SatinSpar

Chapter One

Following him wasn’t ethical. She knew that. But Scar had long ago given up thinking ethical thoughts about Antony Tyler. She’d stopped the minute her employer’s new bodyguard had introduced himself, wrapping his strong fingers around hers, the hint of a smile lifting his perfectly lush mouth. From that moment, she’d become a woman on a mission. She had to see him naked.

Scar sucked in a breath, ignoring the flare of heat low in her belly. Damn it. Everything about the man had her body in rebellion. And that wasn’t a good idea when she was stalking him. Her target paused, the soft light from the ship’s gangway splashing over his shoulders. Scar shrank back against the wall, her palms pressed against the warm metal, and took slow, controlled breaths.

From the hard, suspicious looks he’d been giving her over the past few days, he had to know she’d taken to stalking him. His dislike of her was understandable. She was too alien for most people, with her stained skin and, well, her short, stubby tail. That freaked most of the pure-human population, too used to seeing her alien features as the enemy.

Tyler’s dark head tilted to the side, no doubt listening for her. Her gut cramped and she tried to feel guilt for her obsession. But she couldn’t as her gaze wandered down his lean body, over the well-cut suit their employer had bought him and she tried not to imagine him stripped naked. She failed. Her all-too-vivid imagination conjured up lithe muscles, allied with strength and agility. Rochester said Tyler used to be in the Federal Army Corps. She almost groaned at the thought that she would find battle scars, the mark of a warrior, branding his skin.

Her fingers curled into tight fists.

She cursed her Caraniae half, her father’s contribution burning a wildness through her that she often couldn’t contain. Something in Tyler called to that wildness even though he was a pure-blood human. She knew he was pure. He’d been in the Corps. Any hint of non-human DNA and he’d be gone, drummed out and disgraced. She’d performed the test anyway, with sloughed skin and a hair tag. Tyler was thoroughly, stinkingly human.

She ran a hand through the wild tangle of her hair, her fingers fisting. She’d never burned like this for a human, her skin hardly her own, her thoughts consumed. Shit, she’d never had such an overwhelming rush of lust for anyone before.

No, where Tyler was concerned, nothing made sense.

He smoothed his hand over his dark hair and, in the silence of the gangway, she heard him expel a heavy breath. Rolling his shoulders, he straightened and continued his slow, easy stride down the dim corridor.

He probably sensed her. Yes, trailing him wasn’t the sanest idea she’d ever had. But she couldn’t help it. For a moment, Scar closed her eyes, denying herself the image of him. Tyler had wormed under her skin like no other man and she couldn’t explain it. The soft hiss and then the groan of an opening door forced her to focus. He was gone, the corridor empty, but the soft red blip of the “chamber in use” signal stretching across the wall ahead of her spiked her pulse.

Finally, finally, he’d decided to use the exercise chamber. She needed to see if the muscled sleekness searing through her imagination hid beneath his new conservative suits. Her Caraniae half would be disgusted if he proved to be a weakling, a man unable to defend himself without high-tech weaponry. She half-hoped for that. Then her obsession would fade and she could settle happily back into her old life of being Rochester’s pilot.

Scar snorted and pushed herself away from the wall. “Yes, and then I can stop being the crazy woman on the ship.”

Her hand hovered over the doorplate, her palm itching as she waited. She wanted to give him time to set up, to warm up to the fight. She didn’t want him to be aware of her.

She flexed her fingers. Scar knew what she would find on the other side of the heavy, black door, and it would be almost as good as seeing him naked—for her Caraniae half anyway. Tyler would be armoured up in sentient-wear, a human brain at the centre of so much clunking metal, simply content to blast other mechanoid beasts. A smile pulled at her mouth and she could almost taste her disdain, and with it, relief. Tyler was such a bad idea.

That knowledge didn’t stop her from pressing the doorplate and a warm flush spread over her skin. The door groaned and slid back into the bulkhead. Beyond was darkness. All right, not what she was expecting. She slipped into the chamber, silent, quick, keeping to the familiar smooth walls, her spine and palms guiding her. There was no hint of metal and grease in the air. It had her heart thudding and need fired through her flesh. The tip of her tail twitched. Shit. Bad sign.

A single light flashed, shining stark, white light into the centre of a sand-thick arena. So, Tyler had brought his own training simulations…and she had to admit she was curious. Something moved in the shadows lying thick beyond the sharp beam of light. She could sense it, smell it. Scar almost growled at the sweet scent of adrenalin, but she clamped her hand to her mouth and waited, hidden by the darkness that also obscured Tyler’s opponent.

