them, controlled them.”

He was silent for several moments. “I would not have done anything that would endanger you. I manipulated their minds—seduced them, as you called it. I did not control their actions.”

“And they’re dead because you did!”

“They would have tried to destroy me if I had not—as they nearly destroyed you!”

“That was an accident. They didn’t mean to hurt me,” she said angrily.

She had the sense that he had been about to point out that they had fully intended to cause him harm, maybe because she knew they had, but he seemed to catch himself, consider what she’d said.

“And it is forgivable because they did not mean to cause harm?” he asked curiously. “You are not angry with them? You do not think I should have avenged the wrong because they did not succeed?”

Anya made a sound of irritation. “Of course I’m angry! They shot me! I nearly died, but I don’t hate them, knowing they never intended for me to be hurt. I didn’t wish them harm.”

“Why are you angry with me, then, when you must know that I did not mean to cause harm?”

“How am I supposed to know that? How can I believe that when it’s obvious you feel no remorse?”

He frowned at her. “Explain remorse,” he commanded.

Anya shook her head at him, realizing abruptly that he didn’t feel remorse because he didn’t know how. It wasn’t just that the people who’d died had meant nothing to him. It wasn’t even just that he saw them as lesser beings and therefore insignificant. He wasn’t human. He hadn’t even understood death.

“I do not understand your species,” he said tightly. “I have not had time to observe and come to understand all.”

“But once you do, you think you’ll be able to feel all the things that we feel?” she asked skeptically.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Your arrogance, human, is only surpassed by your ignorance!” he growled.

Chapter Six

Anya gasped in a harsh breath when she woke. The emotions roiling inside of her from the dream remained distressingly fresh—even the images remained as vibrant as if it was a memory, not a dream.

Rubbing her eyes and then wiping away the perspiration that had dampened her face, she discovered her hand was shaking. She stared at her hand for a long moment, trying to will the shaking away, and finally pushed her covers aside, sitting up.

She felt—wrung out, as if she’d been struggling in her sleep.

She hadn’t even struggled in the dream.

It had to be a dream—this time.

The thought made her throat close. He was gone and she’d hardly even begun to know him. She didn’t know what distressed her more, that or the fact that he had told her that he was the last of his kind and now even he was dead—an entire race of people.

What had happened to them? How could a race with such amazing abilities have been wiped from existence?

He’d claimed he was a god.

He was certainly arrogant—not very surprising, she supposed, given the things she knew he was capable of and might be capable of—but she realized that wry amusement had threaded his voice when he’d told her that. Actually, he’d basically told her that his people, or he, had been perceived as gods by more primitive people, which also wasn’t that surprising. She remembered suddenly that he had asked her if there were legends of ‘gods’ like himself in the history of mankind.

She’d ignored the question, irritated by it. She realized now, though, that there had been hopefulness in the question. I have found no others. He thought the physical similarities might indicate that the human race was genetically connected to his own.

Maybe they were. How astronomical were the chances, she wondered, that they would be so physically similar and not derived from the same gene pool?

Then again, even though it had become an established scientific fact that some people had capabilities beyond the normal range of human abilities, there were certainly none capable of doing anything like he was and wouldn’t those extraordinary abilities have been passed down through genetics?

Too watered down by the influx of another gene pool entirely?

Maybe.

Did it matter now, when he and all of his kind were lost forever?

Shaking that thought off, she got up and bathed. She felt stronger than she had when she’d woken in the pod, not as shaky, at any rate.

A jolt went through her when she surveyed her reflection in the mirror in the bath.

There wasn’t a sign—at all—of the near fatal wound she’d sustained, no scar tissue, no reddened or pink healing skin. Her chest was as unblemished as if nothing had ever happened.

She might almost have been convinced that the incident had been nothing more than a nightmare except everything she’d been told by the others supported the actuality of it.

No wonder they’d all behaved so strangely around her!

When she’d dressed, she went in search of food. The mess hall was empty except for ensign Steven Pike. He blushed when she entered the room, then paled, studying her surreptitiously while she got her food and beverage. She joined him at the table. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re busy doing the final checks.”

Anya frowned curiously. “Final checks?” she echoed.

Pike nodded. “We’ll be docking at the space port in a few hours.”

“Earth’s space port?”

He blushed again. “I keep forgetting you’ve been in the pod. Yeah, we’re almost home.”

No doubt it was easy to forget she was in the pod, she thought derisively, since it seemed she’d been there almost from the time they’d escaped the destruction of ‘lucky’ number thirteen, Staging Platform Thirteen.

He didn’t linger to chat. In fact, he seemed extremely uncomfortable in her presence. She didn’t know what to make of that, particularly since she barely knew him. When she’d finished her own semi-liquid and completely unappetizing meal, she went to the bridge to see if she was needed in any capacity.

She couldn’t help but notice that everyone looked at her strangely. It wasn’t just Pike that was uncomfortable around her. Even Captain Laine’s gaze slid away from her. “We’ve got everything under control.”

Their discomfort made her uncomfortable—and vaguely angry—particularly when she couldn’t quite figure out the reason for it. No doubt they all knew about her amazing recovery since she’d awakened in the pod naked—which meant at least Laine had had an opportunity to thoroughly examine her—but that still didn’t seem an adequate explanation for them behaving so strangely toward her. It wasn’t as if she’d done it herself!

Nodding, Anya lingered for a few moments, staring at the forward view screen where she could see the bright blue globe in the distance that she’d longed for a sight of, and finally left the bridge. After a little thought, she headed for the med center. Positioning the scanner, she climbed onto the gurney and activated it, staring absently at the ceiling while it performed the scan, her thoughts wandering from the way everyone was behaving toward her to the dream she’d had.

Why, she wondered, was she still dreaming of Legion as she had before he had died? It hadn’t been an ‘ordinary’ dream. It had been like those she’d had before, which hadn’t been true dreams at all.

She wasn’t entirely certain she understood what he’d done before, but it had certainly been more than telepathy—or at least telepathy as she understood it. Telepaths could communicate ideas or word streams, generally in short bursts that ‘sounded’ like broken English or a child’s speech patterns. They could get complex thoughts across, for all that, but she hadn’t met one that was able to communicate as easily with their mind as they could their vocal chords and certainly not at such a distance or with images that made it seem to her mind that she was standing next to them. Telepathy as she knew it was nothing more than ‘voices’ in the mind.

What he’d done was similar, she thought, to the way she’d heard transmigration, or out-of-body experiences, described. Those who had those abilities, though, generally appeared as apparitions, not entirely substantial, clearly nothing more than a spirit form, but that was to the conscious mind, not the subconscious.

Maybe he had only seemed so ‘solid’ and real because he’d invaded her subconscious mind?

The buzzer indicating the end of the scan cycle brought her mind from its wanderings and she got off of the gurney to check the readings. She was still puzzling over them when Laine poked his head into the room.

“We need to talk.”

Since Anya found her scan somewhat unnerving—disturbing in the sense that she was in peak physical condition with no sign whatsoever of damage, even repaired damage, to her heart, she turned the computer off and gave him her full attention.

Laine scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck, massaging it absently. “I assume you realize the debriefing is probably going to be damned unpleasant?”

She hadn’t actually thought about it, but she felt her belly tighten into an uneasy knot at his prompting. “I’ve had too much on my mind since I woke up to give it any thought,” she admitted, “but I don’t doubt it. Is that why you’re here? To find out what I’ll be telling them?”

He looked irritated. “Something like that.”

Exactly that, she thought, feeling anger join her uneasiness. “Well, since I hadn’t had time to think about it, I have no idea.”

He seemed to tamp his impatience with an effort. “How much do you remember?”

“Not a hell of a lot,” she responded promptly, “Certainly not much of anything about the battle or our escape. That’s pretty much a blur. I was barely conscious and that only part of the time. I remember everyone was shooting. I remember that I realized they’d taken the inhibitors off—the running. I was in too much pain even the little time I was conscious to focus on much of anything else.”

He seemed to relax fractionally. “I think we’re going to have a problem with that.”

“What sort of problem?” Anya asked, although she had a feeling she knew.

He gnawed his inner lip uneasily. “There’s no sign you were ever injured—no outward sign, anyway. I see you did a med scan, though …?”

Anya abruptly felt nausea well inside of her. “The scan didn’t bring up anything either.”

“Which means they aren’t going to buy into any of your story—or ours. We don’t have anything to support our version of the truth.”

* * * *

Expecting to be questioned as soon as they docked, Anya didn’t know whether to be relieved at the brief reprieve or more unnerved when they were shuttled down immediately from the space port to the surface. She didn’t actually have time to feel any real relief, however. They were met by an escort as soon as they debarked, marched to the shuttle docks and inside a waiting shuttle, and then left the space port behind less than an hour after they’d first arrived—a strong indication, she thought, that they should be very worried. When the shuttle settled on the landing pad on the roof of the SSRED (Science and Space Research, Exploration, and Development) administration building, they were met by yet another security detachment and escorted to a conference room on the fiftieth floor where a room full of men and women awaited them.

Anya couldn’t resist sending Laine an uneasy glance as she and the other survivors took their seats.

The head of the SSRED began the interrogation, to her surprise, by asking what her findings had been on the alien artifact. Anya didn’t glance at Captain Laine that time, although it startled her that they seemed more interested in the alien artifact than the lives lost, or even the fortune that had been tied up in the staging platform.

She cleared her throat, trying to think where to start. “You didn’t get my preliminary report?”

The man glanced down at the reader lying on the table in front of him. “We did. We’d like to hear what isn’t in the report—your personal observations and impressions. Tell us the … story from the beginning when the artifact was first spotted.”

It dawned on Anya forcefully that she hadn’t actually considered that she would be giving a report on an object, and an alien, that no one had ever seen beyond her and the crew of SP-13. Or that, with the SP-13 destroyed along with more than half the crew, she had no one to back her up but men who were just as suspect as she was of incompetence—at the very least—if not criminal negligence.

Because if one eliminated Legion from the equation—and the committee could very well dismiss their claim—it was a foregone conclusion that the crew, and only the crew, was responsible for what had happened.

The SP-13 was gone. There was no incident recording from the onboard computer. There was no proof at all beyond her word—no artifact, not even the record of the scans she’d performed. She hadn’t sent those with her reports because she’d hoped to decipher them herself. “I … I wasn’t actually there when it was first spotted,” she stammered, stalling for time.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Close enough … from what you said in your report.”

Anya nodded, diving for the glass of water that had been set on the table in front of her. Not surprisingly, the water was tepid, not cold, but it at least moisturized her bone dry mouth and gave her a few moments to compose her thoughts.

Not that that really helped. If she left out any part of what had happened, it would be obvious that there were holes in her story, and yet, if she told all, how likely were they to believe it?

They were going to send the lot of them down for a psyche evaluation when the meeting was over and, when they were done, her and the rest of the crew were very likely going to be facing charges, she thought a little sickly.

“Most of the crew was in the rec room celebrating the completion of SP-13 when the proximity alarm went off,” she began, deciding she could at least omit the part where most of them had been drunk, or half way there. “The crew scattered to stations immediately to determine what the threat was and how bad.” She left out the part about abandoning two of the crew members when they’d abandoned ship, too, but, since there seemed no hope for it, told them about the strange behavior she’d observed in the crewmembers and her suspicion that it was somehow related to the artifact.

“Why would you associate the behavior of the crew with the artifact?” one of the scientists cut in. “You don’t think it might merely have been space dementia?”

“My first thought was space dementia,” she admitted. “It seemed unlikely, though, that the entire crew would be exhibiting symptoms all at the same time, particularly when no one had shown any signs of it before we’d retrieved the object. Then, too, I discovered that all of the female crew members had had dreams—which sounded almost like the same dream.”

“Dreams? But you decided it wasn’t a dream?” one of the other scientists asked, her voice carefully neutral.

“I didn’t actually get the chance to interview them. They’d begun to behave … strangely. But Melanie—Dr. McPherson—told me about the man she’d seen in her dreams and also that Cpl. Carol Nix had told her she’d had the same dream—or at least dreamed of the same man. They’d had conversations with him.” She wasn’t about to tell them that Legion had seduced them in their dreams! “I had a similar dream where he showed me an alien world and told me it was the world he’d come from.”

She was sweating bullets by the time she’d finished relating her tale and was able to draw a tentative breath of relief as the interrogators moved on to Captain Laine. Five hours later, Carl Melton, the head of SSRED finally called an end to the ‘meeting’. They were told to report for a complete physical the following morning—which Anya realized a little sickly would certainly include that psyche evaluation she’d worried about—after which they would meet again to clear up remaining questions about what had happened on the space border.

She wondered if, after the psyche evaluation, once they’d probed her mind and the minds of the others and discovered everything they believed had happened, they would simply lock them all away in a psyche ward—or order a complete ‘readjustment’.

Unnerved by their situation, Anya paused by Carl Melton as the others filed out. “There might be some chance of retrieving at least a part of the artifact,” she suggested a little hopefully, realizing that if they found even a small piece it would bear up some of their story. “It had obviously survived a very long journey through space. I wasn’t able to determine what it was made of, but certainly materials like we’ve never seen.”

Carl Melton smiled thinly. “Oh, you’re absolutely right about that, Dr. Rambo. In point of fact, we have the artifact and it’s completely intact.”

Anya felt her jaw go slack with shock. Her mind erupted into chaos. “Here?” she finally managed to ask in a hoarse croak. “How? You’re sure it’s the sarcophagus we recovered?”

“You think there might have been more than one?” he asked sarcastically. “I’m reasonably certain it’s the same, yes—and without a scratch on it, which begs the question ….”

Anya stared at him blankly, still too stunned to gather her wits. “What question?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of how much faith we can place in the story you concocted. We’re finding it difficult to reconcile the story we’ve gotten from the crew with our findings.”

What findings, she wondered? She didn’t ask, knowing he wasn’t about to tell her anything that she might use to defend herself. “Legion?”

His shaggy white brows met over the bridge of his nose. “Legion?” he echoed.

“The alien—he was in ….” She broke off and licked her lips. “Is he …?”

Melton gave her a strange look. “The artifact was empty.”

* * * *

Anya kept her shoulders straight and her bearing unconcerned until she’d stepped inside the quarters assigned to her and closed the door behind her. She slumped wearily against the panel, however, once it had slid closed, covering her face with a shaking hand.

“You are not well?”

The voice might have jerked a scream out of her if she’d been able to find her own voice. She shook all over, sucked in a sharp breath, and whipped her head around to scan the room. Legion rose from the chair where he’d obviously been waiting for her.

“How did you …?” So many questions swarmed her mind, she couldn’t choose which to voice first.

His dark blond brows rose. “I told them to bring you here,” he said calmly, “although …” He paused to survey the cramped room. “I can not say that I am favorably impressed. Still, they did not seem to have facilities that were more comfortable. Is this a typical sort of domicile for your species?”

Anya found that she was still too stunned to really follow his comments. It occurred to her, briefly, to question his remark that he’d had them bring her, but she realized almost as soon as the thought formed that she knew how he’d done it, that she didn’t doubt, at all, that he was fully in control of that, at least. “But … how did you get here?”

Again, he sent her a look of surprise as if she shouldn’t have had to ask. “The liezarct, of course. This body is fragile. I must have the liezarct to insure that it is not damaged. Otherwise, I am forever repairing the thing and that can be tedious.”

Feeling abruptly as if she might faint, Anya wobbled toward the bunk and wilted onto it.

Legion’s eyes lit immediately with possibilities. One moment he was standing on the opposite side of the room, the next he was pushing her down onto the bunk, nuzzling his face along the side of her neck. “I have missed you so, Anya. Let us fuck and then talk later.”

Anger flickered to life. Anya shoved at his shoulder. Fortunately, he was obliging enough to roll off of her. She could never have budged him if he hadn’t. He settled on his side, his head supported by his hand as he studied her. He frowned slightly after a moment. “You appear … unwell. You are certain you are not ill?”

Anya stared at him for a long moment and finally looked away, staring at the ceiling instead. “Thank you for the compliment! My god! This is a nightmare!”

“You said that you did not believe in mythical beings,” he pointed out, amusement threading his voice.

Anya glanced at him blankly. “Oh! Figure of speech. I hadn’t actually considered …. Damn it! Are you in my mind?”

He frowned, looked vaguely affronted. Though why he should she was sure she didn’t know when he had a bad habit of delving into her thoughts whenever the mood struck him and ‘visiting’ her mind! “I am here … in flesh,” he elaborated.

She sat up. “How did you get here? Why are you here? How did you get here before we did, for that matter?”

Grasping her arm, he dragged her down again, his gaze warm as it roamed her face. “I told you how. You know why. As for the last ….” He shrugged. “I trailed your ship for a time, but it was tedious. Do not take insult, but it is a very slow convenience. I grew impatient to explore my new home and decided to come ahead and do so while I waited for you.”

“Your new home?” Anya asked faintly. “Why didn’t they find you in the sarcoph … the liezarct?”

He grinned, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek lightly before he molded his palm to it. “I like the way you say that. I found it … charming the way you pronounced it … but it was a very good effort,” he added when she glared at him. “Shall I teach you more of my native tongue? It would please me a very great deal if you would speak it. I have not heard ….”

Anya felt a curious pang when he broke off. He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. She knew he must miss his home world and his own people terribly.

It took an effort to push the thoughts, and the discomfort it caused her, aside to focus on the questions she needed answered.

Several emotions flickered across his face in quick succession, irritation among them. He seemed to dismiss it. “You have a great capacity for empathy, beloved, but you need not squander it on me. I am resilient. I do miss my home and my people, but their passing was long, long ago, even in my memory.”

She eyed him doubtfully, but decided not to challenge him on it since it was obvious he resented her sympathy, regardless of the preceding comment that seemed to indicate he admired, or at least appreciated, her sensitivity. “You make my head hurt,” she said irritably. “You haven’t explained anything!”

“I have explained everything,” he replied promptly, frowning at her curiously. “How do I make your head hurt?”

She uttered an irritated huff. “Trying to figure out what you’re doing here. How you got here … everything!”

He considered that thoughtfully for several moments. “You suspect me of … subterfuge,” he said finally.

“It did cross my mind,” she retorted dryly.

He seemed to struggle for a moment, as if he was trying to decide if the comment amused him or annoyed him. “I have no need to be.”

She sent him a look. “You aren’t going to make a lot of friends around here if you’re going to be brutally honest about everything.”

“But I can not make friends with you if I am dishonest. You do not respect dishonesty.”

“You’re … trying to make friends?” she asked curiously. “Why?”

“I want to be your friend, companion, protector, lover … mate. This is what you require to consider a male worthy of your regard.”

Despite the pang that caused her, Anya didn’t know whether to laugh or hit him. “You’re not going to make friends with me if you don’t stop messing around inside my head!” she snapped. “I value my privacy above just about everything else!”

He looked irritated. “How am I to learn what pleases you if I am not allowed to do that?”

“You’ll have to figure it out … just like everybody else! Anyway, that’s not the way it’s done! You have to be yourself, be your true self, not try to be something you aren’t! I have to like you for yourself, and vice versa, otherwise it’s not real. It’s just … play and then we would both be hurt and angry to discover we had fallen for a delusion.”

“This sounds unnecessarily complicated,” he said flatly. “Do mates not strive to please one another?”

“To an extent, of course they do.” She sighed tiredly. “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation.”

“I am trying to understand your species and, more specifically, you. I am pleased, of course, that you are intelligent and complex—I do not like to be bored—but I can not see that we can coexist in harmony without understanding. If you will not allow me to explore your mind at will—which I find very unreasonable given the limitations of your language—then I do not see any other way to discover what I wish to know without conversation.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to accept you as a … mate?” she demanded, aghast.

He looked definitely affronted at that remark. “Why would you not?” he asked tightly. “You do not find me displeasing.”

“Sorry. Look, I don’t want a mate, alright? Even if I did—as you pointed out yourself—we aren’t the same species.”

“But we are compatible.”

“In what way?” she asked dryly.

“Physically.”

She shook her head. “That isn’t enough for me. Don’t get me wrong! The sex was great …. At least, it seemed that way in the dream. I enjoyed fucking you, as you so elegantly put it, and I’m not saying I wouldn’t be interested in doing it again, but that isn’t what I’m looking for.”

“You are looking for a man who has ceased to exist except in your memories.”

Anya felt her throat close. “I know he’s gone and I can never get him back, but I’m not willing to settle for less than I had with him. I loved him with all my heart and he loved me. I’d rather be alone than live with a man who didn’t love me, and whom I didn’t love.”

He was silent for several moments, obviously wrestling with his thoughts. “Would it please you if I looked like him?”

Anya glanced at him sharply, her gaze flickering over his face while she digested that and it dawned on her that he wasn’t human regardless of his appearance. He wasn’t asking if he would be more acceptable to her if he looked like Jeremy because he wanted reassurance that he was acceptable as he was. He was asking because he could make himself appear to be Jeremy. Fury swept through her. “Don’t you dare!” she cried hoarsely, jolting from the bunk to glare at him through the tears that abruptly clouded her vision. “Don’t even consider it! I would never, ever forgive you for that!”

He sat up, studying her in baffled anger. “If the notion does not please you, you need only say so,” he said stiffly.

Anya swallowed against the emotion clogging her throat. “Get out! Just go!”

He stood. Instead of leaving, however, he moved closer, lifting a hand to trace the dampness on her cheeks. “What is this?”

“Nothing for you to analyze, damn you!” she cried angrily, struggling to keep from sobbing. “Just go away!”

“Sorrow?” He focused on her face as if he could enter her mind … because he could, and he did, trespassing where he had no right. “You are afraid because you want this.”

“It wouldn’t be real!” she sobbed. “You aren’t him. I couldn’t bear it if you looked like him! I couldn’t!”

He pulled her against him despite her resistance, tucking her head against his shoulder. “I can take this pain from your mind,” he said gruffly. “Take the memories away. I do not like to see you hurt, beloved.”

“No!” she exclaimed, desperation in her voice as she tried to shove away from him. “I don’t want you to take him away from me! I won’t let you! It’s all I’ve got left!”

He manacled his arms around her until she stopped struggling because she was too tired to continue. Smoothing the damp hair from her cheek, he dipped his head until his lips were only a fraction of an inch from her ear. “Sleep, Anya.”

Blackness descended over her mind like a curtain going down.

Chapter Seven

If Anya hadn’t been so miserable, she might have laughed at the sight of Captain Laine wearing one of the horrible gowns she’d been given to wear. It was hardly a laughing matter, even if she’d hadn’t been distressed, and yet she still felt a faint flutter of amusement as she surveyed his hairy, knobby knees beneath the hem of the examination gown.

“I’m glad you can see some humor in this,” Laine growled, slouching into the hard, straight backed chair beside her and crossing one ankle over one aforesaid knobby knee.

The brief lightening of her mood shifted. “I suppose it would make you feel better if I was wailing and rocking myself?”

He flicked an irritated glance at her. “Oh you are feeling sprightly today!”

“I feel like you look … like shit,” she said tartly.

Russo, who’d just come from another examination room, uttered a snorting laugh and settled on her other side.

“You think that’s funny, Russo?” Laine growled.

Russo shrugged. “Funniest thing I’ve heard all day. Beats the shit out of ‘bend over’.”

Laine scowled at him. “Yeah. What the shit was that all about anyway? You think their scanner’s broke?”

“It wasn’t when they used it on me,” Anya volunteered. “You know the drill, Laine. Over six months in space, you get an ‘in depth’.”

“Yeah, well that was a little deeper than I wanted them to go,” Russo groused.

“And this is the fun part,” Anya agreed. “Can’t wait till we get to the psyche eval.

There’s nothing I like better than having someone screw with my head.”

When neither Laine nor Russo commented, she glanced at Laine. He was sitting perfectly still, his eyes glazed—as if he’d suddenly been ‘turned off’. After staring at him blankly in surprise for a moment, she turned to look at Russo and discovered he looked as frozen as Laine.

Movement in front of her redirected her attention and she discovered Legion standing before her. He crouched until he was eye level with her. “What is this psyche eval?”

Discomfort overshadowed her surprise as Anya met his gaze and then alarm. She glanced around but, thankfully, there was no one else in sight. “What are you doing here? And what did you do to Laine and Russo?”

He glanced at the two men a little impatiently. “I did nothing to either of them.”

Anya eyed him in patent disbelief. “They’re frozen. They don’t even look like they’re breathing.”