With a battle-roar, a Zacetian leapt into the bright light. A monstrous creature with a tough, jagged exoskeleton and rows of razor-sharp teeth, it dripped saliva from its gaping mouth. The faint hiss of acid burning as it hit the bleached sand filled the sudden silence.

Her fingers dug tight into her jaw. What the hell? Fire tore through her veins and her Caraniae genes screamed for her to kill her ancient blood-enemy—but then Tyler stepped into the shot of light.

Scar stared. Stared and her blood surged for another reason.

He stood naked. Light slid over smooth, tight muscles oiled with sweat. The same light caught on the gleaming sai he held in each corded fist. Fury burned in his pale eyes and he was…grinning.

Scar wanted to kill the Zacetian. Kill it so that she could fuck Tyler in the heat of its dying blood.

The thought shocked her and she shrank back against the wall of the chamber. Why couldn’t he train using a simple mechanoid target program? Why…why this?

He circled the Zacetian and his fluid grace, the beauty of his lithe body had her short, blunt tail curling, curling in a slow twist between her legs. Scar’s flesh ached and her faithful prehensile tail pressed hard through the fabric of her bulky flight suit.

Light washed over old, silvered scars that laced Tyler’s back all the way down to his tailbone. The clustered patterns looked oddly…familiar. And it wasn’t fair. Scarring? He did have the signs of a warrior. Scar bit her knuckles, holding back a soft groan. The scent of her arousal drifted through the filtered air, but she didn’t care. Not then. She squeezed her thighs, shifting her blunt tail so that it ground against her clitoris.

Liquid heat surged up her body and Scar arched her spine against the relentless push of her tail. Tyler’s fists tightened around the hilts of his three-bladed sai, his muscles shifting as he still circled the snarling Zacetian. Scar’s breath caught, her blood pounding for release. He was going to—

Tyler leapt, a war cry tearing from his throat.

In a movement that speed blurred, the sai punctured the fleshy pouches on either side of the creature’s solid skull. The beast screamed.

Orgasm tore through Scar, pulsing, burning wave after wave of intense pleasure though her flesh. Her head fell back against the wall, and she swallowed, her throat dry, raw. She willed herself to stay standing, to watch as her blood-enemy dropped to the bleached sand.

Tyler stood over his kill and retrieved his sai. He pointed them up, blood running down the central blades and slipping in slow rivulets over his skin. Then he kissed each blade and the staining blood of his slain enemy glistened on his lips.

Scar’s heart was in her throat and her blood pulsed again for him. Did he know what he was doing? What his actions meant? It was the salute of a warrior who would claim his mate. Everything screamed at her to stay. Her Caraniae half didn’t care that it was a simulation, that there would be no sharing of their enemy’s blood. It wanted Tyler. Wanted to fuck him till he screamed.

Shit. She had to get away before she did something completely insane…like wrestle him to the sandy floor and fuck him. That image burned… No. That could not happen. Not for her.

Scar staggered back and found the door that opened onto the gangway. Sterile air washed over her, driving out her own scent mixed with the wildness of blood, sweat and adrenalin. She slumped against the wall and crushed her eyes shut. Damn him! Who the hell was this Tyler? Had he gone native in the war against the Caraniae?

The image of him burned through her thoughts. She should’ve stayed. Stayed and celebrated the death of her ancient blood-enemy. She could still see Tyler’s smooth muscles oiled with sweat as he stood back and grinned at his kill. She wanted him to lift his head and breathe her scent deep into his lungs. Pale eyes would have found her in the darkness then, found her and—

“And nothing,” she growled at herself. “He’s human. I’m not. End of story.” But there was more to it than that. Being even half Caraniae came with complications.

She winced. Her arousal scent for one. Its musky sweetness still lingered in the cool, sterile air. The Caraniae arousal scent was dangerous even to humans…or so she’d heard. She hadn’t tested that theory.

Scar ignored the twist of her stomach as her old fear rose. There was a remote possibility the bond would fix on him. Maybe with Tyler there was little chance of a proper, permanent bond forming, of his branding her. Maybe…but she couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t be tied to one man for the rest of her life—the image of Tyler rose again, everything a warrior should be— No. Not even to him.