“It is …,” he paused, frowning thoughtfully, “a ripple in time. It moves differently for you and I, now, than it does for them.”

Anya felt coldness sweep through her. Her mouth went dry, but doubt never entered her mind that he’d done what he’d said he’d done. “Why?”

He tilted his head. “I wanted to be alone with you. You are distressed about what is happening here. What is it that they are doing?”

“A medical and psyche exam—to determine if we’re crazy or just lying.”

His gaze flickered over her face. “Because the space platform was destroyed?”

Anya shook her head wryly. “It isn’t the tests, although they aren’t particularly pleasant.”

“Then what?”

She looked away. “The space platform cost a substantial sum of money—money that was lost when it was destroyed. They want somebody to blame.”

“What are the consequences if they decide that you are to blame?”

“That depends on what they blame on us, really. If they decide we’re responsible for the deaths of our fellow crewmembers—jail. If they decide that that was an accident but that we were negligent and caused the deaths and the destruction of the space platform, then more jail. I don’t think there’s much chance they aren’t going to blame something on us. This is just to determine how much we can be held responsible for, to see if there is evidence of mental defect or disease. If we’re completely healthy, mentally and physically, which we are, then we’re totally screwed.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I will take you away from here and then they can not blame you.”

Anya stared at him in disbelief. “Even supposing I’d agree to that—and I don’t—you think I could live with knowing they were blamed when they’re no more responsible than I am?”

“Why would you not go?”

“I just told you why—because it isn’t right. We’ll hire lawyers and fight this. It isn’t your problem.”

He straightened abruptly. “You said that it was my fault before.”

Anya sighed. “Because I thought so before.” But mostly because she’d been angry and wanted somebody to blame.

“And now you do not?”

She looked up at him, studying his face, realizing abruptly that she knew there was no evil in him, despite what she’d feared in the beginning. “I don’t think you meant for any of that to happen. I’m not sure what you were trying to do, but I can’t think of any reason you would’ve wanted that.”

“And this is why you have decided that I am not at fault? Because you can not think of a reason why I would want it to happen?”

His voice was carefully neutral, but she knew he distrusted her sudden ‘faith’ in him. It relieved her in a way. The thought had occurred to her that he might have been playing around in her mind, that her perceptions might not actually be her own. She chewed her lip. Finally, she heaved a sigh. “Partly, but also because I don’t think you’re either careless or destructive. I think, if anything, it was just that you didn’t understand what your interference might cause.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “So I am not guilty because I am ignorant or lack intelligence or perhaps both?”

She gave him a look. “I hadn’t noticed you being so prickly before. You told me that you didn’t completely understand our species,” she said pointedly.

Irritation flickered across his features.

She studied him a moment and felt amusement waft through her, realizing he was torn between annoyance of any suggestion that he wasn’t always in complete control and knew exactly what he was doing and an equal desire to assure her that he had not intended harm to come to the people on the space platform. He also didn’t want to have to actually apologize.

Maybe he wasn’t so different from humans after all?

“You made me an offer last night that was … kindly intended,” she said after a moment, knowing it hadn’t been kindness that had inspired it at all but rather an attempt to please her despite a strong reluctance to have to go to such lengths to win her over. “I behaved badly. I’m sorry I made you feel it was necessary to offer such a thing and, having done that, grew angry with you when you did. I’m willing to forgive you for hurting me by trespassing where you had no right if you’ll forgive me for being hurtful by willfully misunderstanding.”

He studied her for a long moment, his expression guarded. “I did not find it hurtful,” he said coolly, “only confusing. Your species is not very reasonable.”

It took several moments for her anger at the insult to break through the dam of surprise that speech produced. By the time it had, Legion had stalked off and vanished.

* * * *

Despite every effort to appear at the meeting the following morning fully alert, and therefore armed to defend herself, Anya had had a restless night and arrived feeling as if her head was stuffed with cotton. None of her fellow crewmembers looked to be in much better condition, but she doubted it was for the same reason.

At least not entirely.

A good bit of her restlessness, she knew, was the same as theirs—anxiety because she strongly suspected the meeting today would end with charges being lodged against them. That was enough to worry about and there shouldn’t have been room for personal concerns beyond that, but they’d crept in to disturb her rest just the same.

She’d dreamed about Legion the night before and this time there was no doubt that it was a dream. The dream had been disturbing—she couldn’t remember why once she woke—but it had been, and it should still have been a relief that it was no more than a dream.

Legion hadn’t intruded as he had had a very bad habit of doing since he’d first come into her life.

She thought what actually worried her, though, was his absence, or rather thoughts of what he might be doing instead. She had no idea what the extent of his powers might be, but he’d certainly managed to manipulate a crew of twenty men and women through their subconscious minds with ease. She still didn’t understand why he’d found it necessary, which was no comfort because that left her with no idea whether he would feel compelled to repeat it.

Maybe he’d felt threatened by the unknown? Maybe he hadn’t precisely felt threatened but had wanted to experiment to see how easily they were controlled? Neither possibility necessarily made him ‘evil’ but both made him dangerous.

She’d settled at the conference table with a cup of coffee and was sipping the hot brew carefully to keep from burning herself, idly examining the faces of the people entering the room and trying to decide if they looked vindictive enough to throw her and the entire crew in jail, when Legion strolled in as if he belonged. It took her a moment to recognize him, mostly, she thought, because his appearance was so unexpected but partly because he’d discarded the robes she was accustomed to seeing. Now wearing the blue-gray, molded one piece jumpsuit of a military man, he might have blended completely with the humans around him if not for the fact that he was so exceptional—exceptionally handsome, tall, broad shouldered, and well built—and his hair. He hadn’t bothered with the short cut the military proscribed, hadn’t even bothered to bind the long, flowing mass to give him a pseudo-severe military look.

Which could only mean that that hadn’t actually been his intention—to blend in.

Anya choked. Quickly setting the cup down before she spilled the entire contents, she covered her mouth and coughed until she’d managed to bring up the coffee she’d inhaled. By the time she’d done so, everyone—including Legion—had settled at the table.

Legion had settled in Carl Melton’s chair at the head of the table.

Carl Melton was standing beside him, his expression one of outrage. Everyone else was staring at Legion as if he had two heads.

So much for thinking he had used that time-bending thing to slip in and observe without anyone being the wiser!

“Excuse me,” Melton said tightly. “I believe that you have wandered into the wrong room.”

Legion looked up at him coolly. “I am certain that I am in the correct room.”

The moment he spoke a ripple of uneasiness made the circuit of the conference table. Even Melton looked visibly shaken. “You are sitting in my chair,” he managed to choke out in a strangled voice after a prolonged pause, gripping his reading device in white knuckled hands.

Legion seemed to consider that assertion thoughtfully. Finally, he stood, wandering around the room, looking it over curiously, and eventually paused to stare out of one window at the city below. Melton dropped weakly into the chair he’d vacated, watching Legion’s progress.

Everyone watched him.

They recoiled visibly when he turned to face them.

Actually, he didn’t seem to move at all, Anya reflected. One moment he was facing the window, the next he was facing them—which probably accounted for a good bit of everyone’s alarm. He scanned the faces of everyone at the table, pausing when he reached her. “I am Legion.”

Anya felt a shiver travel through her much like the one she’d first felt when she’d heard his strangely alien voice—not entirely the same. Her heart quickened this time with something that wasn’t fear, that was more closely akin to a thrill of excitement.

He was a remarkable being.

Struggle though she might to remind herself that he as flawed as anyone else she knew, she couldn’t shake a sense almost of pride in him—which was really incredibly stupid considering he didn’t belong to her!

Even if he hadn’t had the powers he did, she could see that he was awe inspiring enough by his presence alone to be beheld as god-like.

Melton found his voice first although it was obvious he was having the same trouble gathering his wits that Anya had had when she’d met Legion for the first time. “How …? Who are you? Why are you here?”

Legion frowned. “I am Legion. This, I have already said. I arrived in the liezarct—which you call a sarcophagus—and which your scientists are currently studying. I came because this is the home world of my woman,” he finished, nodding at Anya.

Anya felt the blood rush from her face and then return with a vengeance when everyone at the table turned almost as one to follow the direction he’d indicated. She opened her mouth and then closed it again without saying anything, realizing that the meeting was no place for a personal discussion regarding Legion’s arrogant assumption that she was his just because he said so.

The look Laine and the crewmembers bent upon her made her squirm in her seat.

“There was nothing in the leeza … uh … sarcophagus when it was opened!” one of the scientists at the table disputed, drawing Legion’s gaze.

Legion studied her for a long moment and then a faint smile curled his lips.

Anya could almost see the woman’s heat index rise. Irritation washed through her and, if she was honest, which she didn’t particularly want to be at the moment, jealousy.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on,” one of the other executives of SSRED said derisively, “but he’s no more alien than I am.”

Legion tilted his head curiously at the man. “You are human,” he responded after a moment.

“And so are you! This is nothing but a … parlor trick! He’s using some sort of voice altering device.”

Legion’s expression tightened. Clearly, he considered the remark an insult, which Anya found pretty insulting even though she supposed she could see the man’s point. Obviously, Legion hailed from a far superior race—more advanced, physically perfect, probably even a great deal more intelligent … and that was just the tip of the iceberg when she knew what else he was capable of. Don’t, she thought a little frantically when she realized he was considering proving he wasn’t human.

Legion flicked a glance at her. She had the impression that he was surprised even though it wasn’t apparent in his expression. Why?

For a moment, Anya thought he’d spoken aloud. It’s a trap.

He returned his attention to the scientist, eyeing him speculatively. What sort of trap?

They’ll want to study you. You don’t want that. Believe me, you don’t.

He glanced at her again. “I will allow it … to a point.”

“Allow what?” Melton demanded blankly.

Instead of answering, he seemed to compose his thoughts. “I had been wandering for a time in search of an intelligent species when I sensed the presence of your race in this system and decided to investigate. The presence of the habitat you refer to as a space platform intrigued me more since it was an indication of an advanced race. I decided to appease my curiosity and directed the liezarct there.

“The curiosity of the crew was another indication of higher intelligence that pleased me. I began to appease my own curiosity to learn more about you while they set about trying to learn about me.”

“You destroyed the SP-13!” Melton accused abruptly.

Legion looked at him at his outburst without surprise or anger. “I did not. I had no reason to do so. It was no threat to me, anymore than the crew was … or you are.”

It was at that point that Anya realized, along with everyone else, that the military attachment set to guard the meeting hadn’t moved by so much as a hair’s breadth since Legion had announced his presence. A stronger ripple of uneasiness washed over the assemblage, who began to murmur among themselves in rising alarm.

“You’ve … done something to the guards!”

“Yes,” Legion agreed mildly, looking approvingly at the female scientist who’d spoken to him before.

“If you don’t feel threatened, why?” Melton snapped.

Legion lifted his brows. “To protect you from them.”

Various expressions of doubt flickered over the faces of the men and women.

“It’s because I was hurt when the guards attacked him,” Anya volunteered.

“So you said!” Melton countered, turning his attention to her. “And yet, despite an exhaustive examination yesterday, the doctors were unable to detect any sign whatsoever of the injury you claimed!”

“Because he healed me! Laine! Tell them!”

Captain Laine shrugged. “I didn’t see it. For all I know he’s the one that did … whatever it was that was done. The men who supposedly attacked, and caught you in the crossfire, died … just like I said.”

Anya glared at him furiously when the shock of his betrayal receded. She hadn’t lied for him, but she’d certainly done her utmost not to direct any charges against him. So much for loyalty among crewmembers! “You told me yourself that Vance had managed to tell you I’d been hit when he set off the alarm and you knew I was alive because Cpl. Nix had been stationed in the infirmary to watch me! You are such an asshole! He only came here because they didn’t believe us. Now you’re trying to make it sound as if he’s to blame!”

“He is to blame!” Laine snarled. “He created a mutiny! We were gone by the time the space platform crumpled like a can! For all we know he did that, too!”

Anya shoved her chair back and stood abruptly. “They disengaged the inhibitors on their weapons! They filled the hull full holes! I might have been out of it, but I damned well remember that, and you can’t even claim that as excuse! You’re just outright lying because you see a chance to save your sorry ass!”

“You’re the one who told me he was manipulating the crew, Dr. Rambo! Unfortunately, I didn’t believe you, but I don’t see how I could’ve prevented what happened even if I had!”

Anya narrowed her eyes at him. “Maybe,” she said tightly, “if you’d been a little more focused on doing your job and a little less focused on fucking all of the female crewmembers you would’ve been able to figure it out! That’s a strong maybe, I know, since most of your brains reside below your waist line, but it might have been a possibility!”

“Order!” Melton demanded, pounding on the table top abruptly with his fist. “Are you lodging charges against Captain Laine?”

Anya glanced from Laine to Melton and then looked at Legion. Legion had folded his arms over his chest and settled his rump against the windowsill, obviously content merely to observe with lively interest.

It occurred to Anya forcefully that Legion had been just as busy screwing all of the female crewmembers as Laine had—far more effectively and subtly, but just the same …. On the other hand, Legion had had no responsibility toward the crew and Laine had.

It also occurred to her, although it hadn’t before, that that rivalry might have contributed to the mutiny. She had no idea what Legion had been doing in the minds of the male crewmembers to try to manipulate them into accepting him, but she thought, now, that that was his only aim—to smooth the way toward acceptance, to prevent the alarm and hostility now being directed at him. No doubt he was far more accustomed to inspiring fear, awe, and hostility in those of other races than friendliness. “It was your hostility toward Legion that caused the mutiny,” she said abruptly, with fresh insight born of her sudden realization. “What was it? You didn’t want him encroaching upon your ‘preserves’?”

Laine glared at her. “He was a menace. Unfortunately, by the time I realized it, he’d already clouded the judgment of most of the crewmembers—including you.”

Anya gaped at him. “I gave you no reason to suppose that I would turn on my fellow crewmembers in support of him! My interest was purely on a scientific level! To say nothing of the fact that I wasn’t even conscious when the mutiny broke out. And beyond that, we were under orders to bring it—the liezarct—him back!”

“It is because he knew that I had chosen you for myself,” Legion said coolly.

Anya looked at Legion sharply. “How would he …? Why would he think that?”

“Because I told him.”

“Carole said you’d chosen her!” Russo growled abruptly.

“He was just using her … like he was Mellie!” Cooper snapped angrily. “There wasn’t a woman on the crew that wasn’t fawning over him like he was some sort of … god … and willing to fight anyone who disagreed with them or tried to talk sense into them!”

“I made them no promises,” Legion said implacably. “I gave as much pleasure as I took for myself. I can not see that that is using, as you call it. Is it not using when you take pleasure with no regard for giving in return? I will not argue that they believed that I would chose them, but I told them plainly otherwise. I was very clear that I had chosen Anya as my mate.”

Anya stared at the men. It was one thing to suspect that the violence that had erupted was the result of an unseen battle for male dominance, entirely another to realize it had escalated to such proportions as to create the disaster it had. Anya settled weakly in her seat once more.

Clearly, despite what she’d thought, the other crewmembers were as responsible for the disaster as those who’d perished in the battle for control.

After giving each of the crewmembers a hard look, Melton dismissed them. “We will consider the new information that has come to light and come to a decision regarding the incident on SP-13,” he said tightly. “You are dismissed … for now.”

Anya was too angry to look at her fellow crewmembers—or Legion for that matter. She noted as she left the room, however, that the scientists and the board members of SSRED had all gathered around Legion.

The guards at the door relaxed, blinked, and looked around in confusion as she reached them. Mentally shaking her head at Legion’s disregard for her warning to him about allowing anyone to see how powerful he was, she left him to fend for himself.

He was certainly in no danger—at least not until the board members and scientists had had the chance to realize that he could be a danger to them.

He arrived in her quarters while she was standing in the shower, trying to use the heated water to pound the tension from her muscles. Her first awareness of his presence was when the water, which had been falling, began to spatter upwards. Jolted when she caught a glimpse of the palm redirecting the water, Anya whipped her head around to look at the owner.

Legion was studying the water bouncing off of his palm with an expression almost of fascination. “Primitive, but effective. It is oddly … soothing, is it not?”

Anya issued an irritated huff. “It was,” she muttered.

“It is not now?”

“I thought you were entertaining the SSRED bigwigs,” Anya said instead of responding directly to his question.

“I grew bored. I told them that I was far more interested in courting my woman.”

Anya sent him a startled look. “You didn’t!”

He shrugged. “You did not seem to care for it when I suggested we fuck. This, courting—this is the word used to describe the mating ritual, yes?”

“You don’t sound like it’s anything you’re familiar with,” she retorted dryly.

“I am not. I have not experienced this before—the sense that it is my time to take a mate. Truthfully, I had never considered it before, but I find it extraordinarily exhilarating now that I have thought of it.

“I am very accustomed to fucking. I enjoy that very much. But I gather that, to your mind, there is a difference between fucking merely for the sake of enjoying it and fucking for the purpose of procreation. I hope you will not expect me not to enjoy it, though. I am fairly convinced that it would not work if I did not.”

Anya met Legion’s gaze a little doubtfully and discovered his eyes were gleaming with amusement. The realization that he was teasing her hadn’t fully jelled in her mind, though, when he caught her and dragged her upwards to meet his kiss.

It didn’t occur to her to resist.

It did flicker through her mind to wonder if it could possibly feel as good as she’d dreamed it was.

It was everything she’d remembered and nothing like the kiss her subconscious mind had experienced when he’d come to her in her dreams. She felt the pressure of his hard mouth on hers. She felt the warmth of his body and the silky slick texture of his wet skin as he slipped her against his length, felt the flex and pull of his muscles as he encircled her with his arms and molded their bodies firmly together from chest to hip. She smelled the faint, heady essence of the man himself as his cheek grazed hers and his breath, heated by his body, fanned against her lips and, when his tongue skimmed her lips and then breached the threshold the moment they parted, she felt an explosion of keenly pleasurable sensations, felt a thousand impressions flit through her mind in a dizzying kaleidoscope.

Strong—big—hard—he made her feel small, fragile, desirable—protected. His touch as he explored her with his hands was sure, deft, firm and yet gentle, appreciative, and infinitely pleasurable. The thrust of his tongue inside the sensitive cavern of her mouth was determined, hungry, skillful, drawing forth quakes and jolts of sensation from every nerve ending, pouring heat through her, robbing her of breath and strength.

His taste was … indescribable, intoxicating, invigorating, draining her of will.

She clung to him with no idea when she’d reached for him in turn, digging her fingers into his hard muscles to try to counter the spiraling of her senses as her awareness of anything beyond what she felt faded away. A sound of pleasure purred from her chest as she met the assault of his tongue with her own, dueling with him, curling her tongue along his to taste him more fully.

Her mind careened sharply, abruptly, and then she felt the give of the mattress of her bed beneath her, surprise, confusion as the weight of his body settled upon her from above.

“Wet,” she gasped in mild complaint when he broke from her lips to explore her throat and she realized he’d, somehow, moved the two of them from the shower to the narrow bunk in her quarters, but the word had scarcely passed her lips when she realized they weren’t wet at all.

Warmth blossomed in her lower belly, tension coiling there, when he found his way to her breasts, massaging them, exploring the texture of her skin with his lips. The thrill of feeling his face pressed intimately against her was barely surpassed by the anticipation threading her veins. She gasped, arching her back as his mouth closed over the tender tip he’d been tormenting with the teasing, predatory approach of his lips for so long she’d begun to shake with anticipation. Stroking her fingers through his silky hair as he curled his tongue around her nipple and pulled at it with the exquisite suction of his mouth, she cradled his head to her breast for a moment, stroked his cheek, and then raked her fingers lightly along the hard muscles of his back.

A shudder went through him. She soothed him with the palms of her hands and then began kneading his taut flesh with her fingertips as he shifted his attentions to her other breast, managing no more than gasping little pants for breath.

She dragged her heavy eyelids upward to peer at his face as he lifted his head from her breasts and surged upward to match his lips to hers again, feeling an indescribable thrill rush through her as she scanned the taut planes of his face, saw heated need in his eyes that matched or surpassed the desire blossoming into fire in her belly.

She might have been with him a thousand times and felt no more at home in his arms, no more ‘right’, and yet the excitement of discovery was so thrilling and new she might never have known his touch at all.

The thought disturbed her, sent a flicker of doubt through her, but he banished it almost at once with the hunger of kiss, infusing her with the same sense of desperation she felt in his touch.

With eagerness, she opened herself to him as she felt his hand coast over one breast and along the center of her rib cage, across her belly, pushing at her thighs. The lips of her sex tingled at the brush of one long, thick index finger. She sucked in a sharp breath as he parted them, tracing a path from the mouth her sex toward the bud at the apex and teasing it.

He broke the kiss, lifting his head to watch her face as he gently stroked the tender flesh, drawing more tension inside of her with each knowing touch. A sense of impatience welled inside of her, the need for more, the need to strive for completion.

She opened her eyes to look up at him as his deep, rich voice washed over her in a husky murmur. Though she hadn’t a clue what words he spoke in his native tongue, the look on his face and the timber of his voice were enough to send a thrill through her.

Her throat closed with a mixture of emotion and desire as she gazed at him. “I need …! Legion!” she gasped.

A tremor traveled through him. His expression tightened, his eyes blazing with both triumph and heated desire. He wedged a knee between her thighs, pushing them wider to accommodate his hips and surged against her almost bruisingly before he caught his member and guided it along her excruciatingly sensitive cleft.

She shuddered, her heart thundering with anticipation as she felt the slick head of his cock parting her flesh, felt him enter her body, arching to meet him the moment she felt him breach the opening. He slipped a broad palm along her hip, curling his long fingers into the flesh of her buttock as he surged again, deepening their connection by frustrating degrees, sawing slowly and shallowly along her passage to gather her body’s moisture on his hardened shaft. The pressure was exquisite, created a deep ache she began to feel a desperation to assuage.

He spoke again, his voice ragged, feverish when he’d driven so deeply inside of her she could manage no more than panting breaths, but he spoke only one that she understood. “Anya!”

A shiver skated through her at the sound of her name from his lips. She lifted her arms to embrace him, coasting her palms down his broad, muscular back when she discovered the circumference of his wide chest was beyond her reach. His flesh rippled beneath her touch. His skin prickled. He sucked in a harsh breath and withdrew his cock as slowly along her passage as he’d claimed it and then thrust again, attaining a cadence in a few moments that scored her insides with heat, that teased the deep ache until she was mindless, feverish.

She clung to him, strove with him, holding her breath each time he penetrated her deeply enough to drive the ache a little higher, to make the tension inside her coil a little tighter. The first convulsion of her inner muscles pebbled her skin all over. She sucked in a sharp breath as it quaked again and then her body exploded with sensations so exquisite it dragged choked cries from her with each wave that ripped through her. “Legion!” she groaned and then gasped as the hard waves began to subside, “Oh god! Oh my god!”

He uttered a deep chested groan even as she reached the peak, stilled for a heartbeat, and then plunged into her faster and deeper, pumping his essence into her.

A low chuckle escaped him when he finally caught his breath. “You said you did not believe in gods, beloved.”

Anya managed to crack one eye a slit in an attempt to glare at him but discovered it was really too much effort. “You are so humorous,” she mumbled.

Chapter Eight

A shiver went through Anya as she opened her eyes and looked around. It was instantly obvious that she was neither on Earth or the world Legion had shown her that he’d told her was his home. She felt as if she was in a sauna/steam room. The air surrounding her was hot enough it burned her lungs and yet it was so heavy with moisture she felt as if she was drowning.

Lifting her head, she saw that a white star blazed overhead, but the haze of clouds and mist were so thick she could almost look directly at the white ball of fire. Pulling her gaze from the glaring light, she looked around again at the thick, jungle-like vegetation that surrounded the small clearing where she sat.

A sense of dread settled over her. As it was in many nightmares, she wasn’t certain why she felt the dread, only that she sensed a threat, brooding menace, as if something evil was watching her from the dense, alien growth. She felt no breeze, and yet she could see the strange plants shifting, hear the rustle of movement within its concealing fronds.

Living things were moving through the jungle surrounding her—big, small, and in between.

Her heart thundering in her chest, she pushed herself slowly to her feet, wondering if the creatures she sensed were moving toward her and how dangerous they might be. As she flicked a panicked gaze around, wondering where to run to, she spied it—the liezarct. It was open. She stared at it, too petrified to move, willing Legion to rise from it and assure her she was safe.

When minutes had passed and he didn’t, she tried to will her stiff limbs to move her toward it. She’d managed no more than a couple of steps, though, when a sudden great rustling behind her froze her in her tracks. Her head whipped in that direction in search of the threat.

It was shocked surprise that filled her when she saw what had made the noise, however, not terror.

Two small children had pushed through the vegetation. One was holding his arm, which was twisted at an impossible angle that made it clear it was broken, and in more than one place. His face was tight with pain. The other wore a sullen expression.

They were beautiful children, too young for their gender to be readily apparent, but so pretty, with long, almost white blond hair, she thought at first that it was two little girls. Somehow, though, she knew it was boys—twins—identical in every way except for the injury one child was nursing.

Her belly clenched painfully as she studied their little faces and knew abruptly who they belonged to. They were the image of their father—Legion. A wave of nauseating hurt washed through her that she didn’t want to identify.

“Stop whining,” the sullen child muttered. “It was not my fault.”

The injured child glared at him. “It was your fault, Zavier! I will tell mother when she comes for us and she will punish you for it!”

“She will not! She will look into my mind and yours and she will see that you were showing off or you would not have been hurt. I do not know why you do not just mend it!”

“I want to show Mother first,” the other child muttered sullenly.

“Well, she is not here! And she is not likely to be for a very long time, Legion! You might as well repair it yourself!”

Anya felt her chest tighten at the name, confirmation that she’d correctly assessed the situation—his namesake and the image of him.

She didn’t know what hurt most, that knowledge or her empathy for the injured child, but she couldn’t seem to move closer, couldn’t yield to the need she felt to sweep him into her arms and give him comfort, to see what she could do for his arm.

Because it was a dream, she realized, and she wasn’t actually with them.

If she had been, they would’ve been as aware of her as she was of them.

The injured boy stopped walking abruptly and sat down. “I do not like this place, Zavier! I do not want to wait for Mother and Father here. Can we not go back now? Why do we have to wait for them to come for us? We know the way. We can go back and surprise them with how clever we are!”

“Father said we were to wait until they came. They are trying something and he said it would be very difficult, even with everyone working together, and we would only be in the way. He will punish us if we disobey him!”

Legion stared at him unhappily for several moments and finally looked away. “I do not know how to fix this,” he muttered finally. “It hurts, Zavier!”

“I do not know why you did not tell me!” Zavier said irritably. “I will repair it. I know how.”

“No!”

“Do not be such a baby, Legion! I know how to do it. Let me see your arm.”

“You do not!”

“I do!”

“No, you do not. You only think because you are a little older that you can do things I can not!”

“I am older! And I can do things you can not!”

“Can not! You are only sextants older! I do not know why you think you know so much when you are barely older than me!”

They began wrestling, but the injured child was at a disadvantage because he was hurt, regardless of the fact that the two seemed identical in size and weight.

“Stop it!” she yelled, abruptly released from her frozen state by the distress of the injured child. “You’ll hurt him!”

Neither child seemed to hear her. They continued to wrestle for dominance and Anya found that she could not move any closer to them no matter how hard she tried. Zavier managed to pin Legion to the ground and grabbed his injured arm. Legion cried out at the pain.

Anya’s heart twisted in empathy. “Stop it! You’re hurting him!”

“Be still! It will only hurt a few half sextants more if you will be still and let me meld it back as it should be!”

Anya felt her breath catch in her throat as Zavier’s hands began to glow—not just his hands, but an aura around them, as if heat was emanating from them. Legion’s face was twisted with pain, but he didn’t cry out again, didn’t so much as whimper as his brother twisted his arm back in place, running his glowing hands the length Legion’s arm from shoulder to wrist. The pain eased from Legion’s face after a moment. He relaxed. Zavier wore an expression of satisfaction as he sat back on Legion’s belly. “There! It is repaired now and that did not hurt much, did it?” he said triumphantly. “I told you that I knew how to fix it! Father taught me many things while Mother was coddling you!”

Legion glared up at him. Lifting both hands, he made a shoving motion at Zavier. Though he never actually touched him, Zavier flew backwards off of him as if a giant, unseen hand had swatted him away. “Get off!”

Zavier picked himself up and glared at his brother. “Spoiled, ungrateful brat!” he snarled.

“You hurt me and you did it on purpose!” Legion yelled back at him. “Mother would not have made it hurt worse before it was better!”

“Well I am not Mother! Mother is not here! I should have let you hurt until she came for us! It would serve you right!”

“Next time I will repair it myself … if Mother is not here!” Legion said angrily, getting to his feet and stalking toward the liezarct.

“You did not know how!” Zavier pointed out, following him.

“I do! I just did not know that the beziartre could be used that way! I have never injured the body! See!” He held up his hand and it began to glow brighter and brighter just as his brother’s hand had until it was red with the heat radiating from it.

Zavier looked disconcerted and then angry. “You only learned it just now! If Mother had taught it to you then you would have known it could be used that way. I have never injured the body either. Father told me all the ways it could be used when he trained me. Mother would have done the same, I am sure, except that she babies you!”

Legion glared at him furiously. “She does not!”

“Does too!”

“Does not! You are just angry because she loves me best!”

“She does not! She only teaches you because you were not supposed to be here at all! I should have been the only one, then everyone would not stare at us and behave as if we are strange! It is always fathers who teach, never the mothers. It is not because she loves you best! She feels sorry for you because you are a niuta! She has to teach you because you were not supposed to exist at all!”

Legion jolted to his feet furiously. “I am not a niuta! I look just as you do! If I am a niuta, then you are also!”

“You are a niuta because you are only a copy of me!”

Legion lifted his hands and made the shoving motion again. Zavier flew backwards, perhaps ten feet, taking out the vegetation in his path. Rage suffused his features when he stood up again. Uttering a snarl of fury, he made the shoving motion at Legion. This time it was Legion who flew backwards, except further.

Screaming in anger, he got to his feet and lifted his hands. This time, however, blue-white energy arched between his palms. Forming it into a ball roughly the size of a basketball, he hurled it as his brother. Zavier warded it off—somehow—merely by waving an arm and the ball of energy cut a large swath through the vegetation, felling several massive trees and turning them to ash.

When he’d rotated his arm full circle, Anya saw that he’d formed a ball of energy like the one Legion had formed, except nearly twice the size. Horror filled her.

“Stop it! Stop fighting before you hurt one another!” she screamed at them, but again neither boy seemed to hear her. They continued tossing one another around and throwing balls of fire and energy at each other until they’d exhausted themselves and sank weakly to the ground—the scorched ground.

Appalled, Anya looked around at the destruction the children had wreaked in their anger with one another. They’d lain waste to a chunk of jungle nearly the size of a city block and they were little more than toddlers!

Legion sniffed. He didn’t cry, but his face was twisted with sorrow as he reached tiredly into the liezarct and withdrew a glowing ball. It took Anya a moment to realize that it wasn’t merely a ball of energy, but rather something like a hologram. She could clearly see the images of two adults within it, a man who looked much like the two youngsters—or, she supposed, they had the look of their father—like the man she knew as Legion. The woman was petite—next to him, at any rate—with long, dark hair.

She felt her heart contract painfully in her chest, realizing abruptly that she’d been right. The two boys were his children. Why had he shown her this, she wondered abruptly? Why hadn’t he just told her that he’d lost his family—somehow?

This was why he seemed so … unfeeling, she realized, as if he was only going through the motions of feeling when he was too numb to feel anything real. He hadn’t just lost his world. He’d lost his woman and his children!

“I want my mother,” the young image of Legion whispered forlornly.

“She is my mother, too!”

Legion glanced at him, but he seemed too tired to argue. “When do you think she will come for us? We have been here a very long time.”

Zavier looked at him sullenly. “They probably will not. Because of you, we are both niutaz! They probably only said that there was danger and sent us away because they were tired of being shunned because of us!

Anya sucked in a sharp breath of pained surprise at that, jerking awake.

She discovered to her consternation, however, that she hadn’t awakened into reality but into another dream. She was on the alien world again—Legion’s world.

She whirled around, searching for Legion. As he had before, she saw him striding toward her. She wanted to run to him, embrace him and tell him how sorry she was for his loss. There was something about the way he was looking at her, though, that held her back, that rooted her to the spot.

He was looking at her with patent sexual interest, but without any real recognition. There was almost a sense of … detachment in his gaze, despite the carnal interest, that added to her unease, and she realized that, for all that she’d accused him more than once of feeling superior, Legion had never looked at her in that way at all before.

He stopped when he reached her, when he’d crowded her personal space and stood nearly toe to toe so that she had to crane her neck back at an uncomfortable angle to look up at him. For a few moments, he merely studied her. He seemed almost … surprised. His gaze sharpened with far more interest than he’d shown before, though the patent sexual interest didn’t wane by any means. It seemed to grow more acute, as well. “What manner of being are you?”

Anya blinked at him in increasing uneasiness and distress, struggling with a sense of hurt that seemed way out of proportion to the situation. It had to be a dream. It couldn’t be a ‘visitation’. He knew her. How could he have forgotten all the things that had happened between them, forgotten her so completely? “This is so strange. You know me. You can’t have forgotten. This is a dream, right?”

He tilted his head curiously. Something flickered in his eyes, irritation, she thought. “Humor me.”

“I’m Anya—Dr. Anya Rambo. How could you not remember me?”

His brows drew together in a faint frown, but she had the impression that it wasn’t entirely irritation at the questions she’d asked instead of answering him. She thought part of it was annoyance with her for that, but not all of it. He seemed to be searching his mind for some elusive ‘something’ he couldn’t quite grasp. “You remind me ….”

He lifted his hands, settling them on her shoulders heavily for a moment before he skimmed them upward and cupped them on either side of her neck, curling his fingers around the base of her skull. She felt an odd, itchy sort of sensation ripple through her mind. A wave of weakness followed it, an ache, as if she had the beginnings of a headache coming on. It grew steadily stronger until she began to feel faint from the pain.

Zavier had taken advantage of the fact that his appearance would deceive her, calculatedly decided to use it to his advantage to approach her and yet he found that he was still surprised at her reaction. There was no sense of … fear in the way that he’d expected, no sense of awe, no sense of inferiority. She gazed back at him with hurt—which he understood the moment he captured the thoughts flickering through her mind—but as … an equal.

It was almost as stunning to discover as it was infuriating that such a creature had no humility for her position in the order of things.

Intrigued in spite of his anger, he delved deeper, sifting the memories she shared with Legion at first with derisive amusement and a touch of heady excitement, both at the arousing, carnal nature of the images and the fact that he had pilfered them from Legion without his awareness of it. That lasted no more than a fraction of a sextant as he mind-shared Legion’s reaction to her and felt his heated desire for the female threading his own psyche, felt the feverish need and the shattering culmination as Legion melded his psyche with hers.

It shook him. No stranger to the desires inherent in his nature, certainly no stranger to relieving it with any female within his path that tempted his carnal hunger, he was still stunned at the magnitude of the things he felt.

He felt his purpose waver, his anger lessen, felt an upsurge of curiosity, and delved deeper, ruthlessly seeking more with little regard, in the beginning, for the frailty of the woman. Her memories, her thoughts, her feelings were his to explore and he sifted through them, feeling almost a fever of impatience for more as he delved deeper and deeper until he had absorbed all there was to know about her.

Disappointment filled him when he had, not at what he’d found, but because he discovered he still hungered for more, had not sated his need. It had seemed to grow steadily the more he drank in of knowledge of her instead of finding appeasement.

Despite that, a sense of remorse began to grow in him as he slowly, reluctantly, withdrew and discovered the pain he’d caused her with his disregard for the delicate creature that she was. He soothed the hurt with an unaccustomed since of shame for having caused it at all.

There no malice in her, only warmth and it bathed him, clung to him, soothed him—completely disarmed him when he had dragged himself back and refocused his vision upon her form.

He knew abruptly why Legion had behaved like a such a fool, realized he was not a fool at all. He had found a treasure, a being beautiful beyond compare.

It was no wonder he coveted her.

He felt the same possessiveness fill him, and equal hunger to wrap himself in her and bask in the warmth he had found there, inside of her, an endless font of it to soothe the cold ache deep in his own soul.

A taste wasn’t enough, he realized in surprise, understanding finally and completely why he’d felt disappointment. He needed … her.

Anya saw a strange expression flicker across his features as he held her, his gaze wandering over her face. “Human,” he said finally, almost absently. “The physiology of the form is certainly much like ours—very much—if not entirely the same. I see now why ….” He stopped himself before he finished the thought, his gaze sharpening on her face. It was only then that she realized his gaze had taken on an unfocused look, as if he was merely staring at her face while his thoughts were focused inward.

Desire gleamed in his eyes as they focused on her again. He made no attempt to hide it. “You are a lovely little thing, Anya, a delightful surprise in every way.

Anya’s confusion and uneasiness deepened. Unhappiness joined it, though she wasn’t willing to examine that too closely. “You said that before—when we first met, not the part about me reminding you of someone, though. Do I? Remind you of her … your woman? You told me you’d never had a mate.” She tried to keep the note of accusation out of her voice, but with indifferent success. She could understand him not wanting to talk about painful memories, but it stung that he’d outright lied to her about having had a woman before that was significant in his life.

Mostly, she realized, because she’d been seduced into opening herself to him, opening herself to the hurt that was slowly winding its way through her now.

He looked surprised, briefly confused himself, as if he was reviewing what he’d said, and then amused. “You misunderstood the … vision I gave you. I am intrigued, though, that you viewed it that way. Jealousy is not characteristic of you ordinarily, but this is a good sign, is it not? No, I do not think it was that fleeting physical similarity that captured the attention …. Mayhap at first, mayhap it intrigued enough to prompt a closer look ….”

He smiled faintly, stroking his thumbs caressingly along her cheeks. “You have a beautifully complex and intriguing mind, Anya of Rambo, a lovely, animated face, and a form that any male would find desirable—certainly this one. You are unique in all the universe and infinitely appealing—entirely captivating to this poor soul. Do not allow that comment to distress you. It would distress me to think I had wounded when that was never my intention.”

Anya wasn’t certain whether she was more mesmerized and charmed by what he’d said or his mouth as it drifted slowly toward her own. She couldn’t seem to find the will to even attempt to evade his touch, though, regardless of the doubts he’d given rise to. Maybe she wanted it because of the doubts, needed the reassurance of his touch?

Her lips tingled in anticipation long before she felt his touch. Her heart raced. Her lungs labored with the effort to drag in and expel even a small amount of air and the lack of sufficient air made her head swim.

Perhaps because he’d given rise to confusion and doubts, or because he was acting himself as if he’d never met her before, she felt an odd sense of disorientation when he touched her, a strangeness she couldn’t entirely understand. She knew his touch, his essence as well, now, as she knew her own body … or almost as well, and yet for just an instant, she felt as if he’d never touched her before, as if it was a stranger who held her.

A tremor rippled through her as his mouth settled over hers and his heat and taste invaded her in welcome conquest, though. The feel of his mouth, the hunger in his touch, thrilled her as much as it ever had before, perhaps more. Her sex quaked in want even as her form collided and melded with his with the tightening of his strong arms around her. She might deny, still, the entanglement of her emotions with this man, but there was no denying the melody of desire he summoned from every fiber of her being with little more than a look.

Uttering a faint sound of capitulation, she savored the dance of his tongue along hers, joined him in the waltz that made her body sing with joyful excitement. He responded with a fervor that was almost as unnerving as it was thrilling. His kiss became demanding, hard, ruthless, his hold upon her tightening for many moments before he seemed to force himself to ease his grip and began to explore her with hands that shook with eagerness.

She was naked. She hadn’t realized it until she felt the unrestricted stroke of his bare palm along her bare skin, but there was no surprise, only gladness that she could feel his caresses without the impediment of clothing.

Without any sense of movement, she found herself lying supine upon a cushy, faintly prickling bed of vegetation, felt the welcome weight of his naked form along the length of hers. He wrenched his lips from hers, stared down at her for a moment, his face taut, his thoughts unfathomable. “My soul knows yours, minotez, knows you are the half I have hungered for without knowing what it was I searched for.”

She stared at him dizzily, confused—impatient. Amusement flickered in his eyes. “I am impatient, as well, minotez,” he murmured, dipping his head toward her and nudging her chin up with his face so that he could explore her throat with his lips as he had her mouth. He sucked at the pulse point of her throat and lifted his head to find her lips again, kissing her with a feverish need that snatched all sense of control from her.

She stroked him, pulled at him to urge him to penetrate her at once, feeling a wildness of need to match his. As if he was as impatient as she was, he directed her with the caress of his stroking hand, arranging her for his possession, positioning himself to enter her. She gasped when he pierced her flesh with the turgid length of his, arching to counter his thrust, her throat closing with anticipation at his desperate forays to claim her, panting for breath when he’d forged a ruthless path along her channel and sank deeply inside of her.

“Ah, minotez,” he gasped raggedly. “It could not feel better if I was inside of you in truth.”

A tremor traveled through him and into her at his words. She felt her body quicken, leaping toward completion. Almost the moment he began to move, she felt the first warning tremors of imminent release. She clutched at him tightly, frantically, meeting each feverish, shaking thrust as he strove to reach his own peak. He shuddered when she stiffened and then began to utter breathless cries as her climax broke over her, hesitating briefly before he began to move faster, drive deeper, carrying her pleasure before him until she was almost screaming with the force of the convulsions rippling through her and finally joining her as her body reached a surfeit and began a descent.

Thoroughly spent, they lay tangled together for many moments, merely enjoying the ability to breathe more deeply, the slowing of their hearts. Curled around her possessively, he nuzzled her face and throat appreciatively, murmuring words she realized were love words even though she didn’t understand any of them.

It was enough that she felt like that was what he was saying. It chased away some of the doubts that still lingered in her mind. She caressed him in return, with gratitude for the pleasure he’d given her.

She was still disturbed by the fact that he hadn’t seemed to know her, though, and after a little time those doubts resurfaced. “Why didn’t you know me?”

He lifted his head to study her and finally shifted his weight from her. Lifting a hand, he touched her cheek lightly. She could see that he was wrestling with something that bothered him. “I think I did,” he murmured almost ruefully. “I think that is what drew me here, although I believed it was something else entirely. There is a link of the minds that distance can not severe. I always feel that inescapable pull, no matter the distance. And it was far greater than ever before.”

She stared at him in confusion, wondering it if was just her sluggish, sated mind that made it impossible to follow or if he actually was speaking as cryptically as it seemed.

He grinned abruptly, dragging her close for a brief kiss. “I am being cryptic. Shall I show you my world, minotez? It hardly seems … just … that I know you as well as I know myself and you know so little of me.”

The offer distracted her. Pleasure wafted through her … and doubt. “You can do that?”

He chuckled. Rising to his feet, he seemed to brush at himself, but when he had, he was fully dressed. He reached down to her, pulling her to her feet and when she looked down at herself she saw that she was dressed, as well. She looked up at him in rueful amusement. “That’s hardly a miraculous feat when you’re in my head anyway,” she chided him.

He grinned at her. “I shall have to try harder to impress you, minotez!”

Releasing her hand, he lifted his arms. The countryside where they stood vanished and she found that they were standing in the streets of a city—an alien city. Bemused, she looked around at the towering buildings and the people strolling around the streets around them. In a sense, it might have been any city on earth—except that the architecture was unlike anything she’d ever seen before, and there was a strange peacefulness to it, an unhurried air about the citizens that was as completely alien to humans as their dress. They all wore robes as he did, light airy clothing that flowed around them as they walked.

Taking her hand, he guided her along the street while she craned her neck to take everything in, studying the people a while and then the buildings. There were markings here and there, on short pillars that edged the cross streets, above the doors of the buildings they passed, that seemed vaguely familiar to her. “It’s your language,” she said, a little surprised when she realized where she’d seen the markings before.

He glanced at her, lifted his brows questioningly a moment, and then grinned. “You thought it was someone else’s?” he asked teasingly.

She frowned. “It looked like several different languages. I don’t know why I thought that.”

“Clever, Anya. It is three.” He pointed to the sign above one door and then another and she saw the slight differences in the symbols. When they’d walked a short distance, he pointed to another.

“There are three languages spoken in the same city?” she asked in surprise.

“More than that, in truth. This is the … capitol city of Zaibetrophe,” he responded, obviously both amused and vaguely affronted at the comment. “Do they not speak many languages in your own cities?”

“Yes, but ….” Embarrassed, she felt her face redden. “I don’t know. I guess I thought ….”

He sent her a knowing look and she broke off. He was right. It was arrogant to think that her world was so completely unique that there couldn’t possibly be another world even similar.

They came at last to a structure that looked more like a palace than anything else—except there was no sign of guards. People strolled in and out of the front entrance completely unmolested.

It was the most breathtakingly beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She was awed by it even before they entered and the interior was even more beautiful, the intricate moldings and carvings gilded with some gleaming metal, the windows draped with some luxurious looking fabric, and thick carpets along the stone floor.

He guided her up a winding stair and into what appeared to be a private apartment.

She jolted to a halt when she saw the man and woman standing together near a window, their arms entwined. She recognized them instantly from the hologram the child in her other vision had held.

Legion pulled her close. “That is my parents,” he corrected her.

She looked up at him in surprise. “You look so much like your father!” she exclaimed, feeling a flicker of distrust as it occurred to her to wonder if he’d only said that to confuse her—as if she wasn’t already thoroughly bemused!

He frowned faintly and turned to study the man as if it hadn’t occurred to him before. “There is certainly a very strong resemblance,” he said finally.

He seemed to dismiss it in the next moment. A look of devilry entered his eyes. “Shall I show you my chambers?”

Anya couldn’t help but laugh. “I couldn’t begin to imagine what you have on your mind!” she said ruefully.

A slow grin curled his lips. His eyes danced with laughter, but there was a predatory gleam in them, as well. “Exactly as I thought,” he murmured. “You do not know me nearly well enough, yet, minotez, if you can not guess what is on my mind.”

Catching her hand, he strode swiftly down a short corridor and pushed open the door to a large, airy room. She had a brief impression of the trappings of a child’s room before she found herself tumbling onto the wide bed in the center of the room.

She looked up at him, charmed by his playfulness. He grinned back at her, but sobered almost at once, desire blazing in his eyes. “Already I am addicted to the taste of you, my Anya. I do not think I can get enough quickly enough to appease the burning need.”

She felt her throat close at his expression, felt a rush of heated desire fill her even as he leaned closer and covered her mouth in heated possession.

It flickered through her mind that she was as addicted to his touch, maybe more, than he was to hers. She hadn’t seen this almost ‘devil may care’ side of him before, but it was as appealing in its own way as his more serious side.

His taste and touch were so intoxicating it flickered through her mind to wonder if it was real or if he was using powers she couldn’t even imagine to intensify a natural attraction she already felt. She didn’t actually doubt that he would if he could, she realized. There was a ruthlessness about him that couldn’t be denied despite his charm.

The attempt to qualify her feelings was woefully brief, however. The feel of his hot mouth moving over hers, the essence of him that invaded her created a dizzying lassitude that made rational thought impossible.

She wanted this … him … whatever the consequences. Regardless of whether he was cheating by manipulating her in some way, he was devastating to her senses, infinitely desirable.

“Let … her … go … brother.”

Chapter Nine

A jolt went through Anya when the low, threatening growl of words penetrated her fogged mind. His hold loosened upon her—slowly, with obvious reluctance. Dizzy with the abruptness of his abandonment, it took an effort for Anya to pry her heavy eyelids up to look for him when she found herself suddenly alone on the bed.

Shock hit Anya in an almost physical wave. She stared at Legion blankly for several moments before she sat up and stared at the man who’d kissed her—Legion—her mind scrambling to comprehend.

His expression was taut as he met her gaze, but he wiped even that from his features, giving nothing of his thoughts away as he faced the new Legion who’d appeared. “Why does it not surprise me to discover that you have found more trouble, brother?” he drawled.

Legion slid a hard look at her. “Leave her out of this, Zavier,” he growled.

Anya’s heart jerked in her chest. She felt her eyes round as she swayed between disbelief, embarrassment, and abrupt certainty, realizing she’d misinterpreted the ‘dream’ she’d seen because she’d been too entangled in hurt and jealousy to think clearly. She felt, abruptly, like a complete fool—used, hurt, angry—more so than she’d felt before when she’d misunderstood what she’d been shown.