Scar pushed herself away from the wall. It was pointless to dwell on what she wanted from Tyler—she would never get it.

“Scar, where are you?” Iain Rochester’s clipped voice echoed around the dim corridor via the comms system. “We have the authorisation to move into a lower orbit for the cargo transfer.”

Her fingers touched the sliver of tech running the length of the bulkhead. Shit. Was it that time already? Now he’d go from reasonable and sane to bitchy. “Understood, Rochester. I’ll be there in five. Or less.” She didn’t wait for his acknowledgment, but broke into a sprint, eating up the distance to the cockpit. The fast pace stretched her muscles and, for a few precious minutes, burned thoughts of Tyler from her brain. It was a relief.

She burst into the main cabin and found Rochester pacing before the heavy couches lining one wall. He stopped and gave her a withering look as he smoothed a hand over his short, blond hair. “Enjoy your run?”

Scar ignored his sarcasm. “Go strap in. I can’t promise it’ll be a smooth descent.” She stared at the curve of the ceiling. “Even in this ship.”

He grumbled something and stalked away to sink onto the heavy couch. The soft hiss of securing straps and the clunk of locks rose above his muttered complaints. Scar gave him a short smile and disappeared into the cockpit. Rochester was a perfectionist, wanting everything done his way, and precisely when he dictated. If he didn’t get it, there was usually hell to pay. Thankfully, she stayed on Rochester’s good side. Most of the time.

The door slid shut behind her and she let out a sigh. Rochester might be a pain in the arse from time to time, but working for him was much easier than her old life.

Scar sank into the thick leather of her pilot’s chair, letting it cushion her body. The straps snaked over her shoulders and linked across her waist, the fabric stretching to bind her legs. She swept her hands over the organic console, feeling the rush of life through her fingers and spreading through her flesh.

The white curve of the planet’s southern pole filled the top shield. Her gaze followed the edge of the frozen cap, finding the twist of thin clouds and green-blue water surging around the tip of the smaller of the two continents. She followed the swirling path of a fierce storm brewing over the southern ocean. It had her blood thrumming.

No, she couldn’t have Tyler, but flying came a close second.

“This is Cruiser Ioannos, Registration seven-three-nine-nine-zero out of Acamar-Prime, requesting clearance to drop to low global orbit. Please respond.”

There was silence. Maybe Rochester had overestimated his welcome.

“Cruiser Ioannos, this is Alpha-Columbae-3’s Polar Tower. Please transfer your guidance control to our systems to begin your descent.”

“Acknowledged, Polar Tower.”

Scar cursed under her breath. Damn over-efficient planet. She wanted the rush of flying, it would satisfy the need she had to throw Tyler on his back and ravish him. Now flying would be denied her too. She sighed and locked the controls, lifting her hands away from the surging console.

She pinched at the bridge of her nose. Damn it, she had to tell Tyler the ship was on automatic, for his own safety. She jabbed her finger against the intercom above her head and pulled in a tight breath. “Tyler.” She held down a groan. Her voice was little more than a squeak. Scar cleared her throat and tried again. “Tyler. Strap in. Guidance has the ship.”

There was a short pause. “Understood.”

Scar crushed her eyes against the sound of his voice. He was out of breath and she knew exactly what he was doing. Letting out a soft curse, she cut the connection and fell back into the chair…

…just as the cruiser dropped and her stomach hit the roof of her mouth. She groaned. It was fortunate she’d told Rochester and Tyler to strap in. Computers had no skill and no consideration for ships’ passengers.

She pressed the intercom. “Don’t moan at me. I’m not in control—”

“Incoming Recorded Message,” the softly computerised voice broke in. “Will you accept?”

“What’s its origin?”

“Beta-Ursae-7.”

A shiver ran over Scar’s skin. Beta-Ursae-7. Her home planet. It could only mean one person. Scar closed her eyes. “I accept the message.”

“Sheehan, it’s your mother…”

“Scar,” she muttered. “I’ve been Scar since I was fourteen, Mother. Worn it with pride.”

“…I have some news from your father.”

There was a pause and Scar knew why. Her father had left them both when she was only three weeks old. He couldn’t bear the stigma of having a half-human child. But there was something in her mother’s voice that worked under Scar’s skin. Whatever the news was, it wasn’t good.

“With the end of the war, he’s proven himself to his peers and no longer has to worry about bearing the shame of his child.” Her mother’s tone was sarcastic. Scar agreed with her. “And under clan law, law that’s now ratified by our governments too, he’s asserted his rights.”

Scar frowned. What the hell was she talking about? Why didn’t she get to the point?

“He’s chosen you a mate.”

Scar stared at the console. What? Blood surged through her body, fury riding its wave. How dare he! What right had that hypocritical bastard to any part of her life? Where had he been as she’d tried to fit into human society with a stunted tail? When cruel children had nicknamed her Scar because of the marbled pattern of her skin. No, he’d been hiding from the shame of his daughter.

“Come home, Sheehan. The Caraniae have threatened to hunt you down if you don’t, and make you submit to their ceremony. We both know this isn’t an idle threat.” There was a soft sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Transmission ended,” murmured the computer.

Scar tugged at the straps, freeing herself from her chair. The cockpit door opened before her and she strode across the passenger cabin.

“Scar?” Rochester pulled at his restraints and stood. “Where are you going?”

“Get Tyler to pilot.” Scar didn’t look back. She needed to get to the exercise room and run Tyler’s Zacetian program. She needed to kill something before the boiling fury burning through her veins sent her insane. “And listen to the message from my mother. Reply and say yes.” She swiped her hand over the door control, willing it to open fast. “We have to leave. Now.”

The door opened before her and she ran.

Chapter Two

“So we’re just dropping the deal because Scar has to go home to meet her betrothed?” Tyler stared at his employer. His old friend had to have gone mad. “Are you serious?”

Iain Rochester frowned, his smooth brow creasing. A sharp glint appeared in his eyes and he pointed to the open cockpit. “Fly the ship, Tyler.”

The muscles in Tyler’s jaw tightened at the dismissal. He stopped himself from saluting. That was a habit he was glad to break. “You’re sure about this?”

Rochester rubbed at his chin. “Do you know who Scar’s stepfather is?”

“Her stepfather?” Tyler was already having a strange day, he didn’t need his employer being odd too. “Iain…?”

He waved Tyler into the cockpit and waited until he’d strapped in and authorised the leaving of Alpha-Columbae-3’s orbit. The cruiser fired and pulled free in a smooth turn. Rochester grabbed the edge of the door, bracing his body until the craft levelled. “Her mother married Oliver Myers.”

Tyler’s hands froze on the console. “He owns planets, Iain. Whole bloody systems.” He plotted the rest of the course to Beta-Ursae-7 on automatic. “Why is Scar here?”

Rochester laughed. “A grunt pilot for a disreputable businessman?”

Tyler’s mouth quirked upwards. “Your words, Iain, but yeah.”

“She likes to fly.” He patted the doorframe, turning away. “And it’s her ship. It’s a convenient illusion to let people think this monster could be mine.”

The cockpit door slid shut, leaving Tyler alone. He relaxed back into the chair and a soft laugh escaped him. Iain Rochester had always been a great liar, had lied his way out of the Corps fifteen years before. Lucky bastard. Rochester almost got him out too. Tyler’s family, military for more generations than was safely sane, had forced the Corps to keep him.

But his friend had kept his word. Now they could work together—

Damn, there was that scent again, the one that had haunted him since he’d signed on with Iain only a week before. Tyler scrubbed a hand over his face. It was everywhere. In the corridors, in his cabin, hell, it had even followed him into the exercise chamber. He groaned, and buried the heels of his hands in his eye sockets. That scent had burned within him and fired the need to glory in the death of his enemy, an act that made him doubt his sanity. The exercise chamber had simulated the blood of the Zacetian, so there’d been no taste, no texture…but somehow he could still feel it, wet and warm on his lips.

“You’re going crazy, Tyler.” He stared out into the deep blackness of space. It was better to go insane in the luxurious life Iain Rochester offered than in the grim brutality of the Corps. He locked off the controls, setting the system to alert. He freed himself from the straps and stared around the curve of the cockpit. So, all of this belonged to Scar. Maybe it was time to ingratiate himself. Forming any connection to a man as wealthy as Oliver Myers was a wise move. He winced. And he needed connections, since his family had disowned him.

The passenger cabin was empty; the heavy couches turned into the room, away from the long windows. Iain was no doubt in his office, smoothing over his sudden departure with some plausible lie. A wry smile pulled at Tyler’s mouth. Saying he’d had an urgent call from Beta-Ursae-7 would probably be enough to impress the pompous idiots with whom they’d dealt.