If she hadn’t been so certain the existence of the two boys was proof of Legion’s perfidy and jealous of the woman he had taken as his own she wouldn’t have leapt to the erroneous conclusion that the child had been named for his father. She would’ve realized it was Legion, himself, as a child.

Or maybe not. Maybe it wasn’t entirely from jealousy, she thought hopefully. He’d shown her his past before in a sense by showing her his world. The focus hadn’t been on him then, though, but rather the world he’d hailed from. Showing her his childhood had been completely unexpected.

It had thrown her, she told herself, into complete confusion. She had felt more than a little twinge of jealousy, but it hadn’t necessarily completely clouded her judgment.

She sent the man he’d called Zavier a reproachful look, wondering why he’d deceived her. Merely for his own amusement? Because he had wanted to hurt Legion and thought he could through her?

Because he wanted a sample of what Legion had been enjoying and knew it would be no contest to take what he wanted if he made her think he was Legion?

He shook his head slightly, his expression hardening. “You are right in that I wanted you, that I was willing to take advantage to feel your willingness, minotez, but you could not be more wrong about my reasons. I did not set out to deceive you—my appearance was enough to do that,” he muttered with disgust.

He studied her for a long moment and abruptly … changed. One moment he looked identical to Legion, the next his hair darkened to inky black and his skin tones—his skin—took on the look of titanium steel, gleaming as if it was metal. Physically, he was still identical in every way—the same strong, facial features, the same height, the same build, only his coloring had changed, but it was radical enough to make them look completely different from one another.

His lips twisted in derision at the look of horror on her face. “This does not please you, my minotez? You like the wrapping he prefers better? I am willfully deceiving you if I show myself as I truly am? But horrifying if I change to suit your need to tell us apart? Can I not please you, minotez, unless I am him?”

“She is not your anything, Zavier,” Legion ground out, surging toward Zavier suddenly and grasping his throat.

Zavier’s eyes narrowed but, beyond gripping Legion’s forearms, he made no apparent attempt to break his brother’s grip on his throat. “She does not know that you deceived her, as well, does she, Legion? You think I can not bend her to my will as you have?” he asked tauntingly.

Anya felt the abrupt pressure of a broad palm against her back, pushing her forward until she was on her hands and knees. An arm encircled her waist. A hand glided over her buttocks. “I would enjoy bending her to my will,” Zavier said huskily near her ear, slipping the hand he’d used to caress her buttocks into the cleft of her ass and following it until he found the mouth of her sex and delving inside of her. Her throat closed at the intimate touch. Her face heated at her body’s instant response.

She glanced sharply to one side as he withdrew his hand from its intimate appraisal and discovered it wasn’t her imagination. It was Zavier … now behind her on the bed. The moment that registered, she glanced again to where Legion and Zavier had been struggling and discovered Legion, alone now, glaring furiously at Zavier.

“I did not bend her to my will,” he growled angrily. “I coaxed. She came. It is the way of her people—to court the one chosen for a mate.”

Zavier laughed, but it wasn’t a sound of amusement. “I saw. She will come for me—ah—to me, as well. If she appreciates an imitation, she should find the original even more to her taste. Has, in point of fact. Shall I show you, brother?”

He slipped a hand over her belly and pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Instantly, a jolt traveled through Anya. Every nerve ending in her body exploded with sensation as if she’d spontaneously combusted. She sucked in a harsh breath as convulsions of rapture seized her. She trembled and jerked with the force of the spasms rocketing through her, sucking in sharp, gasping breaths when she was able to breathe at all.

Her muscles lost tone, her arms buckling beneath her weight as the tremors finally abated. She would’ve wilted face first onto the bed if Zavier hadn’t held her upright.

Dazed, completely confused, she lifted her head, opening her eyes with an effort to discover that Legion was studying Zavier through narrowed eyes blazing with fury. As if drawn by the movement, however, his gaze shifted to her. She felt the intensity of his gaze.

Heat wafted through her, sensation crawling along her flesh as if stinging ants were swarming her. A warning quake trembled along the corridor of her sex.

“Come for me, beloved,” he murmured in a husky voice.

Anya shuddered, gasping hoarsely as her body erupted abruptly in another climax. By the time the spasms had reached a crescendo, she was screaming. She sagged limply in Zavier’s arms in relief when the quakes finally ceased and she could catch her breath, still shivering with the faint aftershocks running through her.

Relief filled her for a handful of moments when she felt Zavier’s touch vanish as abruptly as he’d joined her on the bed. Still completely dazed, she wilted onto one hip and glanced around the room.

Zavier and Legion had faced off again, glaring at one another.

Zavier lifted one imperious hand and pointed his finger at her. She felt as if a bolt of lightning had passed through her. Her body convulsed, wracked with such intense pleasure that for several moments she couldn’t catch her breath at all. She thought she might have blacked out briefly. She struggled toward consciousness as she felt a hand beneath her chin, tipping her head up. Opening her eyes with an effort, she stared dazedly at the two men crouched by the edge of the bed, studying her.

“Do you think you can do better than that?” Zavier demanded mockingly.

“With my eyes closed!” Legion ground out.

Their taunting, or rather Zavier’s taunts and Legion’s arrogance, finally pierced Anya’s fogged mind sufficiently to give rise to a healthy dose of anger—either that or it was the fear that they would continue trying to out do each other by making her come harder—with less effort—until she expired. “If you two want to fight, leave me out of it!” she gasped drunkenly, slapping Zavier’s hand away and struggling to sit up. “You obviously don’t need me as an excuse!”

Zavier bent close and gnawed her ear, making gooseflesh erupt all over her. She shuddered as it set off more aftershocks inside of her. “I am convinced that you are worth fighting over, my sweet Anya. Do not worry yourself! I always win.”

Anya elbowed him, discovering with a touch surprise that even though his skin appeared metallic, it felt like flesh, warm, pliable—except that his muscles were as hard as Legion’s. Pain shot through her elbow, which made it hard to enjoy the gratifying grunt he made when she slammed the point of her elbow into his ribs.

Chuckling, he released her and straightened to face Legion. “Shall we, brother?”

“Not here,” Legion said grimly. “She is fragile. I will not risk harming her.”

Zavier’s face hardened. “I did not suggest that we would. I will shield our fragile little darling.”

“She is not ‘ours’, damn you! She is mine!”

Zavier grinned at him tauntingly, but she thought he was as angry with himself. “We are only two halves of a whole, though, are we not? If she is in truth the one—and we both know now that she is—then you have no more right to her than I have.”

“And as much,” Legion snarled. “More. I found her. She is mine.”

“I don’t belong to either of you!” Anya snapped, reviving sufficiently to feel real anger. “I don’t give a damn how wonderful you both think you are! I’m not a … pet you think you can just decide whether you want to take home or not!”

Both men surveyed her with almost identical expressions of speculation and resolve. “But you will,” they both said almost at the same time, and then turned to glare at one another.

Neither man seemed to move, and yet a wall of flames sprang up between then, rushing toward Legion. It stopped about a foot from him, wavered for a moment, and then rushed back toward Zavier. It vanished as it reached him as if it had never existed at all. Zavier lifted a hand. Instantly, a globe of writhing energy filled his palm. He hurled it at Legion, who threw up a hand to ward it off. It bounced off his palm and ricocheted directly toward her.

Anya screamed, or tried. It was the struggle to force sound from her frozen vocal chords that jolted her wide awake as if she’d suddenly fallen. She jerked all over as if she’d made impact with the bed. Struggling, she managed to suck in a pained breath as she opened her eyes. A flicker of relief went through her when she recognized her surroundings and realized she really was awake.

It was fleeting.

Legion, she discovered was striding toward the door of her quarters. Questions crowded her mind, so many she wasn’t certain what to ask.

“What happened?” she gasped finally, thoroughly confused now, wondering if everything she’d just thought she’d experienced had actually been a dream and nothing more.

He stopped and turned to look at her. The fury in his expression was very real and withered her hopefulness to dust.

“You said there were no others …?”

His lips tightened. “I thought he had been destroyed when ….” He shook his head. “It does not matter. He has followed me here.”

“What are you going to do?” Anya cried out when he turned to stalk purposefully toward the door again.

“Finish what I started long ago!”

“He’s your brother!” Anya gasped, scrambling from the bed to intercept him. He halted when she grasped his arm to stop him, turning to look down at her angrily. “I don’t understand any of this, but he’s your brother. You can’t really and truly want to hurt him!”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What is he to you?”

Anya released his arm at the accusation in his voice. A mixture of fear and anger warred within her. “You’re angry with me because I thought it was you! You might have warned me! If you’d given me any warning I would have known it wasn’t you. He’s nothing like you!”

His gaze grew tumultuous with fury and she realized instantly that she’d taken the wrong tact in trying to defend an indefensible position—in his mind at least. Worse, she’d confirmed Zavier’s taunts.

Resentment warred within her. She hadn’t fallen deliberately into Zavier’s deception, but she’d been well within her rights even if she’d known it wasn’t Legion. He was the one who’d claimed her. Just because it was so in his mind didn’t make it so.

She didn’t want either of them to be hurt because of her, though, regardless of her anger with both of them for using her in what seemed painfully obvious was their own private battle and had very little to do with her at all. “He’s your brother—more than just ‘a’ brother, your twin, a part of you. And, unless you lied to me, the only other of your kind. How could you set out to … destroy one another, whatever your differences?”

“You know nothing of the matter!” he growled furiously.

His anger notched her fear up a little higher. It would have if he’d only been a man. Considering what he was, what he was capable of, she felt faint that she’d even approached him to try to reason with him. Her fear seemed to tamp his anger, though, when an attempt to reason with him had failed. He made a sound of irritation.

“You have no reason to fear me, Anya. I would never harm you.”

She took a step back. “Unless I angered you.”

He followed her, grasping her arms and pulling her against his length almost roughly. “Not even then. I swear it on the soul of my mother. I would never hurt you, beloved.”

He believed it. Unfortunately, she didn’t. “If blood can’t bind you, then lust certainly can’t,” she whispered in a suffocated voice, and she didn’t delude herself into thinking he felt any more than that.

Frustration flickered in his eyes when he pulled away to look at her. “You do not believe that is all that this is?” he said angrily. “You have felt what I do, whether you will acknowledge it or not.”

He was right. She wasn’t about to acknowledge, to herself or to him, that the desire he made her feel was more than that … because she didn’t believe it was. She didn’t trust him enough to believe anything he made her feel—and certainly not Zavier—who claimed the same on even less acquaintance than Legion.

He shook his head at her in frustration. “The moment of knowing is never more than that. It takes no more than that to feel it and know the truth of it. You do not see it because you refuse to look, refuse to allow yourself to identify it as what it is, but that does not mean it is not there. I will not share only because of the accident of birth.”

Anya had felt herself wavering right up until then. “You don’t want to share anything with your brother simply because you resent his existence … just as he resents yours! Don’t use me as an excuse for something that has nothing to do with me!”

His expression tautened with frustration and anger.

“What does niuta mean?” she asked quietly.

He stiffened, setting her away from him. “Where did you …?” His lips tightened. Abruptly, he turned, striding away from her. “Freak,” he growled tautly.

She stared at his back as he disappeared—literally. When his image began to waver, she suspected her eyes, blinking them rapidly to try to adjust her vision, but he’d vanished completely within a single blink. Coldness washed over her. She couldn’t convince herself that he’d been any less angry when he left than he had been before.

The images she’d seen of them as children filled her mind. “My god!”

They couldn’t have been more than five or six then—at least, as far as she could tell, they’d appeared very much like a five year old human child.

What havoc might they wreak now in their sibling rivalry?

Chapter Ten

Galvanized by that horrific thought, Anya whirled to look around the room and finally dashed on wobbly legs to her locker to retrieve a suit. Unfortunately, unlike Legion, she had to manually clothe herself. She couldn’t just snap her fingers—or whatever—and have clothes appear on her. Worse, her agitation made her clumsy. Even though she hadn’t bothered to find under things to put on, it took what seemed an eternity to figure out how to get into the one piece suit and fasten it up. She didn’t bother with footwear, but dashed out of her quarters before she’d even finished fastening the closure.

The corridor outside was in an uproar, flooded with people running in every direction at once. The computer cut loose with an alarm almost in sync with her door opening and her heart clenched painfully in her chest.

“Please follow the corridor to the lifts to perform an orderly evac of the facility,” the computer intoned in a bored voice.

“What’s happening?” Anya called out in a voice hoarse with dread.

No one so much as glanced in her direction.

She grabbed the arm of a passing woman, pulling her to a halt. “What’s happening?”

“Attack! I don’t know! Explosions!”

“Oh god!” Anya exclaimed, releasing her grip on the woman as she jerked away and ran. Glancing up and down the corridor, she saw that each end was clogged with the people waiting for the cubicles to carry them down. Scanning her memory for the layout of the facility, she recalled the position of the stairwell and headed toward it. She saw the moment the door opened that the stairwell was as clogged with people as the corridor had been, all of them pushing and shoving and trying to race down the stairs when they were too tightly packed to manage more than a shuffle.

Without stopping to consider it, Anya plowed through, heading for the roof. A man grabbed her arm. “There’s no evac from the roof!”

She jerked her arm free and kept going, fighting against the tide of humanity until she finally reached the egress to the roof four flights up. The door wouldn’t open. She stared at it blankly for a moment before she realized it would have a manual override. The moment she managed to shove the door open by dint of sheer determination and fear, a pall of smoke greeted her. Coughing, waving her hand ineffectually in front of her face, she broke from the building and looked around.

The city surrounding her looked like a war zone—which it was.

For several moments, she couldn’t seem to move from the spot just beyond the door where she’d frozen in place, swiveling her head on her neck to view the destruction. The tops of a half a dozen buildings within her view were gone—proof positive that she’d lost her mind in heading to the roof instead of trying to reach the ground floor.

Instead of turning around and racing back down the stairs she’d just fought her way up, however, she forced herself to move toward the edge of the roof, wondering even as she did if she was too high up to have any hope of spotting either of the two men—beings. She realized, though, that, in the back of her mind, she’d convinced herself the view from the roof would allow her to see further, might give her a vantage where she had some hope of spotting them.

Her belly went weightless as she reached the low wall that edged the roof, but she steeled herself and looked down. Below her, the people racing along the streets looked like little more than ants. A nearly overwhelming sense of hopelessness flooded her.

However striking they might be, there was no way she could discern the pair from the throng of humanity below.

They weren’t on the ground, she discovered as she lifted her head.

She felt her jaw go slack. A wave of shock washed over her, chilling her to the bone. Both of them were flying—or levitating. They were airborne, in any case, hovering above the ground nearly on a level with her, slinging jagged bolts of lightning at one another and enormous, glowing balls of energy that made her skin prickle even at this distance. Each time either of them encountered a blast the other had flung, however, the auras they’d surrounded themselves with—invisible until that moment—glowed and diverted the force from them and into the tall buildings surrounding them—or the dome protecting the city.

She discovered to her horror when she looked up at it that it was cracked. Fractures zigzagged across the nearly indestructible material the dome had been constructed of.

Like a swarm of furious bees, police and military craft circled the pair, who seemed almost completely oblivious to the bombs and laser blasts cutting through the air around them.

And small wonder since not a single shot touched either one of them.

They found targets in the buildings surrounding them, however, blasting away chunks of concrete that rained down on the people below and Anya wasn’t certain if it was the combatants or the ‘protectors’ of the city who’d destroyed more.

Apparently tiring of slinging the force of their anger at one another, they ceased abruptly, almost simultaneously, and flew at one another. Landing amidst the crumbled remains of the top of a building about a quarter of a block from where she stood frozen in horror, Legion and Zavier collided bodily with one another. Seizing one another by the throat, they began trying to exert a superior physical strength, swaying first one way and then another. Finally, they broke free of each other and began slinging their balled fists at face, chest, or belly, rocking back at each blow and retaliating.

The crafts zoomed in on the two of them, firing down on the building where they struggled, cutting away even more debris. Anya sucked in a harsh, frightened breath as the floor beneath them gave way abruptly and the two men disappeared briefly beneath an avalanche of debris. Before she could even fully grasp the fact that they’d been buried beneath tons of steel and concrete, the rubble exploded outward and she could see Legion and Zavier, still completely focused on trying to pound each other into mud, on the floor below.

“Stop it!” she croaked. “For god’s sake! Stop before you destroy the city and kill everyone!”

To her stunned surprise, the two men did stop. Backing away from one another, they glanced around them and then both men turned and looked directly at her.

She knew it wasn’t merely her imagination.

Anger abruptly replaced the terror that had gripped her from the moment she’d discovered what they were doing. “Look at the mess you’ve made! The people you’ve hurt—probably killed, you lunatics! What the hell made you think you could … brawl with one another like this? Don’t you two ever think about anyone or anything but your damned selves?”

Whirling abruptly away from the wall, Anya stalked back across the roof to the access door and re-entered the building. The upper stairwell had cleared in the time she’d stood on the roof. A tangle of humanity was still struggling to flee far below her, but she had no trouble negotiating the stairs back to her own level.

She was shaking like a leaf in a strong wind by the time she’d returned to her quarters. Too shocked to untangle and sort the chaotic thoughts and emotions filling her, she stood in the center of the main room for a moment and finally moved to her bunk, dropping onto the mattress weakly.

She knew she was a complete fool, and that she should be ashamed of herself, but she realized she was far more concerned about the two idiots who’d wrecked half the city than she was about the strangers they might have hurt or even killed in their horrific battle. Shivering with sudden cold, she scooted further onto the bunk to brace her back against the wall. Drawing her knees up close to her body, she sat for a moment, trying to gather warmth and finally pulled her covers up around her shoulders.

She had no idea how long she sat staring at nothing in particular, waiting. She didn’t even have a clear idea of what she was waiting for until Legion appeared in her quarters as suddenly as he’d vanished. She stared at him, trying to ignore the gladness she felt that he seemed to be alright.

Her belly tightened when Zavier stepped through the wall on the opposite side of the room, but aside from exchanging a hard look, they seemed more focused on her than each other.

She pushed the covers away. “You get right back out there right now,” she growled, “and clean up the mess you made! And help those people you hurt, damn you!”

Both men looked at her in surprise and then exchanged a look with one another.

“We have done that,” Legion said a little sheepishly.

Surprised but vaguely mollified, Anya studied him suspiciously for a moment and finally turned to study Zavier. “You fixed everything? Helped everyone that was hurt?” she demanded.

Amusement gleamed in Zavier’s eyes. “We did.”

Anya let out a shaky breath of relief and turned to look at Legion again just in time to see him waver where he stood. He dropped abruptly to his knees and fell face first on the floor hard enough to rattle everything in the room. Sucking in a sharp breath, Anya bounded from the bed and raced to him, struggling to push him over onto his side.

When she saw she couldn’t, she turned to look at Zavier. “Help me!”

He shook his head, wavered, and finally moved toward the two of them. Dropping heavily to his knees, he grasped Legion’s shoulder and shoved at him, collapsing on top of him even as Legion rolled over.

Anya stared blankly at the tangled heap of giants for several moments, but there was no escaping the fact that both of them were unconscious. Disjointed thoughts flickered through her mind, but it was instinct that made her shove to her feet and race to blockade her door with every piece of furniture she could push in front of it.

Neither man had so much as twitched by the time she’d finished and turned to survey them. Zavier had to be crushing Legion, however. Moving away from her barricade, she surveyed them a moment and finally got onto her knees and began shoving at Zavier until he rolled off of his brother. She was sweating profusely from effort by the time she’d managed it and so winded she felt like she would pass out herself.

They were both battered and bleeding—from pounding at each other with their fists, she was sure—she thought. When she’d managed to catch her breath and gather a little strength into her weak muscles, she struggled to her feet and went into the bathroom for a washcloth. Wetting it with cold water, she wrung out the excess and returned to the main room, hoping she would find them both coming around. Consternation filled her when she saw they were both still completely unconscious.

As little as she understood them, she realized they’d expended too much energy in battling one another—possibly also in repairing the destruction they’d wreaked and helping the people they’d injured. Surely, even as powerful as they both appeared to be there were limits to what they could do just as humans had limits?

Hoping the cool cloth would revive them, she bathed Legion’s face carefully, rinsed the cloth, and then moved to Zavier. They were breathing, but shallowly. She didn’t even know if that was a good sign, but she thought it might be.

Zavier’s eyes flickered open when she drew his head into her lap to carefully clean his battered face. He stared at her without recognition or even comprehension. She stroked his face soothingly. “What have you two done to yourselves, you crazy men?”

Zavier’s lips hitched upward at one corner. “Told you I always win,” he said in a slurred, drunken voice.

Anger surged through her. “What did you win, you fool!”

A mixture of anger and amusement flickered in his eyes. “Take care, little human! I will not be too weak, for long, to pull you across my lap and paddle that sweet little ass of yours!”

The comment unnerved her. His arrogance angered her, and yet, irritatingly, the leap in her pulse wasn’t altogether from either, she knew. “If you ask me,” she said tartly, “it’s you and brother who are sadly in need of discipline!”

She was sorry almost the moment she said it. She knew it was true and at the same time she also realized why they were so undisciplined. They’d reared themselves. It was no wonder they’d yielded to the instincts of the uncivilized when they’d had no parents to guide them, to teach them that they couldn’t simply unleash their anger on one another any time the mood struck them—especially around beings that couldn’t protect themselves from their wrath.

And she knew they hadn’t.

Legion had told her his world had been destroyed. He just hadn’t told her he was nothing but a baby when it had happened.

“Save your pity for lesser beings!” Zavier growled, rolling away from her.

Anya felt like slapping him with the wet cloth. Instead, after glaring at him a moment, she moved to Legion. He’d come around, as well, she discovered, and it was obvious from his expression that he’d been alert enough to hear at least a part of the conversation. The look he gave her halted her in her tracks.

She stared at him uneasily for a moment and finally surged decisively to her feet. Throwing the cloth down, she moved to her locker, grabbed a tote, and began stuffing her clothing inside. “Fine! Suit yourselves! This ‘lesser being’ is leaving! I’m glad to see at least you two aren’t much the worse for your … childish and completely irresponsible behavior! Hopefully, you’ll be recovered enough to defend yourselves when they come to get you. And they will. You two should seriously consider finding a new home—no doubt this is what has kept the two of you on the move! You aren’t going to find any place where you’re welcome if you’ve got no more consideration for ‘lesser beings’ than to wreak destruction where ever you go!”

“We repaired the damage!” Legion growled defensively.

Anya whirled on him. “And you think that makes it all better? Well, it doesn’t! Maybe you like frightening ‘lesser beings’! Or maybe we’re just too damned insignificant to cross your mind? But you two just terrorized the entire city and we humans only have one answer for that—destroy the threat by whatever means necessary! The military will be perfectly willing to reduce the city to a pile of rubble trying to destroy you two! And if, by chance, you survive, they’ll try harder to get you the next time!”

She didn’t realize tears were streaming down her cheeks until she turned to face them and discovered she couldn’t bring their faces into focus. Scrubbing at her eyes, she stalked across the room and began pushing the furniture away from the door.

“Why did you do that?” Zavier asked curiously.

Anya laughed a little wildly. “To protect you two idiots—because I’m an idiot!” She turned to look at them when she’d cleared the door, shaking her head. “I am so disappointed in both of you. You are both—so amazing in so many ways, but when it comes right down to it, you’re just as … mean spirited and jealous of one another as any human ever dared to be! You aren’t better than us! You’re just different … stronger, and more capable of destroying things than the men on this planet!”

Both men struggled to rise and Anya’s heart leapt into her throat as it occurred to her that they’d been gathering strength the entire time she’d been venting. Whirling, she opened the door and fled before they could gather enough strength to get up and pursue her.

It was hell getting out of the city. Every artery was clogged with fleeing people, despite the fact that Anya saw Legion and Zavier had done as they’d told her and repaired the damage. At any other time, that fact might have amazed her, but it only made her feel sicker, because she knew it didn’t matter to the government that they’d undone what they’d done. To them it was only another show of power that was frightening.

Fortunately, although the military was in evidence everywhere, they seemed more focused on trying to keep order than in preventing anyone from leaving, or searching for her.

She’d feared they would be.

Relieved when they let her through, she followed the traffic for a while, trying to decide where to go. In the end, she didn’t actually make a decision. She simply headed home like a homing pigeon.