The door closed behind him and he stared down the long central gangway. Tracking lights edged the floor and spotted the curved ceiling. “Where’s Scar?”

“Pilot Scar is in the exercise chamber,” murmured the computer.

“Why am I not surprised?”

Earlier, as he’d responded to Rochester’s call, she’d stormed past him, her face flushed, curses scorching the air around her. He’d stood back and let the force of nature whirl by. Some days, he wasn’t crazy.

Tyler strode down the corridor. He knew the woman was half Caraniae. And that had been a shock. They’d only negotiated peace with the Caraniae six months before. He’d never met a hybrid. He winced. Her tail was still disturbing, but then tails on humanoids always made him balk. Scar’s was a blunt stump, better than the usual long Caraniae tail, barbed with spikes. He rubbed at his back out of habit. Her tail was better… Just.

The door to the exercise chamber groaned and opened to the ferocious clash and clang of echoing steel. He leaned against the doorframe and watched as Scar took on three armoured drones. She’d stripped down to her underwear, just shorts and a vest. Her unusual skin gleamed in the dim lights.

He had begun to wonder what lay under her unflatteringly padded flight-suits. Tyler smirked. Scar was very…flexible. He pulled his mind back from those thoughts and studied her fighting technique.

She was self-taught, that was obvious with her wild, untempered style, but she had skill. He winced as she hacked the bastard sword into the shoulder of an attacker, fire sparking as she ripped through the metal-organic innards.

Another met the same fate and, with a blurred rush, the last drone crashed to the turned sand. Scar thrust the sword hard into the floor, burying the blade deep. She sank to her knees and her head fell forward, obscuring her face with her wild tangle of dark hair.

“Nice work,” Tyler said, clapping slowly.

Scar’s head snapped up. Something flashed through her green eyes and his chest contracted. It looked like doubt…and then hunger. “What do you want?”

His mouth twisted. “Want to spar with someone you don’t need to kill? That’s a skill too.”

“So you’re trusting me not to kill you?”

He laughed. “I was a commander in the Federal Army Corps. I’m sure you’d try to kill me, Scar. Succeeding, that’s another matter.”

She pushed herself onto her feet, brushing her hair from her face. “They kicked you out, Tyler.” She smirked at him and it was a kick in his gut. Adrenalin surged. What the hell was going on? “For conduct unbecoming to an officer, I believe.”

His mouth thinned. “You investigated me?”

Scar edged around him and his skin prickled. Shifting his body was a reaction to the threat stalking him. Her eyes held him, bright, sharp. There was a brief parting of her lips and she growled. A slow, soft vibration of sound that shot straight down to his balls.

“You expect me to take Rochester’s word for anything?”

The words broke the sudden spell her growl had bound around his body. She was close, so close he could stretch out a hand and trace the curve of her hip. Tyler pushed that thought from his mind. “Very wise.”

“So, what did you do that was so incorrigible, Tyler? What put you in prison?”

Light washed over her and her green eyes sparked. In that moment, Tyler’s hand itched at the absence of a weapon. Her look was pure Caraniae. Predatory. Wicked. “I disobeyed orders.”

“Really?” She slid around him and he fought to stay still. “I thought that the Corps was all about orders.”

He held in a breath as her finger traced a slow slide up his spine. “And what would you know of it, Scar?”

Her fingers teased him and the scar at the base of his spine throbbed. What was she doing? Weren’t they supposed to be fighting? Her light touch circled the scar, burning through the thin material of his shirt. And how the hell did she know it was there? His hands curled into fists and he willed down his erection. He’d come to ingratiate himself, not to have sex with her. Hadn’t he? Right then, he had no idea what he was doing.

“What did they want you to do?”

The insistent pressure at the base of his spine had his blood on fire. Damn it. He grabbed her and in one fluid movement, threw her on her back into the sand. Air burst out of her lungs and he straddled her hips, leaning in close. He pinned her arms to the sand and pressed into the softness of her body. His words were no more than a growl. “Do you really want to know?”

Her face flushed, her mouth parting as her chest lifted in quick breaths. Green eyes gleamed. Yes, he’d turned her on. “Are we sparring now, Tyler?”

There was that scent again, wrapping around him, consuming him. He breathed it in, breathed her in. Her, the scent was Scar. “Yes.” His tongue tip traced the edge of her jaw. Scar shivered. Her wild pulse throbbed under his mouth and he ached with the need to bite, to mark her, to make her his. “Just not in the way I expected.”