It was fall, Anya discovered when her mind had finally cleared enough for thoughts other than Legion or his brother Zavier. Cooped up in the city since her return, she hadn’t realized it, but once she became aware, it lifted her spirits to see the countryside decked in the brilliant colors of fall.

It seemed to her that the air was cleaner than the last time she’d visited the old home place. She wondered if it was purely her imagination or if the government’s efforts to clean the air were actually working.

They’d at least succeeded in clearing the most deadly toxins from the air, re-opening the countryside to habitation the year before she’d left.

She hadn’t been back, though, hadn’t felt up to returning to the family farm where her parents and two of her brothers had died in the last global war ten years earlier. Ten years had softened the pain of loss but certainly not eradicated it. She didn’t know why she wanted to go now.

She realized when she parked her car in the old barn, though, why she’d felt the need to go home. Despite her grief, this was the place where she’d once been happy and carefree—the only place and time. It was a balm to her soul now, even with the shadows that lingered.

The house was musty from being closed up so long and she thought, although it might have been purely imagination, that she could smell the faint chemical odor of the agent they’d used to eradicate the viral bomb that had killed every living thing ten years earlier, her family included.

Opening all the doors and windows to air it, she left the house and wandered across the pasture where animals had grazed when she’d been a child. Settling beneath a tree, she gazed up at the clouds, searching the sky hopefully for living things. Pleasure filled her when her search didn’t go in vain. After nearly an hour, she spotted a pair of birds in the distance.

She’d heard they were genetically re-engineering wildlife, but she hadn’t actually expected to see any.

Leaning back in the grass, she folded her arms beneath her head and squinted at the spiraling pair for a while before the warmth of the day and the recession of high emotion worked together to lull her and she drifted to sleep.

She wasn’t certain what roused her, but something caused her to surface toward consciousness some time later and she opened her eyes. The sun had settled at the horizon, she saw, an indication that she’d slept for several hours. Closing her eyes again, she stretched and finally sat up.

Legion and his brother, Zavier, were seated beneath the tree little more than a yard from where she lay, studying her.

Her heart stuttered in her chest painfully. “Am I dreaming?” she asked in a whisper.

Legion frowned, looked uncomfortable. “We are not in your mind, Anya.”

Anya swallowed convulsively. “How did you find me? Why did you find me?”

“You are still angry,” Zavier observed unnecessarily.

Anya glanced at him when he spoke, searching her mind. She shook her head finally, tiredly. “Not angry.”

“Disappointed,” Legion supplied.

She felt her throat close with emotion. Dragging in a shuddering breath, she looked away. “I thought you were the most perfectly wonderful being ….”

She flinched reflexively when she felt his arms embracing her despite the fact that she knew he moved through time and space as if it didn’t exist for him—and maybe it didn’t. Her surprise didn’t prevent her from melting against him, however. Without any conscious decision, she did, feeling warmth invade her.

“I am everything that you believed that I was,” he said earnestly.

Anya tipped her head up to look at him doubtfully, struggling with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

He blushed. “I will not … I will try not to fight with my brother again if it distresses you.”

“Distresses …?” Anya gasped, torn between amusement and outrage at the understatement of the century, but completely disarmed and thoroughly charmed by his blush. “Legion …!”

He silenced her by covering her mouth with his own. She struggled, briefly, against the intoxicating essence of him that filled her, but she knew it was useless even as she tried. She was already addicted to the feel and taste of him. It took no more than his nearness to stir warmth to life inside of her, a look, the gleam of desire in his eyes. His lightest touch summoned the heady heat of need.

She shouldn’t want his touch, his kisses. She should be terrified of him.

She wasn’t and no amount of trying to reason with herself could summon the instinct for self-preservation.

She was as limp and malleable as molten metal when he lifted his lips from hers at last. A vague sense of disappointment flickered through her when he did. Trying to gather her wits, she lifted her eyelids to gaze up at him.

A jolt went through her when she found herself looking up at both Zavier and Legion. Her lips parted in surprise. Without hesitation, Zavier swooped down to take instant advantage. She sucked in a sharp breath as his mouth opened over hers, fastened greedily to hers, fragmenting her thoughts and sending them spiraling in a million directions as he thrust his tongue into her mouth and explored her with a feverish hunger that skated the edge of roughness. Her belly clenched almost painfully at the rush of heated blood through her veins.

She was drunk with desire, totally disoriented when he broke the kiss at last.

“I will have her first. I can not wait,” Zavier said in a husky growl.

“We agreed to share,” Legion snarled back.

The anger in both their voices was enough to aid Anya in prying her eyelids up. “Share?” she croaked, thoroughly bewildered but feeling the beginnings of panic.

“I have not joined with her body,” Zavier pointed out tightly. “My need is greater than yours.”

Legion sent him a hard look, but he said nothing else, easing away and watching while Zavier stripped her with hands that shook with eagerness. Despite her confusion and dawning alarm, Anya felt her body responding to his urgency. She sucked in a sharp breath when he tired of tugging at her clothing and ‘waved’ the suit away instead, diving at her the moment it vanished and scoring her flesh with each brush of his mouth and tongue over her throat and breasts and belly, almost more as if he meant to devour her than caress her. Within moments, she felt as if she was on fire, discovered she couldn’t hold still no matter how badly she wanted to savor his touch, to be still so that he missed nothing in his quest to explore her thoroughly.

She clutched at his head, arching against him as he made his way at last to one breast and tugged at the almost painfully engorged tip. Darkness descended over her mind, but she wasn’t certain if it was from the nearly painful jolt of excitement that went through her or if it was from her mostly ineffectual efforts to drag in a decent breath of air. “Zavier!” she gasped shakily, uncertain herself if the distress in her voice arose from the fact that she could hardly bear the exquisite sensations tearing through her or if it was praise and a plea for more.

He released the nipple he’d been tormenting and surged upward to cover her mouth. “Anya,” he rasped even as his lips closed over hers, in acknowledgement of her, or approval, or demand.

She had no idea which, but as he sucked hungrily at her mouth and tongue, stroking his hands feverishly over her breasts and across her belly until he found her sex, her mind found direction, focus, desperation. She moaned into his mouth as he parted the sensitive folds with one thick finger and found her opening, pressing inside of her.

“Minotez,” he gasped hoarsely as he tore his mouth from hers and gnawed a path with his lips and the edge of his teeth along her cheek to her throat. “You taste so sweet. You are so soft. I can not decide if I most want to eat you, minotez, or climb inside of you.”

Anya felt her heart slam almost painfully against her chest wall at his words, arching instinctively against his hand as he plunged his finger more deeply inside of her. A shudder went through him. He withdrew his finger completely, wedged his hips between her thighs and guided his erection to her opening, pressing into her. She gasped, lifting eagerly to meet his thrusts, moaning in ecstasy as she felt his flesh piercing her, impaling her deliciously on his shaft.

He levered his torso upward, supporting his weight on his locked arms and staring down at her as he at last achieved the deep connection she so desperately wanted and began to pump his hips to glide his cock rhythmically along her channel. She clung to him, rose and fell in counter, relishing each thrust that lifted her higher toward the pinnacle of pleasure, wound the tension tighter inside of her.

A choked cry escaped her as the dam of passion broke over her suddenly, blindingly. Convulsions of ecstasy rocked her, escalating as he abruptly increased the depth and swiftness of his penetration to find his own release. Finally spent, his arms began to quiver with the strain of holding himself upright and he collapsed weakly against her, burrowing his face against her neck. “I thought that it could feel better when I joined my spirit with yours, but that was … unlike anything I have ever experienced,” he mumbled against her neck.

“Mmm,” Anya managed in agreement, too weak to handle anything more complicated—like actual speech.

“I would like to do that again, but I am strangely weak and my man thing has gone limp.”

Anya snickered, more at his tone of outraged disbelief than the comment itself.

He lifted his head to study her with a mixture of suspicion and amusement.

Legion’s hand settled on his shoulder and gave him a shove that rolled him off of her and onto the grass. She caught the glare he sent in Legion’s direction, but Legion was oblivious to the threat in his brother’s eyes and, within a matter of moments, he’d completely redirected her mind, as well.

Still ultra sensitive from Zavier’s caresses, Anya flinched and tensed when Legion began stroking her to coax her passion once more, but her sensitivity and his determination worked against her. Within a few moments she was as desperate with renewed need as she had been from Zavier’s attentions. Writhing feverishly beneath the touch of Legion’s lips as he thoroughly reacquainted himself with her body, she began to beg him to enter her and appease the ache.

He pulled away instead, leaving her in frustrated confusion for a moment until he pulled her upright and dragged her astride his lap. Aligning his body with hers, he watched her face as she sank slowly upon his shaft until he was so deeply inside of her that he felt like a part of her. She opened her eyes with an effort when he merely held her. His face was taut with need. Holding her gaze, he tightened his grip on her hips and ground more deeply inside of her.

And somehow she knew what he needed. Lifting one hand from his shoulder, she stroked his cheek. “Legion,” she whispered, lifting her lips to brush them across his hard mouth.

“Beloved,” he responded raggedly, spearing his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck and cupping her head as he opened his mouth over hers.

She curled arms around him, kissing him back, rocking slightly in his lap to feel him within her. He tore his lips from hers after a moment. Sucking in a harsh breath and lifting her upward, he hunched his back to bring her breasts within reach, teasing first one and then other with his mouth and tongue until the bubble of rapture he’d built inside of her ruptured, dragging a hoarse groan from her.

Tightening his arms around her, he jogged her up and down along his shaft until she was nearly screaming with the hard convulsions of pleasure wracking her. Even as they began to subside at last, he tipped her onto her back, realigned his body with hers and began to stroke her passage rhythmically until he had pushed her upward to yet another peak.

She was almost as surprised as she was enthralled as her body peaked again. She clutched at Legion frantically to ground herself, feeling as if she was flying apart. That time she did scream at the hard convulsions of pleasure, gasping for breath, barely conscious when Legion uttered a choked cry to join hers and his hot seed jetted into her channel.

When Anya swam upwards toward conscious again, she discovered that she was sandwiched between them. Someone was nibbling along her shoulder and another someone was suckling her breast.

She swatted weakly at both of them.

Chapter Eleven

Either Anya missed both of them, or they were too intent on their explorations to notice anything shy of a cannon blast. She made a sound of complaint in her throat, which also went unnoticed, and gave up trying to fight them off.

Despite the fact that she’d just had three climaxes in a row when she’d rarely even experienced one in the course of intercourse, her body responded readily to their touch, eagerly. Heat spiraled inside of her again. The tension climbed until she thought their nibbling kisses alone would make her come again.

She didn’t get the chance to find out.

Legion dragged one of her legs across his hip and pushed inside of her, stroking her slowly.

Zavier, after stroking her rectum, entered her from behind.

Expecting pain the moment she felt the pressure, surprise flickered through her when she felt no more than a slight twinge of discomfort that was almost immediately supplanted by pleasure.

It flickered through her mind, briefly, that he’d, somehow, done something to prevent the pain she should have felt at being penetrated by a cock the size of his, but desire arced inside of her like lightning as the two began to move rhythmically, thrusting in and out of her in tandem, driving deeper and harder with each thrust until she could barely catch her breath for the glorious pleasure pounding through her.

She came, gasping at the force of the convulsions and then was swept upward again, rocked over and over by spasms of ecstasy until she lost count of how many times she came, began to think her heart and lungs would give out before they did.

She felt more relief than anything else when they abruptly stiffened, almost in the same moment, and bathed her inside with the hot fountain of their seed.

She passed beyond conscious before they’d even stopped shuddering with their own releases.

She wasn’t certain how long she was out, but it was either dark when she roused again, or she’d gone blind.

She hadn’t lost sensation. She felt their hands stroking her.

“I swear to god I’ll cut both of those things off if you try to stick them in me again!” she growled, fighting them off and pushing herself upright with an effort.

Moonlight limned them when she turned to glare at them after she’d finally managed to get to her feet. She plunked her hands on her hips at their continued silence. “I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it. I did. Now I’m going to enjoy sleeping.”

Her legs felt like they didn’t belong to her when she found her bearings and headed across the pasture toward the house. She hadn’t gotten far when someone—Legion she thought—came up behind her and swept her off her feet. She sucked in a quick breath of surprise and then found herself inside the house.

Disoriented, she gazed around the darkened room in confusion and finally wiggled until he set her on her feet. Thoroughly awake after the unexpected transport from pasture to house, Anya decided that a bath should definitely be the first order of business after rolling around in the pasture and headed toward the bathroom, flicking on the living room light as she left. She’d dropped her tote just inside the door of her childhood bedroom and stopped there to collect clean clothes on the way.

Zavier was in the bathroom when she arrived, surveying the fixtures with a mixture of curiosity and contempt. She gave him an irritated look. “It’s old fashioned,” she said defensively. “The house was built at least fifty years ago … maybe more.”

Reaching into the shower, she turned the water on, and then turned and placed her palms on Zavier’s chest and pushed him toward the door. When she’d closed the door in his face, she headed back to check the water temperature. The water, solar heated, was scalding and she took a few moments to adjust the flow of cold to balance it at a comfortable temperature before she stepped inside.

She’d just put her head under the shower spray when she felt two hands settle at her waist. She jumped, nearly strangling on the water, spluttering and coughing as she jerked her head from beneath the spray and swiped a hand over her face.

Legion was standing behind her, she discovered with a good bit of irritation. “Do you mind?” she snapped.

“I do not.” He frowned. “Mind what?”

“I’m bathing!”

“Yes. This seems … primitive. The facilities on the space platform were different.”

“Because water was an issue,” Anya pointed out. “We mostly used particle cleansers—effective but not actually fun. I enjoy bathing with water when I get the chance.”

Legion lifted her bodily, set her behind him, and ducked beneath the spray.

Anya glared at him.

He glared at the shower head. “It is not high enough.”

“It’s high enough for me and it’s my shower!”

He tilted his head, studying her. “You are angry?”

Anya rolled her eyes. Uttering a huff of annoyance, she turned and grabbed the soap, resisting the urge to inform him that she actually preferred bathing alone—which was why she’d shown Zavier the door.

“You are still angry about the disagreement with my brother?”

Disagreement? “It’s not something I’m going to get over any time soon,” she said, flicking a pointed look at him.

He took the soap from her, sniffed it and, apparently deciding he liked it, began to smear it around on his chest. Shaking her head at him, she took the soap, rubbed it on her wash cloth until it was well soaped and began to scrub his chest. Despite her irritation with him, it was impossible to ignore the beauty of his physique, but she did try, focusing on washing his torso and then his arms, hands, and shoulders.

“We repaired all that was damaged.”

She flicked a quick look at his face. “Sometimes that isn’t enough.”

He frowned. “If it is as it was, why is that not sufficient?”

She paused, looking up at him. “They’ll remember the pain and fear even after it’s gone—long after it’s gone.”

She pulled at his arm until he obeyed her unspoken command and turned to face the water. Pushing his long hair over his shoulders, she began to scrub his back. “Zavier showed me … I guess it was a memory from when the two of you were little.”

He twisted his head to look back at her over his shoulder. “When I was little? Young?”

“A small child. You looked to be around five years old.”

He seemed to scan his memories. “This means nothing to me. We do not measure age as you do.”

She thought he was evading and briefly debated whether to pursue it or not. “You’d broken your arm.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He looked away, lifting his hands to the water and turning them, watching as the water pelted the soap from them.

“You don’t remember?”

He was silent for several moments. “I recall everything from the moment I first became aware of life.”

Anya frowned that time, curious at the way he’d phrased the comment. “From when you were very young, you mean? Everything?”

“From first awareness in my mother’s womb.”

Anya stopped, staring at his back. “You couldn’t possibly ….”

“I am not the same as you, Anya.”

She began scrubbing his back again, kneading his shoulders and then lower until she reached his buttocks. “You feel the same,” she said finally.

He turned to face her. Taking the cloth from her, he rinsed it and scrubbed the soap over it as she had. “But you know I am not,” he said, bathing her as she’d bathed him.

She scanned his face. “But you were hurt, and you were afraid … and you missed your mother.”

He nodded. “Just as you were when you were very young and fell from the tree that you had climbed.”

Anya stared at him in surprise, feeling her stomach twist a little sickeningly. “You took that from my memory!” she said accusingly.

He flicked a gaze at her and looked away. “I explored your mind as I have explored your body. Every morsel of you intrigues me.”

Anya swallowed with an effort. “That wasn’t right! They’re mine! My memories. It should be my decision whether to share them or not!”

His lips tightened. “You see. You smell. You taste. You feel. You hear. Your senses test your surroundings and tell you about them. Mine do also.”

“It’s not the same!”

“Because we are not the same!”

“But … this wasn’t an involuntary thing! You chose to look into my memories!”

“Just as you choose to look, or not to look,” he said implacably. “I wanted to see. I looked.”

She still felt ill-used. He shouldn’t have looked just because he could. It wasn’t … polite, any more than it was polite to stare at someone. “Then show me your memories!”

He lifted a hand to caress her cheek. “You do not want to see them, beloved.”

“How do you know?” she demanded angrily.

He touched a finger to her temple. “Because there is no ugliness here … sorrow, yes, but far more happiness than sadness and no terrible things to give you nightmares. I will not put them there.”

She shook her head at him. “You don’t think what happened in the city was terrible? I have that in my memory. I’m sure I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”

He studied her thoughtfully. “Which part frightened you?”

Anya blinked at him in disbelief. “All of it!”

He caught her shoulders and turned her so that he could wash her back. “Your people are also violent. I have seen this in the minds of the others. This ... Captain Laine,” he said derisively, “was most fond of brawling.”

Anya pursed her lips. “I don’t doubt it, but then I’ve never had a high opinion of him. Anyway, what you and Zavier were doing was a little more than ‘brawling’.”

“It is a part of who and what we are. We think no more of using it than you would think of using your hands.”

Anya made a sound of irritation. “But that’s just the point! We can’t do those things so it’s frightening to see it! Besides, mature adults are supposed to work things out in a reasonable manner—not with violence.”

“You do not have disagreements with your sister?”

“You know I do,” she said irritably, turning to face him, “if you’ve seen my memories. We’ve never really gotten along well, but we don’t fight—physically—even when we disagree on things.”

“You avoid contact with her.”

“Sometimes that’s better than being around her and arguing. At least when we’re not together we can enjoy talking to one another occasionally.”

Taking the cloth from him she finished bathing her lower body, handed the cloth back to him, and got out of the shower. “If you’d stayed on your own world, you wouldn’t have been allowed to do those things, would you?”

“If we had stayed on our world we would have perished with everyone else.”

Anya sent him a sharp look. “How do you know they perished? You were sent away.”

“I know,” he said grimly.

“But how do you know?”

He slid a hard look at her. “Because my mother would not have left us to spend our childhood on that vile world if she had survived. And because we searched for them when we had achieved the skills to do so,” he said with controlled violence.

Anya felt her throat close with empathy. “Your world was … just gone?”

He looked away, twisting the knobs on the shower until the water ceased to flow. “The entire solar system was gone … sucked into a black hole.”

He took the towel she offered him without looking at her. “They believed they could prevent it. Collectively, they believed they had the power to move the world beyond danger. My parents were considered traitors for sending us a way … even though they stayed and perished with all the others.”

* * * *

Neither Zavier nor Legion was particularly pleased when they discovered she expected them to sleep in her brothers’ room. They informed her that they had no real need to sleep. They had gathered sufficient energy to sustain them. After informing them that she not only required sleep, regularly, but that she was particularly tired from their romp in the pasture, she left them to entertain themselves, or sleep, and went to her old room.

She needed sustenance herself, if it came to that, not just sleep, but decided she was too weary to feel up to going back into the little town nearby to buy food and she, unfortunately, had been too distressed on the trip to the farm to consider stopping for supplies along the way.

Despite the unfamiliarity of sleeping in a room that hadn’t been hers since she was a child, she was exhausted enough to drop to sleep without any trouble whatsoever. Staying asleep was a little more difficult.

She woke to find herself sandwiched between Zavier and Legion. Too tired to protest, she decided she could wait until the morning to vent her displeasure and rolled over and went to sleep again.

It nagged at the back of her mind that something about the sleeping arrangements, beyond the fact that she had unexpected bed partners, wasn’t quite right, but she was in no condition to examine it.

They were gone when she woke the following morning. She lay puzzling over it for a time and finally decided that she must have dreamed they’d joined her. The bed was far too narrow to accommodate three, particularly when two of them were big enough they would’ve overflowed the small bed if they hadn’t shared it with anyone else.

Unless they’d been levitating?

When she’d finished her morning ritual and dressed, she went in search of them, half hoping, half fearing, they’d gone and finally spied them in the distance beneath the tree where the three of them had explored the limits of her endurance the day before, standing almost nose to nose and bristling at one another like two cur dogs.

Plunking her hands on her hips, she studied them for several moments and finally went back inside, slamming the back door loudly. She should’ve known, she told herself, that peace wouldn’t reign for long between the two, regardless of Legion’s promise!

Finding her purse, she strode out the front door and got into her car. They ‘appeared’ in the seat behind her before she’d warmed the engine, nearly giving her heart failure.

“I don’t know how you do that, but I do wish you’d stop it!” she said irritably, turning in her seat to look back at them when she’d managed to get her heart rate more or less under control. “I’m going into town for food—which I need even if you don’t. Wouldn’t you rather stay here? I mean, it’s bound to be boring,” she finished hopefully.

“We can not learn the customs of your world if we do not observe,” Legion pointed out coolly.

Anya stared at him for a long moment and finally straightened in her seat instead of asking him why he thought there was any point in learning the customs. They couldn’t stay on Earth, not after what had happened in the city. Obviously, this wasn’t something they’d come to accept, however.

With the reflection that they were at least out of harm’s way and everyone else was out of their harm’s way, she throttled up, lifted to hover just above the road way and headed into town. It hadn’t been much more than a village in her youth and, if anything, it was smaller now. There had been no survivors at ground zero, of course. She and her sister and youngest brother were only alive because they’d been away at school in the city when the war broke out, but the countryside had been reopened to habitation two years before. It seemed to her that more people would have taken advantage and returned to area.

There was a government supply store, however, which was all that really mattered at the moment. In fact, the more she thought about it, the better that there weren’t many people around. Legion wasn’t going to ‘blend in’ with the natives terribly well, despite the fact that he’d adopted ‘native’ dress. He was just too exceptional to manage to go unnoticed.

Zavier was even less likely to go unnoticed.

Wryly, she admitted that, even if he hadn’t somehow changed his skin tones to something that more nearly resembled metal than skin, he wouldn’t have avoided notice, because then he would’ve looked identical to Legion.

She parked her car on the outskirts of town and resolutely turned to face them. “I’ve been thinking and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go in with me. It would be better if you’d stay here.”

Zavier studied her thoughtfully. “We have given our word that we will not endanger the beings here.”

Anya wrestled with diplomacy versus bluntness and finally gave up on the possibility of handling the situation with tact. “The government will have issued an alert. I’m sure, even as remote as this area is, they will have heard, and they’ll recognize both of you immediately. The ‘beings’ will be endangered, because they’ll notify the authorities and the authorities will swoop down upon us all with the intention of annihilating you two.”

Legion and Zavier exchanged a look and almost seemed to shrug.

Relieved, she got out of the car.

After a momentary delay while they figured out how to open the doors, which cemented her belief that they were actually willing to be reasonable, they got out of the car.

Anya lost her patience. “Look! You can’t ….”

Legion closed his eyes, frowned faintly as if concentrating, and then began to glow … and blur. Anya blinked to clear her vision and, when she did, discovered that Captain Laine was standing where Legion had been seconds before.

“Laine?” Anya asked uneasily.

He looked at her and a shiver skated through her. After a moment, she dragged her gaze from him and looked at Zavier and discovered that he’d taken on the form of a complete stranger—no doubt someone he’d seen in the city. Unnerved, she studied them for several moments, but she couldn’t think of any reason why they would be noticed as they were now beyond being strangers and she was a stranger if it came to that. She looked at Legion again. “Say something.”

He looked surprised. “What would you have me say?”

Anya sucked in a steadying breath. “Don’t talk. You don’t sound human,” she added at his look of confusion.”

Trying to shrug off her uneasiness, she turned and headed into town. They fell into step on either side of her, studying everything they passed with a keen interest that was almost as unnerving as her thoughts because she realized they were recording everything.

The more she discovered that they were capable of doing the more uneasy they made her. Despite their strange voices and ‘foreign’ mannerisms and speech patterns, it was easy to fall into thinking that they were just as human as she was when they didn’t show her just how un-human they actually were by doing something no human was capable of. They looked human—or at least Legion did. If they’d only displayed the minor capabilities of telepathy, telekinesis and so forth that some humans had, it would’ve been easier to accept. No doubt it would still have taken some getting used to when she didn’t know any paranormals personally, but the capabilities of even the strongest of human paranormals was negligible enough that, when they used their abilities, it was merely a little startling.

She didn’t know of any who had the ability to morph into something, or someone, else entirely, though.

Although she’d struggled to suppress it, the memory of Legion’s offer to change his appearance so that he looked like Jeremy returned to haunt her. She supposed she’d believed then that he could do it or she wouldn’t have been so upset. At the time, she’d been too devastated about the entire suggestion to think much beyond the way it had made her feel.

She wondered now why he’d offered. He’d asked if it would make him more acceptable to her if he looked like Jeremy. Why would he be willing to do that, she wondered? She might have thought it didn’t particularly matter to him what he looked like, but she’d come to realize that he was as linked to his physical appearance as anyone else—maybe more so than a lot of people. Despite the apparent stigma of his childhood because of his appearance, he’d clung to it as an integral part of his identity. Even Zavier had. He’d changed the color of his skin and hair, but he hadn’t changed anything else and it was obvious now that he could have.

There was only one explanation that came to mind and Anya found she wasn’t willing to accept it. She just couldn’t believe she mattered that much to him. He had attached himself to her with grim determination almost from the first, informing her he’d chosen her as his mate, but she hadn’t put a lot stock in that. As flattering as it was to be singled out by a being so obviously superior in every way, she couldn’t see that she was exceptional enough to warrant it. She wasn’t even particularly exceptional among her own kind.

She thought she was generally considered ‘pretty’ but she certainly wasn’t beautiful. She was smart. She’d done well, graduated high in her class, but she was a long way from being a genius. She’d always thought her figure was probably her best asset and thought it was a little above ‘ordinary’, but she knew there were plenty of women who had as good a figure as she did.

Why her? And why was it important enough to him that he was willing to adopt the form of her late husband only to please her? Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose if he wanted her to care about him? Or did that not actually enter his mind? Was that unimportant to him as long as she accepted him?

She realized he’d been right to accuse her of arrogance when she’d decided he just didn’t feel what she considered ‘human’ emotions. He wasn’t insensitive or unfeeling, despite the fact that his superiority made him oblivious to the needs and suffering of the ‘lesser beings’ he’d come to live among. Maybe he had shut himself off from a lot of his emotions, but then he could hardly be despised for it considering what he must have endured.

Was that what made her important to him? Not love as she thought of it, but a need he hadn’t realized he had until she’d somehow triggered the urge?

Not very flattering. Not that it mattered. He couldn’t stay—neither of them could.

Zavier’s motivations were even more confusing that Legion’s. She thought she could understand both the conflict between them and the fact that, despite the constant irritant, they also couldn’t bring them themselves to stay away from one another. They were brothers, twins, and the only two, as far as they knew, of their race left. Those were all very strong reasons to pull them together and, of course, almost the same things kept them at odds.

She didn’t know why Zavier had chosen to show her what he had, maybe so that she’d understand them a little better, though she suspected he’d thought the memory would turn her away from Legion. His perception of the event, no doubt, was that he’d been brave and strong and Legion, by comparison, had been weak. Legion had also been hurt pretty badly, though, and her perception was that he’d been very manful considering how young he was.

Truthfully, although at the time she’d been too eaten up with the green monster to focus that much on the plight of the children, the memory of it made her hurt for both of them. Obviously their unique abilities had ensured their survival, but they still hadn’t been much more than babies. They’d needed nurturing, guidance they hadn’t gotten, the sense of security any child needs from the belief that they have someone watching over them.

Their parents hadn’t been there to deal with the inevitable sibling rivalry, which seemed worse to her in their case because they’d also resented the stigma apparently attached in their society to the birth of twins, and the confusion of individuality. They were completely different, regardless of their physical appearance, but it was obvious most of the infighting was because they despised the fact that someone else had their face. They hadn’t been able to accept and enjoy it as so many human twins did, or at least seemed to. On the other hand, she’d seen as many who behaved much like Legion and Zavier did, striving to be as different from their twin as they possibly could and resenting anyone remarking on similarities.

In their case, though, there’d been nothing and no one to referee and help them try to work out their resentment of one another, which seemed to have been compounded by a fear in both of them that their mother loved one more than the other—and she hadn’t been there to offer the reassurance they needed.

Given their history, though, it was even more incomprehensible to her that Zavier had not only decided to stay but had willingly agreed to ‘share’ her—or that Legion had agreed to it.

What was that all about?

She could grasp that Zavier had decided she must be the ‘best’ if Legion had settled his sights on her. She could even have understood it if they’d decided to fight to the death over the same ‘territory’ given their history, and realized it wasn’t really personal, or anything to preen over. It would’ve seemed logical, though, if Zavier had looked around for ‘better’ so that he could lord it over Legion that he’d found a better mate.

The arrogant assholes! Not that she hadn’t thoroughly enjoyed their vying for her attentions the night before, but the nerve of both of them to think that they only had to make up their own minds and it was a done deal!

She’d told Legion she wasn’t interested in being his mate!

And now both of them had moved in on her as happily as if they’d been invited!

She supposed it was completely incomprehensible to them that she, a far lesser being, might not appreciate being the ‘chosen one’ of two such marvelous creatures as they were!

She’d managed to work her anger up fairly well until she abruptly recalled the conversation with Legion the night before and empathy instantly deflated the bubble of resentment. Oddly enough, his anger hadn’t unnerved her. She wasn’t certain if that was because she’d come to trust, however stupid that might be, that he would never harm her no matter how angry he might be, or if it was because she’d realized at the time that it wasn’t really anger but pain.

Regardless of the fact that both of them seemed supremely self-confident—to the point of often seeming more like arrogant assholes!—there was a lot of bottled up anguish in both of them. Which was worse? Losing their parents at a time in their lives when they’d still desperately needed them? Or losing their home world, everything familiar, and any hope of a future among their own kind? It was hard to say, but she thought, given time, they would’ve been able to cope with the loss of their parents if they could have had the home familiar to them and found a mate among their own kind. Having a family of their own, she thought, and familiar surroundings, would have made it possible to set aside a lot of the hurt and focus on the future instead of the past.

Maybe that was the driving need behind their determination to mate with her? It was the only option open to them, to find a new home and settle among beings that at least had a physical similarity. It was the closest they could come to ‘normal’.

But why her?

Because there was something about her that seemed to remind them of their mother?

Also not flattering, but it was actually a well established scientific fact that humans tended to look for traits in a mate that reminded them of the primary nurturer in their life—sometimes in appearance, but most often temperament or personality traits, because to them that made them ‘right’ as a partner for their own children. She supposed she couldn’t quibble with that, but she also thought they could probably find a mate fairly easily that had some of the same traits, or maybe even more—a paranormal would be closer, she was sure. She was hardly that unique, regardless of what Zavier had said.

She realized with a touch dismay that she didn’t actually like the idea that they might. She would certainly be better off if they did. She couldn’t really handle one alien. She certainly couldn’t handle both—not for any length of time.

They would screw her to death in nothing else!

Besides, regardless of how wonderful they were as lovers, and they were, she couldn’t settle for just sex—however fabulous. If she’d been willing to, she could’ve done that long ago. She needed more.

Truthfully, although she wouldn’t have admitted it under torture before, it was Jeremy’s companionship she missed more than anything else. The sex between them hadn’t been fabulous except in the sense that it fulfilled her need for closeness to him. She’d loved him, desperately. She hadn’t actually needed to come when they had sex to feel complete. It had thrilled her just to give him pleasure.

Maybe, she admitted reluctantly, if they’d had more time together that would have changed. Maybe she’d idealized their short marriage and it would’ve fallen apart in time. She didn’t know. She would never know now but, whether that was true or not, it had spoiled her. She wanted to love and be loved. She wanted companionship. She couldn’t see any reason to settle for less. She could have sex without any sort of commitment at all.

She wasn’t happy when it dawned on her that, for the first time since his death, she was picking apart her relationship with Jeremy and examining it in a way she never had before, but since they arrived at their destination she was able to put it from her mind.

Legion and Zavier surprised her by not speaking. Ordinarily, they were so indifferent to, or oblivious of, other beings that they did pretty much as they pleased—not surprising since there didn’t actually seem to be any consequences, to them, for doing just as they pleased at all times. She was relieved and gratified that they’d considered her feelings on the matter, though.

She was still uneasy. Their interest in examining everything, it seemed to her, drew more attention than she liked. She wasn’t certain if it was paranoia or not, but she hurried to fill the mental list she’d compiled, paid for her purchases, and headed back.

Legion and Zavier obligingly took her packages and carried them, although they looked torn between disapproval and confusion over the entire thing. The moment they settled in the back seat of her car, they dropped their ‘disguises’ and began to unload the packages and examine everything. They didn’t ask what they were or what they were for, which surprised her until it dawned on her they’d probably ‘filched’ the information from her memory.

“Yes, I know—primitive,” she muttered when she caught Legion’s gaze in her rearview mirror. “I have to wonder if you compare everything to your own world or the others you’ve visited.”

“Our world,” Zavier responded promptly. “The others were more primitive even than this one.”

“Well it’s a damned shame you have to settle for so much less than you’re used to!” Anya snapped irritably.

Zavier met her glare with a look of amusement. “We are accustomed to settling for less,” he murmured provokingly.

She returned her attention to the roadway, folding her arms irritably since she’d programmed the computer and didn’t actually have to guide the car. She heard the rattle of the package and a moment later, he slid his arms over the seat and around her. “This world has one definite asset the others lacked, though,” he murmured against her ear, closing his lips around the sensitive shell and prompting the eruption of a frantic herd of goosebumps all over her. Heat blossomed inside of her despite her residual annoyance.

She pushed his arms away. “I’m really not interested in sex. I had enough yesterday to satisfy me for a while,” she lied, although, ordinarily, that would’ve been a statement of fact. She didn’t have a particularly strong libido, at least she’d never thought she did.

He ignored the rejection, cupping one breast and unerringly capturing the nipple between his thumb and forefinger—not that difficult since it had stood erect the moment he nuzzled her ear. “But we have not completed the mating rite.”

Chapter Twelve

That comment effectively dampened Anya’s enthusiasm. Pushing his hands away, she turned in her seat to look at him. “You aren’t ser ….”

Apparently, he considered it an invitation. The moment she turned to face him, he speared his fingers through her hair and dragged her close enough to trap her mouth beneath his. She didn’t struggle or try to evade him because he took her completely off guard and by the time it occurred to her to try she’d lost much interest in doing either.

He didn’t kiss at all like Legion did—or taste the same—but he was just as devastating to her senses, scattering her wits and turning her into a mindless mass of rioting sensations.

If her stomach hadn’t taken that moment to complain of neglect, she wasn’t certain how far it might have gone, but since it did, it effectively distracted both of them.

Zavier looked so disconcerted she might have laughed if she hadn’t been embarrassed.

“I’m going to expire if I don’t eat something,” she muttered. “I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday.”

Consternation flickered in both men’s eyes as they exchanged a glance. “This is true?” Legion demanded, although it was clear he was both confused and doubtful.

Anya felt her face heat. “No, it isn’t true,” she said testily. “It’s an exaggeration, but I need to eat. I feel weak and a little sick.”

Zavier looked displeased. Legion didn’t look very pleased with the information if it came to that. “This conveyance is too slow.”

Anya uttered an irritated sigh. “It’s plenty fast enough.” She was on the point of informing Legion that it was something he should get used to since humans didn’t travel at the speed of thought, as they apparently did most of the time, but then there was no reason for them to get accustomed to it. “We’re almost there,” she added instead.

They not only didn’t look appeased, they both studied her as if they thought she might drop dead somewhere between the car and the house while they trooped inside with the food she’d bought. She headed to the kitchen. They followed.

When they’d settled the packages, she began to sort the contents, grabbing a skillet out and setting in on the stove top. “You said you didn’t need to eat, but do you want to?” she asked, turning to them questioningly before she put away the extra steaks she’d bought.

They eyed the bloody slabs of meat suspiciously. “We will eat,” Zavier decided for both of them, earning a narrow eyed glare from Legion, although he didn’t disagree.

“This is animal flesh?” he demanded.

Anya shrugged. “Sort of—I guess, yes. It was never part of an actual animal, though. We require protein, but they haven’t slaughtered animals for it in decades. The flesh is grown in factories. I’ve heard it tastes the same, but I wouldn’t know. I just know that it tastes better than the reconstituted meals everyone in the cities eats. Very primitive,” she added sarcastically. “But then, the country is very backwards since the war. Actually, I suppose it was always a little behind modernization, but we managed.”

With a mental shrug, she set the extra steaks beside the skillet and turned the heat on. That instantly caught their attention and they moved closer to examine it—getting in her way. Rolling her eyes, she focused on putting away the remainder of the food in the food locker and refrigeration unit, nudging them out of her way when she’d finished and the cooking unit, she decided, was hot enough to cook.

After seasoning one of the steaks, she dropped it into the heated skillet. Dragging out another skillet and a knife, she moved to the sink and began chopping up the vegetables she’d chosen into thin slices that would cook fast, then washed and drained them. She met a wall of flesh as she turned from the sink and discovered Legion and Zavier had followed her to watch.

“I do wish you two would sit down and watch from over there,” she said testily.

They retreated a short distance.

“The flesh is burning,” Legion pointed out.

Anya ground her teeth. “It isn’t burning. It’s cooking.” After pouring a small amount of oil into the empty skillet and giving it a few moments to heat, she tossed the vegetables in and sprinkled seasoning over them. Legion and Zavier, she discovered when she lifted the edge of the steak to determine whether or not it had cooked long enough to flip it, had moved to stand on either side of her again.

Deciding to ignore them, she focused on tending the food. “Plate,” she ordered when she’d flipped the steak. When neither of them moved, she glanced at Legion. “Three plates. In the cabinet there. You’ll need to wash them.”

He moved to the cabinet she’d pointed out and removed three plates, staring at them frowningly. She pointed to the sink. “They’ve been sitting there gathering dust for years. You’ll need to wash them—like we washed ourselves last night,” she added.

There was an advantage, she thought ruefully, to having intelligence. Nothing in her world, obviously, was the least familiar to them, but they grasped everything so quickly that it was hardly even noticeable that it wasn’t something they already knew. She tried to imagine anyone she knew who hadn’t grown up as she had adjusting so quickly but doubted many of them could manage it—even assuming they didn’t balk outright at attempting it.

She certainly couldn’t imagine Laine, or any of the other men on the station with her, washing a dish. Shoving food into the reconstituter and then dropping the empty container in the recycler seemed to be the limit of their knowledge or experience in kitchen duties and as much as they wanted to know.

The dishes were not only clean when he returned with them, they were dry. She decided not to ask him how he’d managed that. Taking the plates, she used a fork to spear the first steak and dropped it on the top plate, then tossed another steak into the skillet and stirred the vegetables. Deciding they’d browned enough, she lowered the heat and placed a lid on top to let them steam.

“I like this smell,” Zavier commented after a time. “It appeals.”

Pleased, Anya chuckled and threw him a smile. “Does it? It tastes pretty much the way it smells, so that’s always a good thing—when the smell appeals.”

When she’d taken up the second steak and tossed the third on, she spooned a heap of the vegetables onto each plate and moved the plates to the table. Grabbing knives and forks from a drawer, she washed them at the sink and then returned to the table and carved off a small portion of each steak for herself. “There’ll be more when the other steak is done, but I’m famished. I can’t wait for it.”

They settled in the chairs on either side of her, watched her for a few moments as she cut a bite sized piece of meat and popped it into her mouth and then followed suit. As hungry as she was, she watched them surreptitiously as they tried first the steak and then the vegetables. It was hard to tell from their expressions whether they liked it or not. She thought they weren’t entirely sure themselves. She discovered, however, when she’d gotten up to tend the last steak, that they’d cleaned their plates and were eyeing hers with interest.

After dividing the remaining steak into three portions, she passed them around and then gave them most of the remaining vegetables.

“You said you didn’t actually have to eat,” she murmured questioningly when she’d settled again.

“We enjoy eating,” Zavier qualified, “as we enjoy all things the vessel allows us. This is why we maintain the body. But it is actually far more efficient to simply take in the energy we need to maintain both.”

Anya frowned, confused, then abruptly recalled the mysterious drain on the power on the space platform and glanced at Legion sharply. “You were pulling the power.”

He flicked a speculative glance at her. “The void through which I had traveled so long had little to offer by way of sustenance.”

Anya digested that in silence, but it didn’t take long to realize that he had to have been near ‘starving’ when he’d arrived. If they usually pulled energy from around them and it wasn’t ordinarily noticeable, then that was the only explanation she could think of for the very noticeable power drain. He’d been badly in need.

Did that also account for his efforts to ‘persuade’ the crew, she wondered? The efforts that had led to such a disaster? He hadn’t admitted it, but he must have been very weak, and vulnerable. Maybe he’d realized that they could kill him if he didn’t use what he had to convince them not to?

He didn’t want her to know he’d been weak and it wasn’t because he thought she presented any threat to him anymore. Maybe he was just wary of allowing any potential enemy to know that, regardless of how powerful he seemed, he had weaknesses, but she thought it was far more likely that it was his pride. No man—human man—wanted to appear weak to a woman they were interested in.

And maybe her opinion of him mattered, at least a little?

It gave her a little thrill to think that might be so, and disturbed her at the same time that she should be so pleased about it.

“Why do you always refer to ‘the body’ as if it isn’t a part of you?” she asked instead of pursuing the other interesting subject.

Zavier, she discovered, was studying her assessingly. “We do not need it to exist. It contains us … and constrains us because it is almost as fragile as your own. Mine, of course, is less so than the body that Legion is so fond of, but still it requires a good deal of upkeep to maintain it.”

Legion glared at him. “That outer wrap you use is unappealing and it is not that much more resilient than mine.”

“It appeals to me,” Zavier retorted, obviously irritated.

“But does it appeal to Anya?” Legion asked pointedly, smiling at Zavier in a way that Anya could only consider very provoking.

She met their gazes as they turned to her. “Oh no! You’re not dragging me into your argument!”

Legion looked surprised and more than a little displeased. “It is not an argument.”

“Yet!”

“Then you do not find it pleasing?” Zavier said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Anya gaped at him. “It takes a little getting used to,” she finally admitted, reluctantly, “but that’s not to say it isn’t appealing … in it’s own way, just different. And, of course you’re both very handsome.”

Legion and Zavier both glared at her. “Because we look the same.”

“Well, you certainly don’t act the same!” she said testily. “You’re as different in personality as anyone else. You both look just like your father! I don’t know why you have a problem looking like each other!”

“You thought that I was Legion when I first came to you,” Zavier pointed out grimly.

Anya gaped at him. “That’s completely unfair! You did that deliberately—tricked me on purpose—so you needn’t take exception to it now. Besides, I wasn’t expecting anyone but Legion because I didn’t know about you. I did notice, immediately, that you didn’t act anything like Legion. I just couldn’t figure out why you were so different.”

She got up from the table abruptly. “I see you seemed to enjoy the food,” she added nervously, grabbing up the empty plates and heading for the sink.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or more unnerved when they got up and left instead of following her as they had before.

“Remember! You promised not to do any of those scary things anymore!” she called after them a little hopefully.

It only took a few minutes to clean up. When she’d finished, she debated whether to go after them and see what they were up to. Finally, her alarm overrode her reluctance and she went outside and looked around. Frowning when she saw no sign of either of them, trying to convince herself they hadn’t removed their battle to a distance to keep her from knowing about it, she moved around the house.

As soon as she reached the side that faced the barn, she heard them—or rather meaty thuds and crashes that she knew couldn’t be anything else but the two of them pounding away at each other as they had the first time she’d seen them fighting when they’d, apparently, run out of enough energy to blast away at each other with that.

She had the feeling when she peered in at them that the argument they’d begun in the kitchen had just escalated into physical violence. Legion had just popped—Legion in the mouth with one balled fist. Zavier had obviously decided to discard the ‘wrap’ as Legion had referred to it and had assumed his natural form and she couldn’t, for the life of her figure out which was which.

They weren’t going to be happy about that, she thought uneasily, wondering if she should just tiptoe away and let them resolve their issues with their fists if that was what they were determined to do.

On the other hand, they hadn’t resolved a damned thing and they’d obviously been going at one another fairly regularly since they were children.

She didn’t particularly want to watch them trying to pulverize each other, but after a moment, she went inside without making any attempt to be quiet and sat down as calmly as she could.

One of them noticed her immediately. His inattention to his opponent earned him a fist in the eye. He stumbled back a few steps, uttered a snarl of rage and launched himself at his brother.

Her stomach tied itself in knots, but she did her best to preserve a front of nothing more than mild interest until they’d worn themselves out and dropped tiredly to the floor of the barn.

“Who won?” she asked, drawing both men’s attention.

They studied her with almost identical expressions of annoyance.

Ignoring the uneasiness in her stomach, she shook her head at them. “For such marvelously intelligent men, this is the most incredibly stupid thing to do! Come on inside and get cleaned up and I’ll put something on those cuts and bruises.”

The two men exchanged a look.

“We have no need,” Legion said stiffly. “We are capable of mending the bodies ourselves.”

Anya glared at them, planting her fists on her hips. “But you won’t. You’ll suffer through it just like us ‘lesser beings’ do, endure the pain until it heals naturally … and maybe, then pounding on each other every time you’re angry won’t hold quite as much appeal!”

She was actually surprised when they did.

They hit a snag at the shower.

Grabbing Zavier’s hand, she led him down the hallway to the other bath and left him to his own devises. She was certain she’d correctly identified him when she heard a yelp from the direction of the shower. Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she went back into the bathroom and showed him how to adjust the temperature of the water.

“Will you bathe me as you did Legion?”

Anya studied him for a moment and realized the question wasn’t merely an attempt at seduction. It was a demand to know if he could expect equal attention and maybe a little reluctance to admit he didn’t actually know how everything worked. Discarding her clothes, she took his hand and drew him into the shower with her.

Her anger dissipated as she soaped the wash cloth. “Neither of you seems to have grasped that I don’t like to see you hurting one another,” she said quietly as she lifted the soapy cloth and began to carefully wash his battered chest. He sucked in a hissing breath as she swiped the cloth across one deeply reddened pec. She glanced up at him apologetically and felt her breath catch at the look in his eyes.

There was yearning there, but it went beyond desire.

Her throat closed as the image of him as a child filled her mind. He’s used anger to mask the hurt, confusion, and fear he’d felt at being abandoned to fend for himself. She supposed they both had, using one another to try to keep all the emotions at bay that they didn’t know how to deal with. Anger was easy, primal, she supposed, even in their race, and striking out a way to expel the hurt.

It seemed equally obvious that the pain was as fresh now as ever, or maybe they’d just fallen into the habit of clashing over every little thing and saw no reason to change?

“Why does it matter to you?” he asked finally. “You can not feel the pain we inflict upon one another.”

“You’re wrong. I can,” she said quietly. “Maybe not the way you do, but it still makes me hurt.”

A look of cunning entered his eyes. “If it is so important to you, you can soothe the hurt by giving me pleasure instead.”

Anya couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t think it’s going to be as easy to soothe it as you seem to think,” she murmured, reaching up to rub a finger lightly along his swollen lip.

Pain flickered across his features and was firmly tamped. Smiling inwardly, Anya returned her attention to bathing him. She hesitated when she reached his genitals, but instead of leaving that part for him to wash himself as she had with Legion the night before, she lightly brushed the cloth over him and then dropped the cloth to the floor of the shower. Holding his gaze, she used her soapy hands to stroke his cock and his testicles.

He stiffened all over at her touch, his member leaping instantly, and very gratifyingly, to life. Sucking in a ragged breath, he moved closer, grasped a handful her hair and dragged her head back. Without regard for his injured lip, he covered her mouth in hungry assault, stroked his tongue boldly across hers and then sucked on hers ravenously when she replied in kind.

Her skin prickled all over with stinging sensation, the muscles low in her belly tightening in anticipation. Reaching between them, he stroked her genitals as she stroked his, parting the lips of her sex and exploring her with a hand that trembled notably with eagerness. It made her own desire spike.

She dragged in a shuddering breath as he broke the kiss, pushing her back against the shower wall as he sucked at the sensitive skin along her throat and finally grabbed her and hoisted her upward, capturing the peak of one breast in almost the same motion. She wrapped her legs around his waist to support herself as he did, locking her ankles together, and coiled her arms around his shoulders.

Her head swam with the heated, intoxicating fumes of desire swirling in her mind, her head dropping back weakly as he pulled her away from the shower wall. Briefly, a complete sense of disorientation engulfed her as a second mouth settled over hers, but she realized Legion had joined them even as she felt his heat at her back.

It was the most wildly exciting thing she’d ever felt in her life, to feel the tug of a mouth at her breast and the deeply satisfying penetration of her mouth at the same time. She lifted one arm from Zavier and looped it around Legion’s shoulders, returning his kiss with fervor. He pushed Zavier from her breast, cupped it in his hand, and began massaging it.

Zavier moved to her other breast.

In a moment, Legion broke from her lips, bent her back over his arm and suckled the breast he’d been kneading with his hand.

Liquid fire was pouring through her so fast and from so many different directions at once that Anya lost touch with everything but the focus of pleasure, clinging weakly to them both while she struggled to catch her breath. She was more than ready for it when Zavier shifted her weight and thrust inside of her, feeling her body quake in its first minor eruption almost before he’d completely claimed her desire slickened passage with his thick member.

He pulled her more fully against him once he’d burrowed to the hilt inside of her and she felt the stroke of Legion’s hand on her buttock, and then his fingers parting her cleft. His first, tentative penetration stung enough to make her jerk in pain. Easing the pressure instantly, he stroked the abused bud lightly with the tip of his finger, soothing the sting and then pressed into her again, that time without discomfort, but with a pleasurable sense of fullness that equaled the gratification she’d felt when Zavier filled her.

Holding her snugly between them, they began to move, slowly at first and then with more surety as they achieved the rhythm they needed, moved more fluidly together. Her second climax was harder and longer in duration. She moaned, clung to Zavier as it thundered through her. It sent them over the edge and they began to pound into her with a fevered need that sent her spiraling dizzily upward toward release again.

Legion stiffened abruptly, drove as deeply inside of her as he could and uttered a choked growl of satisfaction as he spilled his seed into her. She groaned, trembled as she felt him reach his crisis and then felt herself pitched from the precipice again even as a deep groan vibrated from Zavier’s chest. He tightened his arms around her almost crushingly as Legion withdrew from her and stepped back, hammering into her a half dozen more times. Ecstasy splintered her. She sucked in a sharp breath that edged a scream as bliss exploded through her in wracking waves, only vaguely aware of Zavier’s shattering release.

He held her tightly for many moments after the weakening waves had begun to subside and finally nudged her chin up and kissed her gustily on the mouth. “That was worth the heart attack I nearly had, minotez,” he murmured teasingly against her throat.

She thought he was teasing. She lifted her head to look at him questioningly, smiling back at him when she saw that his eyes were dancing with humor.

Legion slipped his arms around her. Pulling her from Zavier’s arms, he settled her on her feet, then turned her in his embrace and kissed her deeply. She was almost too wobbly legged and weak to stand on her own when he released her.

Flicking a tentative smile at him, she took up the soap and washcloth again and washed Zavier’s back while Legion toyed with her ass and hit at washing hers, chuckling when they shuffled around to reverse positions. “I think the other shower might be bigger.”

Legion scanned the shower where they stood. “It is not. It only seemed so because only you and I were in it before.”

She sent him a searching look and glanced at Zavier. Relief filled her when she saw that Legion hadn’t intended to give offense and Zavier hadn’t taken it.

“We will need a larger shower,” Zavier agreed.

Anya felt a strange little twist to her heart at that. It was almost as uncomfortable as the resentment she’d felt before when they’d spoken and behaved as if it was a foregone conclusion that she belonged to them. She tried to prod the resentment to life but discovered that she felt sad instead.

They couldn’t stay, even if she wanted them to. She had to make them understand that. So far, they’d managed to evade the net she knew the military had thrown out to capture them in the belief that they could either destroy them or use them. Sooner or later, though, and probably sooner, someone would figure out where she’d gone, put it together with Legion’s possessiveness toward her, and they would have to leave.

She discovered she didn’t really want to think about that at the moment. They had some time, a little peace. Aside from being excellent lovers, they intrigued her and they seemed content, at least for now, to refrain from using the power they could wield at will and simply study her … and fuck her blind.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved, amused, or disappointed that they seemed satisfied with the one coupling. They finished bathing and dried themselves and then she led them into the kitchen, bade them sit in the straight chairs and examined their bruises.

Zavier was noticeably revolted when she handed him a piece of raw meat to put on his black eye, explaining to him that it was an ancient remedy but actually worked pretty well.

“I will not put that on my lip,” Legion said flatly.

Anya bit her lip to try to refrain from laughing, but a chuckle escaped her anyway.

He looked disconcerted. She straddled his lap and coiled her arms around his shoulders, aligning her nose with his. “Not even for me?” she purred.

He reared back to bring her into focus. She could see he was trying to decide whether she was serious or not and chuckled again. “That isn’t the remedy for a cut lip,” she said, relenting, and leaning toward him to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Only bruising and swelling. An ice pack would have done as well or better—and been less messy—but we don’t have ice.”

He caught her hips when she tried to scoot off his lap, studying her face. She realized after a moment that he was intrigued by her playfulness, wanted more, but didn’t quite know how to respond. Her throat tightened. On impulse, she put her nose to his again and crossed her eyes.

He smiled faintly. “Why did you do that?”

She grinned back at him, pushing his hands away and getting up. “You never made funny faces?”

“What is a funny face?” Zavier asked curiously.

She sucked her cheeks in to make fish lips and wiggled them at him while crossing her eyes. He looked taken aback. “That is attractive.”

Laughing, she swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “It isn’t supposed to be. It’s supposed to look funny and make you laugh,” she said wryly. “Except usually kids do it. Let me have a look at that eye.”

He eased his hold on the slab of meat as she placed her hand over his and then lifted the edge to peer at his face. “Uh oh. I think this might be too late to be very helpful. You should’ve been doing this instead of humping me in the shower—with hot water.” Removing the piece of meat, she slapped it back in its package and tossed it into the refrigeration unit again.

Zavier was studying his bloodied hand when she returned with a wet cloth and carefully bathed his face off. “Yep. That’s definitely going to be a shiner—almost as bad as the one Robbie got … my oldest brother had once,” she finished with an effort at lightness that had suddenly vanished. She handed him the cloth to wipe his hand and moved to the sink, trying to shrug off the sadness that had descended upon her with the memory.

“When I was a little girl, we had a swing in that tree. Daddy put it up for us and we spent half our time fighting over who’d get to use it.”

One of them—Legion, she thought—moved up behind her, slipping a hand around her waist. “This place makes you sad?” he murmured near her ear.

She knew, then, that it was Legion and lifted her hand, settling it over his at her waist. Thinking it over, she leaned back against him, enjoying the feeling of closeness. “It’s called bittersweet,” she murmured after a moment. “Most of the memories are good and it makes me happy to remember. It’s just … they’re gone now.”

She twisted her head to look at him, wondering what he really thought of her. He didn’t look bored or uncomfortable, though. He looked almost … content, even though his gaze was distant, as if he was thinking of his own past.

She smiled at him when he met her gaze. “What should we do with the rest of the day? Chores? Or play?”

He smiled back at her. “You chose. I have not done either.”

“I think I’d like to go for a walk and just look at the place.”

She turned to look for Zavier when Legion had stepped away. Looping her arm through Legion’s, she held out her hand to Zavier. “Come on, blacky,” she said teasingly.

He sent her a curious look, but rose and took her hand. “What is this ‘blacky’?” he asked suspiciously as she led them out the back door.

She squinted one eye at him and chuckled at the look he sent her.

“You find it humorous that my little brother blackened my eye?”

“Not that,” she said, shaking her head.

“I am only sextants younger,” Legion informed him tightly.

Anya batted her eyelashes at him. “I’ve always been intrigued by younger men.”

Surprise flickered across his face, then gratification before he frowned. “I am reasonably certain that I am a great deal older than you.”

“Don’t tell me! Let me enjoy my fantasy! Zavier is my older man fantasy and you’ll be my younger man fantasy!”

Legion’s lips twitched. “You are in a … strange mood.”

Anya chuckled instead of taking exception. Pulling away from them, she danced in front of them and then flung her arms out and twirled in a circle. “I feel wonderful!”

Zavier grinned at her abruptly. “And why is it that you feel wonderful?”

She gave him a knowing smile but refused to pander to his ego. “Because I’m home and I haven’t been here in forever!” Discomfort wafted through her when she realized what she’d said and what thoughts it might bring to their minds, but she pushed it away determinedly. “And I have no responsibilities … for the moment, anyway. Maybe for a very long time if I get fired for leaving without giving any notice, but I don’t really care at the moment,” she added wryly. At least she was pretty certain she wasn’t facing charges and jail time anymore—thanks to Legion.

Not that the committee had actually handed down their decision before she’d left, but she didn’t see how they could possibly find anything to charge her with when she hadn’t even been conscious at the time of the accident, or directly before it—hadn’t been in any shape to take part in the mutiny at all.

It distressed her that Laine the others might be facing charges, at least of some kind, but she rather thought Laine’s dumb luck would hold and he’d figure a way out of it. He’d been the commanding officer, after all. He hadn’t mutinied or been directly responsible for it.

In any case, she was fairly certain no one had much on their mind besides Legion and Zavier since the battle in the city. Between the shock of what they were capable of and the discovery that there were two of them ….

She felt pleasantly tired when they returned to the house later. She’d been right. It was bittersweet to return to the home of her youth, but she felt more relaxed than she’d felt in so long she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d felt so carefree … or happy.

Of course, she knew being home was only a part of it, maybe not even the biggest part of it.

Probably not.

She was pretty sure if she’d returned alone and Legion and Zavier hadn’t come that she would’ve been bored and probably miserable on top of that. She wouldn’t have been able to push aside the grief for her losses and focus on the happy memories.

Discontent fluttered in the back of her mind, and anxiety, but she refused to consider a future that seemed bleak. She didn’t want to think about her job or the possibility that she’d been fired either because of the accident on the space platform or leaving without notice.

She didn’t want to think about returning to the life she’d had, for that matter. The best case scenario—that she hadn’t been fired and would be prepping for a new mission—wasn’t any more appealing than the prospect of hunting work. She knew it couldn’t last forever, that sooner or later the world would come crashing down on her, but she didn’t want that certainty to ruin her enjoyment of the moment.

When they returned near dusk, she dragged Legion and Zavier into the kitchen to help her prepare the evening meal instead of merely watching, instructing them on the meal she’d decided to prepare as she took out vegetables and meat.

Legion whacked his thumb off with the butcher knife instead of chopping up the carrot she’d given him. They both stared at the severed digit in shock for several moments. Finally, glaring at it, Legion picked his thumb up, carefully realigned it and … his hand glowed. He sent her an uncomfortable glance as he flexed the reattached digit.

Anya, who was still trying to decide whether to throw up or faint, smiled at him weakly and wobbled to a chair to put her head between her knees. “Is it still bleeding?” she asked Legion when he crouched in front of her and tipped her chin up to look at her.

“No.”

She dragged in a shaky breath of relief and then burst into noisy sobs, flinging her arms around his neck. He wobbled, caught his balance, and wrapped his arms around her.

“You are distressed about the thumb?”

Sniffing, Anya nodded.

“Of course she is distressed about the thumb!” Zavier said testily. “You have bled all over the food!”

Anya uttered a horrified, watery chuckle, lifting her head. “I’m not worried about the food! I was upset that he hurt himself!”

“I did not hurt myself. It was the knife. In any case, it did not hurt,” Legion said promptly, “so you need not be upset.”

She mopped her face with her hands and sent him a look. “I know it did. It had to.”

He studied her curiously. “You are a doctor, Anya. You must be accustomed to wounds.”

She sniffed. “I’m actually not—people hardly ever get hurt on the ships or stations where I’m on duty … or cut parts off. Anyway, it isn’t the same! I never see the accident … and it’s never … never ….” She stopped and swallowed hard. Never anybody she cared deeply about, she realized.

She pulled away from him abruptly. “I was just shocked, that’s all. I’m alright if you’re alright.”

He held up his thumb and wiggled it and she was torn between the desire to bawl all over again and the hysterical urge to giggle. “I think I’ll cut the vegetables,” she said decisively. “You two can watch.”

Chapter Thirteen

The meal turned out surprisingly well, all things considered. Anya found that she wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about the food for all that, mostly because she was still jittery from Legion’s accident. Even so—with the exception of the thumb incident—it had been a good day and she wasn’t in any rush for it to end. Searching her mind for a ‘safe’ topic of conversation that she thought might allow her to avoid anything uncomfortable, she glanced at Zavier when they’d finished eating and abruptly recalled a word he’d said to her in his native tongue that had intrigued her. It had piqued her curiosity at the time, but she’d been too focused on ‘something’ else to ask what he meant. It took a few moments of mental trial and error to formulate the unfamiliar word in her mind and even attempt to replicate it. “What does meenoots mean?”

Amusement flickered in Zavier’s eyes. He glanced at Legion and asked a question—in their language. She could tell it was a question, though, by the way he said it.

“Minotez,” he corrected her. “It does not translate well.”

She studied him suspiciously for a long moment and then glanced at Legion. A faint smile played on his lips, she saw, and was immediately certain they just didn’t want to tell her what it meant. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to tell me,” she guessed.

“You will have to learn our language, minotez,” Legion said gently.

Warmed as much by the look in his eyes as she was by the way he said it, Anya blushed, struggling with conflicting emotions. Predominant among them was the unhappy realization that it wasn’t likely she would get the chance or that she would have them to talk to even if she learned enough to put a sentence or two together. Determinedly, she shrugged it off. “Then you can start by telling me the words for things I already know. What’s the word for brother?”

Legion and Zavier exchanged a look she found hard to decipher. “There is no word for it,” Zavier said finally.

Anya studied him with surprise and a spark of anger as it occurred to her that they didn’t actually want her to learn their language. Or maybe they thought she wasn’t intelligent enough to learn it? “How could there not be a word in your language for brother?”

Anger flickered in Zavier’s eyes, as well, which made her realize that he wasn’t merely teasing her or trying to be difficult. “There are not words for things that do not exist.”

Anya digested that with more than a little confusion. “No one has more than one child?” she guessed finally, although she found it almost impossible to believe.

“No one had,” Legion corrected her. “Most did not have even one. Only the niztheria were allowed.” He frowned, obviously considering the meaning of the word. “This is like rulers … but different … ruling class?” He shook his head. “That is not just right either.”

Anya searched her own vocabulary for a word that might be similar to what he meant. Remembering what she’d thought of the place Zavier had shown her where they had lived, an archaic word popped into her mind. “Aristocrats?”

He lifted his brows, but it was obvious that he’d ‘collected’ an impressive English vocabulary himself. “Much like that except that it was not determined by birth, but by their powers. Only those with the strongest were allowed to breed, and thus each generation was more powerful than the last.”

Anya stared at him in shock, but her thoughts were chaotic as she considered the implications. “You bred yourselves to be as you are? How many generations?”

Legion shrugged. “I do not know. There were no records before the time the gods visited our world and begat off-spring. It was their offspring who had the powers and only those who were allowed to breed thereafter.”

“Whoa!” Anya exclaimed, holding up her hand. “Gods?”

Amusement flickered in Legion’s eyes. “The ancient ones believed them to be gods, worshipped them as gods. This is why I asked you if your ancient ones spoke of gods who looked as we do and had the power.”

Momentarily diverted by that interesting possibly, Anya considered it for the first time. “I don’t know. I’ve never been much for history, particularly ancient religions, but there are paranomals who have abilities similar to yours—telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation and so forth. As far as I know, though, no one has more than one ability and, even at that, their gifts aren’t nearly as strong as yours.”

He studied her speculatively a moment. “There is only one power—the ability to manipulate atoms and energy. Those who have it must learn the skills to use it in various ways—even we did. Although we received only a little training when we were very young, we were taught certain skills and from those we taught ourselves the rest.”

“So … your people very carefully nurtured alien DNA and basically ignored their own?”

Zavier grimaced. “Yes … though in the beginning they did not understand that that was what they were doing. They merely wanted to emulate the gods they worshipped.”

Anya studied both men for several moments, abruptly remembering some of the history of her world. They hadn’t ‘embraced’ the differences in Earth’s past. In point of fact, she distinctly recalled that great efforts had been made to stamp out those with abilities similar to Legion’s and Zavier’s. In ancient times, they’d been considered witches or demons and killed by the ‘normals’ if they could get their hands on them. Maybe, she thought, that was why there wasn’t anyone on Earth that had powers even approaching theirs? They’d done just the opposite of the people of Legion and Zavier’s world.

She pushed those thoughts away with an inward shudder and focused on the present, realizing with a touch of surprise just how extraordinary Legion and Zavier were—even on their own world. She smiled at them a little teasingly. “So … you two are more special that anyone else from your world.”

They both looked confused and vaguely amused. “Why would you think that, beloved?” Legion asked curiously.

“No one but your mother had twins—and I know you don’t have a word for that either, but we do because it’s fairly common to us—and we still consider it a very special and wonderful thing. Conception itself is a miracle of nature, where all things must come together in just the right way at just the right time for it to happen. With you—you were truly unique and nothing can be more miraculous or wonderful than that.”

Zavier’s lips curled derisively. “We divided. It made each of us less powerful than one would have been.”

Anya gaped at him. “Good God! You mean that you’re only half as powerful as the typical … uh … what do you call yourselves?”

“Comptz,” Legion responded absently, obviously deep in thought. “It means ‘the people’.”

Anya noticed he was staring at Zavier thoughtfully, though, and not her. After a moment, the two exchanged a spate of words that were completely incomprehensible. Realizing after a few minutes that whatever it was that they were discussing wasn’t an argument, but wasn’t winding down either, she got up and cleared away the dishes. They were still discussing it when she finished clean up and finally leaned back against the cabinet behind her, folding her arms and studying them.

Despite a certain pique that she couldn’t follow the conversation and had been completely excluded from it, she discovered that she not only enjoyed listening to their voices and the cadence of their language, she enjoyed watching the two of them. Quite aside from the fact that they were just so stunning it was a pure pleasure to feast her eyes on them, they seemed comfortable, relaxed—at home in her kitchen … as if they belonged.

Dangerous thinking!

“Do I get to find out what this fascinating conversation is about?” she asked when they paused after a while.

They both turned to stare at her … almost as if they’d forgotten she was there, she thought wryly.

“You do not think that I would be twice as powerful as I am now if I had not split in two?” Zavier asked curiously.

Anya started to chuckle but then tamped her amusement, considering it seriously because she could see he hadn’t asked it lightly. Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t know about the physiology of your people. All I can say is that, with us, that certainly wouldn’t the case. The cell divides so early that it is literally doubling the original—nothing is lost. I suppose, if you two could somehow combine your powers then, together, you would be twice as powerful. Twins, our twins, are often linked in a way that’s hard to explain, but they sometimes have a connection that other siblings don’t—other brothers and sisters born of the same parents. Even without knowing the physiology of your people, though, I doubt very much that what you’re thinking would happen.

“Is that what everyone thought when your mother had two? Is that why there was a … stigma? Because they thought she’d failed to produce as expected?”

“Yes,” Legion said grimly. “In ancient times, before the gods came, it sometimes happened when our people bred indiscriminately. When we were born, they considered that our mother, or perhaps our father, carried the old genes. Even when it was proven that we had the powers, it was still considered that we would not have the strength of our parents—either parent, much less a combining that would be stronger—and that was always the objective in allowing a mating.”

Anya divided a look between them. “So … was I right? Or wrong?”

Legion’s eyes were warm with appreciation when they settled on her. “We have discussed it in depth and we have decided that you are correct. Zavier, since he was in training with our father, saw far more than I, but he can not recall that he saw anyone more capable of manipulating the beziartre, the power, than we are.”

Anya smiled at him. “Good! At least now you know they were wrong!” She sighed, pushing away from her prop. “I think I’ll leave you two to discuss this very important discovery in more depth. I’m going to bed.”

They got up and followed her. She had mixed feelings about it, performing a brief mental search to decide whether she was actually interested in what she was pretty sure they were. It was a short search. She wasn’t that tired and the moment she considered the possibility of sex, she felt anticipation bud inside of her.

Still, she didn’t want to be too much of a pushover!

She stopped in the door of her bedroom and faced them. “My bed is only big enough for one,” she said pointedly.

Legion crowded close, lifting a hand to caress her cheek. “We will make do,” he said huskily, amusement threading his voice. “It can not be more crowded than your shower.”

Anya felt warm and weak at the look in his eyes. “There is that,” she said, managing a faint smile.

A sense of breathlessness seized her as his face drifted closer to hers. “Still …,” she murmured as he brushed his lips lightly along hers and then promptly forgot the objection she’d been about to make as his mouth closed over hers in gentle suction. His hand glided from her cheek along the side of her head, his long fingers curling along the base of her skull to hold her for his exploration as he settled his mouth more firmly over hers and traced the sensitive seam where her lips met with the tip of his tongue.

Not that there was any possibility at all that she would even try to evade the wonderful feel of his mouth on hers, she thought hazily as heated longing filled her with the first stroke of his tongue along hers. She strained closer, needing to feel the press of his body along every inch of hers. A hunger filled her for it, to feel more, taste more of the drugging essence that was uniquely Legion.

Lifting her hands, she clutched at him blindly, pushing up on her tiptoes to align her body more fully with his and ease the strain from the difference in their heights.

To her vast disappointment, he firmly, but gently disentangled himself from her after only a few moments.

She sent him a look of reproach.

He stroked her cheek and then moved his hands to the closure of the one piece suit she wore, parting the closure. A little surprised that he would take the time to manually do what he could do without effort, she stood obediently still while he pushed it from her shoulders and arms and then reached for the supportive under shirt she wore and tugged it off over her head. He crouched then, hooking his thumbs in the suit now dangling at her waist and her under pants and peeling both off at the same time. She braced her palm on his shoulder as she stepped out of her clothing.

Instead of straightening at once, he caught her hips. Dragging her close, he nuzzled his face against her belly. It clenched almost painfully at the brush of his lips along the ultra sensitive flesh, sending a dizzying wave of want through her.

He wove a path upward as he rose to his full height, spreading stinging sensation across her entire body with the eruption of pebbling flesh in reaction to his touch. She was so drunk and disoriented with desire that she stared at him in complete confusion when he drew away from her and caught her hand, tugging at it to urge her to follow him.

More confusion flooded her when she saw the wide pallet formed from two mattresses that lay in the center of her room. It finally connected in her mind when she saw Zavier standing at the foot of the pallet that he’d taken the mattress from her bed and her sister’s and put them together. A shiver quaked through her at the realization that they both meant to join her when she’d thought Zavier had yielded the night to Legion.

Weak with excitement and, at the same time, feeling a little self-conscious and nervous, she knelt when Legion released her hand, moving to the center of the bed before she settled and glanced from one man to the other. They removed their own clothing as Legion had hers, stripping them off unhurriedly with their hands.

Impatience flickered through her despite the heat still coiled within her, or maybe because of it. Why, she wondered, did they seem in no rush when before they had been too impatient to use their hands when their minds were so much more efficient in ridding them of impediments to their desire?

“Does my form please you?”

Anya focused on Zavier when he spoke, her gaze skimming slowly over his body at his command to examine him. How could he be in any doubt, she wondered, feeling her throat close with need, her mouth go dry as she studied his beautifully sculpted body? “Yes,” she whispered finally, hardly able even to get that much past the tightness of her throat. She tensed, her heart trebling its beat as he knelt on the mattress.

“Does my form please you?” Legion asked, his voice hoarse.

Dragging her gaze from Zavier, Anya looked up at him, feeling her breath still in her chest, her heart trip over itself. She couldn’t manage more than a nod that time, but he seemed satisfied. He knelt on the mattress and moved toward her on his knees.

Framing her face in the L of his thumb and fingers, he covered her mouth with his, plunging his tongue immediately past the barrier of her lips and raking it possessively along hers. In that one bold invasion, he swept the faint uneasiness that had invaded her away as if it had never been, reawakened every pore, every nerve ending as though minutes had not separated his first touch from the second. She tried to twist around to face him, but his arm tightened along her waist, holding her as she was. Confusion flickered through her, but fled like mist before sunshine as the hand holding her drifted upward to cup and massage each breast in turn.

She was so weak and dizzy from his kiss that she could hardly hold her head upright when he released her and settled behind her. Stretching his legs out on either side of her hips, he pulled her snugly back against his chest. Guiding her arms upward until she had looped them around his neck, he skated his hands down her length, drew her hips back until his sex was nestled against her buttocks and then returned his attention to her breasts, cupping and kneading each before he caught the aching tips between his fingers and pinched them lightly, pulling at them until they stood tightly, achingly erect.

Wondering at the strange mood he seemed to be in, struggling against the impatience threatening to get the best of her, she dropped her head back against his hard shoulder, studying his taut profile beneath half closed lids.

Hands settled on her ankles, drawing her attention instantly away from Legion and she angled her head to look down at Zavier even as he drew her ankles apart and leaned down to nibble along first one calf and then the other, sending tingling waves of sensation racing up her legs to the apex.

Her sex quaked in expectation as his goal instantly leapt into her mind, and yet the anticipation and doubt that remained tightened her chest until she could barely breathe as she watched his slow, thorough advancement of exploration, felt the nip of his teeth. He pushed her legs wider as he progressed until she could feel the strain of muscles and tendons along her inner thighs. The muscles of her inner thighs quivered in expectation as he lowered his head toward one thigh.

Goosebumps erupted all over her as he opened his mouth and sucked at a patch of the exquisitely sensitive flesh there. She tensed, uncertain if she could endure the intensity of the sensations, instinctively trying to clamp her thighs together. Legion ceased to pluck at her nipples almost before the impulse had traveled to her brain and grasped her legs just beneath her knees. Drawing them upward, he pulled them wide and held her legs in a firm grip, so wide she could feel the moist, clinging petals of her sex unfurl, part, could feel the cool caress of air on the sensitive skin. She glanced up at his face sharply, her heart hammering almost painfully in her chest. “I don’t …,” she whispered hoarsely, but she didn’t manage to get the rest of the thought out.

Zavier’s mouth felt like a firebrand as it opened over her clit. She sucked in a harsh breath, squeezing her eyes closed, bucking against the avalanche of fiery sensation that closed over her the moment his mouth did and she felt the faintly rough texture of his tongue stroking her clit. Legion’s hands tightened on her, holding her still, preventing her from evading the excruciating suction of Zavier’s mouth. As mindless as she was, as conflicted as to whether she most wanted to feel his touch or evade it, she reached instinctively to catch Zavier’s head and push him away. Legion caught her wrists, as well, forcing her to focus her struggle inward, but that was less helpful. The moment she completely focused on the tug of Zavier’s mouth on that sensitive bud she nearly came. She fought it with no clear idea why. Within minutes she was so feverish and drunk with need she hardly knew where she was.

“Legion!” she gasped a little frantically when Zavier finally ceased to torment the bud of flesh and focused his attention upon the mouth of her sex, thrusting his tongue in and out of her channel rhythmically, delving deeper than she would’ve thought possible. The rough stroke of his tongue along the blood engorged walls of her sex was maddening. She squirmed ineffectually. “What …?”

He nuzzled his face almost apologetically along hers, nibbling kisses along the side of her face and neck. “Hush, beloved. We must bring your body to fullness to receive us in order to complete the cycle.”

Nothing he said made any sense at all in that moment. He might as well have spoken in his own language. She licked her dry lips, twisting her head against his shoulder as she felt the fire in her belly rise higher, discovered almost with a sense of horror that she couldn’t come the moment she gave up fighting and began to struggle to attain it. She wanted, needed penetration.

“You will have it, beloved, when we’ve readied you for us,” Legion murmured against her throat as if she’d spoken aloud. Shifting her weight to one arm, he leaned over her, catching the taut peak of one breast lightly between his teeth. As light as his touch was, in sent hard electric jolts through her that made her cry out. Her womb spasmed painfully. She jerked again, this time completely involuntarily.

Curling his tongue around the nipple he’d captured, Legion began to pull on it rhythmically with his mouth even as Zavier at last ceased to tongue fuck her. She realized a split second of relief before she felt his mouth latch onto her clit and pull on it almost in sync with Legion. Darkness and stinging sensation all over body assaulted her at the same time, preventing her from reaching the nothingness beckoning to her.

The rhythmic pull of their mouths on her drove her to the edge of madness. She felt as if she was on fire, couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t move, either to seek more or to evade their touch and she wasn’t certain from one moment to the next which she most wanted. Her body reached a surfeit of the pleasure she could stand and found no release.

She writhed feverishly, mindlessly, felt as if she was floating on a molten pool.

She felt the urge to weep when they finally stopped, leaving her body on fire for a release she hadn’t been given. She shivered as Legion eased his hold on her and moved from behind her, settling her gently on the mattress. Curling into a ball, she was only vaguely aware of their movements around her until she felt hands on her shoulders again and realized the two had switched places. She groaned piteously as Zavier positioned her as Legion had, prying her eyelids up to look down at Legion through her fevered gaze.

She’d thought she might have passed beyond feeling anything at all, but she discovered she was wrong. The moment Legion plucked at her clit it felt as if her heart stopped. She arched her head back against Zavier’s shoulder, straining to free herself from torment. He nuzzled her neck. “Only a little more, minotez, and I will give you surcease. We will complete the mating rite. I will join my body with yours, give you my seed, and you will in truth be my beloved mate, my minotez.”

A vague sense of alarm filtered through the heated fog of her shattered mind, but she couldn’t grasp it. She couldn’t think at all between the painful spasms wracking her womb and the torturous pleasure pelting her from every direction as Legion tugged mercilessly at her clit. She sucked in a quick breath as he shifted downward as Zavier had and lost it when he drove his tongue inside of her.

A flicker of hope came to life as she felt the heated glide of his tongue and the muscles along her channel responded by clenching around him. It died when the muscles only quaked and fiery sensation filled her belly and then rose again when Zavier shifted her to one arm as Legion had and leaned down to suckle her breast. She nearly blacked out when he caught the opposite nipple between his teeth, discovering the nipple that Legion had neglected had grown more and more sensitive with the heated pulse of blood. She bucked and thrashed against them—to no avail. They continued the heated, exquisitely painful/pleasurable tugging at her sensitive flesh until she was barely conscious, weeping.

She was so sensitive all over she could barely endure the lightest touch when they finally stopped and she could drag in a decent breath of air, but the respite was brief.

She groaned when she discovered they’d changed positions again, trying to clamp her thighs together when she felt Zavier’s hands settle on her knees. She was too weak to defend herself, however, and lost all interest in doing so, in any case, the moment he settled over her and she felt the pressure of his cock against the mouth of her sex.

She spread her legs wide then, lifting to meet him, desperate to feel the surcease he’d promised her. He curled over her, seeking her mouth, kissing her with a feverish need that matched hers as he curled his hips and plowed along the clinging flesh of her sex. The muscles, tightly clenched in want for what seemed like hours, yielded with great reluctance that was almost as painful as it was pleasurable. She didn’t care. She ached for the lack of his turgid flesh within the folds of hers. They struggled together to attain the deep penetration they both wanted with desperation. She dug her fingers into his back mindlessly, countering each thrust until he was buried to the hilt inside of her.

Pausing briefly to suck in a ragged breath of triumph, Zavier began to pump into her as mindlessly as she moved in counter, pounding in and out of her almost painfully deep and hard.

She welcomed it with wild, reckless abandon, uttering a sharp cry when the climax that her body had withheld from her so long broke over her, riding it until Zavier shuddered and uttered a choked groan, spilling his hot seed inside of her.

An overwhelming sense of abandonment closed over her the moment he withdrew, however, because, despite the shattering climax, she still ached as if she’d never felt the fulfillment of release. Legion took his place. Falling upon her as Zavier had, with ravening need, he impaled her with his swollen shaft, drove into her in pounding thrusts that jolted her all over. She screamed hoarsely when her body exploded the second time, bucking awkwardly against him with the hard convulsions wracking her.

“Beloved,” he growled gutturally, driving deeply and holding himself there as his body jerked and fountained his seed inside of her.

She dragged in a shaky breath of relief as the spasms receded, but discovered with considerable dismay that the ache inside of her only began to throb again the moment he pulled his flesh from hers and moved away.

Groaning, she tried to curl into a ball, hoping the ache would go away. Zavier pushed her thighs apart and mounted her again, driving into her almost more frenziedly than he had the first time. She climaxed almost before he’d completed the second stroke and then her body coiled toward another release. They reached the pinnacle almost in the same moment, clinging to each other frantically as the paroxysms wracked them.

Legion dragged her up and astride his lap the moment Zavier rolled off of her, catching her hips and spearing her with his cock. She wilted against him limply, too spent even to help him, but she discovered he didn’t have need of it. Grasping her hips he lifted and drove her down over his engorged flesh over and over until she screamed hoarsely in climax, felt his cock jerk within her, bathing her in his heated seed.

She thought she couldn’t take any more, didn’t want any more, but the moment Zavier dragged her from Legion’s lap and impaled her on his own turgid flesh, the heat was on her again. He didn’t turn her to face him, but mounted her on his shaft from behind. As if Zavier was offering her breasts, Legion leaned down to pull at first one and then the other with his mouth, sending her almost instantly into another cataclysmic release.

She sprawled limply face down on the mattress when Zavier released her, struggling to catch her breath. She knew the moment she felt hands grasping her hips and lifting her hips that it was Legion despite the fact that she’d lost count of the times they’d coupled. She groaned with a mixture of need and reluctance when he entered her.

She was going to die, she thought dimly, if she had another climax approaching the one she’d just had.

She didn’t, but she blacked out. Legion and Zavier were coiled around her when she surfaced toward consciousness again, both breathing raggedly enough she realized she couldn’t have been out more than a moment or two. With reluctance, she searched for the heat that had seemed unquenchable and discovered with vast relief that it had finally been assuaged. Barely conscious, she lay sandwiched between them limply, enjoying the stroke of their hands over her quivering flesh, the light brush of their lips.

“It stopped,” she muttered, more to herself than them, trying to figure out what had happened.

“The binding is done, my beloved,” Legion murmured against her shoulder, alerting her to the fact that it was him behind her.

Binding?

Zavier kissed her forehead. “Minotez,” he whispered raggedly, “beloved mate of my heart. We are joined—heart, mind, soul—in flesh.”

A thrill went through her at his words, and Legion’s, at the sweetness of their touch, but a touch of uneasiness threaded through her, as well. Discovering she was too exhausted to examine it, she gave up and fell into the abyss that was tugging at her.

Chapter Fourteen

A delightful sense of wellbeing threaded her veins as Anya roused toward wakefulness. It vanished the moment she stretched luxuriously and felt seemingly every muscle in her body—and some things that weren’t muscles—scream in protest. “Oh my god,” she groaned. “I feel like I was run over by a truck.”

A husky chuckle greeted that comment.

When she opened her eyes she discovered she was lying flat of her back and that Legion and Zavier were lying on their sides facing her, supporting their heads with one hand and looking like matched bookends.

Almost like matched bookends, she corrected. Zavier was readily identifiable by his black eye.

They both looked supremely satisfied with themselves and she searched her mind for the reason behind it. It was a short search. Heated visions of the night before instantly flooded her mind, and also explained why she felt like someone had tried to tie her into a bow. A mixture of amusement and irritation followed the memories. “What was that all about?” she murmured, lifting a hand to stroke both men’s cheek at the same time, just to assure them that she wasn’t really mad—she ached all over, but she still felt glorious.

Their brows twitched together—in sync—and then they exchanged a strange look with one another.

Legion settled a heavy hand on her belly. “You do not recall, beloved?” he asked huskily.

She stifled another yawn, attempted another stretch and winced. “Not very clearly, actually. Well … very clearly in some respects,” she amended, then frowned, probing her memory.

“It was a little weird, actually. I was so … insatiable. I don’t remember ever feeling like that before. You didn’t spike my drink with anything last night, did you?” she asked them jokingly.

When they merely looked at her blankly, she elaborated. “Drugs? Aphrodisiacs?”

Their brows cleared magically. Amusement gleamed in both men’s eyes. “It is the mating rite,” Zavier explained. “To summon the fruitfulness requires stimulation. It was only the natural drugs your body produces.”

“Wait!” Anya exclaimed, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “What do you mean by fruitfulness? What do you mean by ‘natural drugs’? Are you saying …? Are you telling me you …?”

Zavier’s hand settled on her belly beside Legion’s. “We joined here—flesh to flesh. I gave you my son to nurture in your womb … as did Legion. We completed the mating rite.”

Anya gaped at him in dawning dismay and then looked at Legion, struggling with the possibility that they might be serious and not joking. They didn’t look like they were joking. “You can’t do that … can you?” she asked hoarsely.

“We did,” Legion confirmed, spearing his fingers in her hair and dragging her close for a kiss that scattered her wits—further. “You please me, beloved. It pleases me to know my son nestles here, to know that I will see him suckling at your breast.”

Anya didn’t manage much more than a gasp of breath to protest before Zavier dragged her close for a kiss. “As I am infinitely pleased,” he murmured. “We must see what we can do to improve the comfort of the ‘nest’ for the mother of our sons and the sons when they come. You will not mind if we use the beziartre for that?”

Anya stared at him stupidly, completely unable to grasp half of what he’d said for the word ‘sons’ that kept drumming in her head. “I have to go to the bathroom!” she said abruptly, scrambling to her feet. “Alone!”

Covering her face with her hands when she’d flopped on the toilet, she struggled to thread her way past the shock and comprehend the incomprehensible. The ache ‘below’ completely diverted her, however. Spreading her legs, she looked down at her poor, abused, red, swollen pussy. It wasn’t just the flesh that ached, either. The tendons between her legs hurt and so did her pubic bones from the vigorous bumping and grinding they’d been doing half the night.

When she’d finally managed to coax her bladder into letting go, she hobbled to the shower and turned it on, brushing her teeth while she waited for the water to reach a comfortable temperature.

The mundane chores soothed her, helped her find her equilibrium, but she discovered she wasn’t any closer to accepting what they’d told her. Despite what she knew they were capable of, she still couldn’t comprehend that they’d—somehow—coaxed her body into her fertility cycle—enhanced it if they were to be believed—and then spent half the night making sure they fertilized the two eggs they’d coaxed from her.

That had to be what they’d meant! They wouldn’t have just thought it would happen because it would be convenient to their plans. They had made it happen!

In a way, it was completely believable. She distinctly recalled that she’d felt insatiable and that certainly wasn’t ‘natural’ for her!

She supposed after a time that she actually did believe or she wouldn’t be in a state of shock.

The hot shower took some of the ache from her muscles and joints, but certainly not all of it. Dressing was still an exercise in torture. She didn’t see any sign of either of the men when she left the room and headed into the kitchen, but she was only peripherally aware of that fact. She was still more focused on what had happened the night before than anything else. Going over and over it in her mind while she was burning breakfast, she finally managed to recall some of the things they’d said to her.

She couldn’t accuse them of not telling her what they had in mind, she realized angrily.

Of course, by that time, she’d been in no condition to object. She thought if they hadn’t willingly mounted her over and over again, that she might have been desperate enough to try to hold them down and rape them. In made her shudder all over in after-quakes just remembering how she’d felt.

It was unnerving to think they could make her feel like that as easily as they could slake her desires.

Discovering that Legion and Zavier had ‘appeared’ to eat when she turned away from the stove with the burnt offerings, she plunked the skillet down on the table between them instead of heading to the garbage with it, and wandered out of the room again. After moving restlessly from one room to another for a while without actually accomplishing anything except walking off some of her soreness, she left the house and wandered across the pasture to the tree where Legion and Zavier had made love to her the first night.

She’d thought that was a test of endurance! Little did she know!

Settling with her back against the tree, she stared blankly at the scenery, her thoughts completely focused inward. After a while, her focus shifted from the ‘mating rites’, as Zavier had called the night of wild sex, to the results they’d been so happy about.

Despite everything, warmth filled her when she remembered the way they’d touched her, looked at her, the things they’d said. They were delighted to think of their sons growing in her womb, not just pleased with themselves, or just sexually sated, but happy. She’d seen it in their eyes.

Dragging in a shaky breath, she looked down her stomach, remembering the possessive pride in them when they’d settled their palms on her belly above the womb that held their sons. Unbidden, images filled her mind of the two young children Zavier had shown her and then morphed into infants, cuddled to her breast—breasts! How was she going to manage two?

Maybe she shouldn’t have told them how exciting the idea of having twins was, she thought ruefully?

Had they taken that as consent on her part? Or had they already planned it anyway?

She knew they’d planned it all along. Legion had told her almost from the first that he’d decided she was the one he wanted as his mate. Zavier had even mentioned the mating rite!

She didn’t know how long she sat beneath the tree wavering back and forth between fear and shock and tentative excitement when she noticed that Legion and Zavier had come to stand nearby and were watching her. Hours, she felt certain, if the numbness of her butt was any indication.

When she finally acknowledged their presence, though, they approached her and dropped down on either side of her. Legion lifted her hand after a few moments, toying idly with her fingers. “Is it the custom of your people for the female to withdraw from the males after the mating rites?” he asked, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

She met his gaze, wondering for a moment what he was talking about. She saw doubt flicker in his eyes, though, uneasiness. She saw the same in Zavier’s eyes when she turned her head to look at him.

She thought about telling them that she was trying to come to terms with what had happened, but she realized abruptly that they needed reassurance. Whatever her feelings on the subject—and she still wasn’t entirely sure—they needed her to tell them that she’d accepted them.

Because they loved her, she realized suddenly. Despite the many times they had gazed at her with warmth in their eyes and called her beloved—minotez—she’d dismissed it as nothing more than a meaningless expression of endearment. It wasn’t meaningless, though. They meant it. She would’ve realized it earlier if she hadn’t been trying so hard to keep her heart out of their reach.

“I was thinking,” she said finally.

Zavier lifted a hand to her cheek. “Of what, minotez?”

She covered his hand with her own and then curled her fingers around his hand and carried it to her belly, doing the same with the hand that Legion held. “How can you stay after … after what happened in the city? I’ve been so afraid they’d come. They will, you know. I wasn’t exaggerating the danger.”

Looking relieved, they settled closer. “I told you we took care of that, beloved,” Legion said almost chidingly. “We are slow to learn at times, but we do learn. We took the memory of it from them when we had repaired the damage.”

Anya sucked in a sharp breath, hardly daring to accept the tentative unfurling of hope within her. “You didn’t tell me that!”

Zavier shrugged. “We thought you might not like that we had, so we did not.”

Anya felt a swelling of warmth inside of her that made her breathless with the possibilities clamoring in her mind. Remembering the chaos the city had been in when she left, though, she struggled to reconcile what they’d told her with what she’d seen. “It’s like it never happened then?” she asked a little doubtfully.

This time Legion shrugged. His lips twisted wryly. “Unfortunately, not entirely. We were already too weakened from our battle to do what we might have otherwise. We only reversed time to the beginning of the battle … before there was very much damage or any that were injured. Although, in truth, your military did a great deal of damage themselves.”

Absorbing that, Anya settled her head on Legion’s shoulder, struggling with tears of doubt and relief. “You don’t have to leave?”

“We would not—not without you, beloved.”

Anya closed her eyes, allowing herself to absorb that and truly believe. “I love you, Legion.”

She drew back and met his gaze for a moment, and then leaned in to kiss him before she turned to Zavier. Catching his face between her palms, she kissed him, as well. “I love you, too, Zavier.”

He grinned at her. “You will have to tell me first next time,” he said teasingly.

They settled beside her companionably, shoulder to shoulder with her, and stared speculatively at the old farm house. “There is no part of it that is really big enough,” Zavier said after a few moments. “We will have to expand it all.”

“Oh! We can’t begin knocking out walls!” Anya exclaimed. “The boys will each need a room of their own—at least when they get a little older—and there are only the three bedrooms.”

Zavier and Legion exchanged a look above her head. “He said expand, beloved,” Legion murmured near her ear.

Anya looked at him. “I’m not sure I’ll ever really get used to the things you two do.”

“The boys will help you grow accustomed,” Zavier said, chuckling.

“Oh god! They’ll be like you two!” she exclaimed, more than a little dismayed at the thought.

They both looked at her with raised brows.

“Which will be wonderful!” she added. “But unnerving, too.”

They dragged her down onto the lush grass between them. “You will grow accustomed,” Legion assured her, “to being surrounded by comptz, for now there are four.”

* * * *

“Four,” Zavier said, obviously both awed and unnerved as he studied the four wriggling bundles on the bed.

Anya lifted her head wearily and stared at the infants with a sense of misgiving, regretting the fact that she’d forbidden them to ‘introduce’ themselves to their sons before she could. If she hadn’t been so insistent on enjoying the anticipation of their arrival, they would’ve known long since that they were going to get a much bigger surprise than any of them had expected. On the other hand, it wouldn’t have changed anything, she supposed, since the ‘deed’ had been done the night they were conceived. “When you said four,” she told Legion crossly, “I thought you meant including the two of you!”

He looked at her uncomfortably. “I did mean … they are twins. I could not have anticipated that … dearest.”

She glared at him, but despite the fact that they’d helped her with the births, easing her pain to a level of mild discomfort, she was too exhausted from giving birth to put much of a punch behind it. “Well, as long as you both realize that you’re going to be as busy tending them as I am, we’ll muddle along I suppose,” she said sleepily. “It’s a good thing you both have that handy little beziartre. It’s worked very well in discouraging the military from nosing around all this time. I’m sure rearing four comptz infants will be a breeze.”

Legion and Zavier exchanged a panicked glance, but then firmly tamped it. Scooping up a pair of infants, they carried them to the nursery and returned for the other two.

When they had settled the four in the two cribs, they stayed for a while admiring their handiwork, struggling with a mixture of pride and uneasiness. “Mine have the look of our mother,” Zavier said after a while.

Feeling an abrupt jolt of alarm, Legion straightened and moved to stare at them. “You are right.” He frowned. “Mayhap we should place a field around them and separate them from anything flammable? Mother was particularly gifted with fire.”

Zavier paled slightly. “Good thinking! And, perhaps, since yours have the look of our father, a shield to keep them where they are? We do not want them wandering about without the bodies.”

“Anya would not like that,” Legion agreed uneasily. “It is just as well. They are tiny and weak now. They will need a good deal sustenance. We will check again in a little while and see how much they have drawn from the fields and then we will have a better idea of their strength and needs.

“In any case, Anya is weakened from her trials. She will need the rest to regain her strength.”

She was asleep when they returned to the room they shared, but since she had been heavy with child for months and they had not shared a bed with her in all that time, they decided to join her.

She woke, staring at them without recognition for a moment. “The babies are alright?”

“Sleeping,” Legion said promptly, nuzzling his face along her neck. “I am proud of my sons, beloved.”

Anya managed a smile and looked at Zavier expectantly. He grinned at her. “You know that I am as proud of mine as I can be.”

Relieved, she snuggled between them. “I’m glad we decided to mate,” she murmured sleepily.

“I am glad we convinced you, beloved,” Legion murmured, laughter threading his voice.

“Had we realized we needed only you to begin our own tribe, we would have started sooner,” Zavier added with a chuckle.

Anya opened her eyes long enough to give him a look. “They aren’t a tribe. They’re a family … we’re a family.”

“We are, minotez, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for mothering the new comptz. I knew the moment I found you that I had finally come home. I just did not realize how truly extraordinary you were or that you would single-handedly resurrect the comptz race.”

Anya uttered a snort of disbelief. “You don’t fool me, Zavier! You and Legion both think you did it all by yourself!”

“Untrue, my beloved,” Legion murmured in a shaky voice. “We have learned a great deal of humility. We know very well that we only had a very small part in producing such wonderful beings.”

Anya smiled without opening her eyes. “As long as you know your place,” she said teasingly.

“We do, minotez,” Zavier assured her, lifting her hand to kiss her fingers. “By your side.”

The End