“What do you plan to do, Tyler?”

Something twisted in her voice that he couldn’t name and it tightened his gut. Her warm breath brushed his cheek as he met her gaze. Need sparked there. He ground against her pelvic bone and blood rushed south when she pushed hard against him. This was wrong. So wrong. Sex with Caraniae females was a major breach of regulations…but he wasn’t in the Corps anymore. “What do you want me to do?”

She smiled that wicked Caraniae smile. Her strong thighs gripped him and before he knew exactly how, he was on his back. Surprise had worked his grip free and now she pinned his arms to the cool sand. “You disobeyed orders. How?”

“That’s not what I thought you’d ask.”

She smirked. “Satisfy my curiosity first.”

Time for the sanitised truth, the woman was half-Caraniae after all. “There was a suspected nest. We went in.” The Corps had ordered an atrocity at Vistern Ridge. With the end of the war, they’d buried that order and his career. Tyler pushed back the memories; they were a part of his old life. “I refused to authorise the clean up.”

“And that’s a euphemism for…?”

The muscles in his jaw tightened. “It’s not open for discussion.”

Scar leaned forward, pressing deliciously along his erection. Her mouth hovered over his, her lips almost touching. Just a simple tilt of his head would— “Want to discuss it now?”

“Why are you pressing this?”

“What? This?” And she shifted her hips in a slow slide that had him involuntarily thrusting up to meet her. “So…why are you here, Tyler?”

She was still asking him questions. Why the hell was she still asking him questions? “Scar…?”

“Rochester told you who my stepfather is, didn’t he?”

Tyler held down a curse. Sparring with her would’ve seemed natural. Throwing her on her back and offering her whatever she wanted…yes, didn’t he look obvious now? “He mentioned it in passing.”

Scar’s expression was unreadable as she sat up. The friction made him wince. His erection mocked him. “And you just thought you’d drop by, say hello, curry favour?” She wiggled and he sucked in a breath. “Offer me this?”

“That wasn’t planned.”

Her mouth twisted and there was a hardness to her eyes, hiding…what? He wanted to label it nerves, but that would be crazy.

“An unexpected bonus?”

“Scar…”

She leapt up with an unnatural agility and offered her hand. “Let me try not to kill you.”

Tyler grabbed her hand and she pulled him effortlessly to his feet. “Suddenly this is not a good idea.”

“Really?”

Tyler shucked off his jacket and threw it beyond the edge of the arena. His fingers moved to his shirt and stopped. What was he doing? A fight felt more real, more immediate to him when air brushed his skin. But now, that would be so very wrong. He kicked off his boots and pulled at his socks instead. His toes curled into the warming sand.

“Finished?” Scar lifted an eyebrow. “Can we fight now?”

“Impatient for me to beat you?”

She burst forward, but he stopped her attempt to grab him, blocking her with a palm-strike. Dropping, she tried to strike him. Another block. She swung around and struck out again. She was quick, fast and strong. It was fun to play with her—

“You’re grinning. Think this is funny?” She growled and his balls tightened.

He staggered at the kick to his shin. She leapt, crashing him to the sand, and ripped at his shirt. She nipped at his neck with her teeth and Tyler’s vision blurred. Blood raced south. Her scent burned through him and he tugged at her undershirt, the thin cotton tearing across her back.

“Ah, so that’s what you want to play.” Her lips brushed against his throat, searing the words into his skin.

His hands slid down her spine and found her tail curling tight around his right wrist. It squeezed hard. “Scar…” He couldn’t help the low, warning snarl. “This is not playing fair.”

She lifted her head and grinned at him. “I want to fight, not fuck, Tyler.”

She whipped free of him, standing back, her body loose and ready to attack him again. Tyler rolled to his feet and tried to keep his eyes off her small, firm and now very exposed breasts. Fire flickered under his skin and the only thought that consumed him was his need to get her shorts off. Some insane voice in the back of his head screamed that she had to be naked. And so should he.

“Shall we make this interesting?”

Her green eyes narrowed as she edged around him, matching his movements. “Interesting, how?”

“You take a fall, you lose clothing.”

Scar stared down at her body. She looked back up at him from under her lashes, her eyebrow lifting. “I only have these. You have trousers and underwear. What say we make it even first?”

Tyler paused, to give the illusion that he was reluctant. But that small voice wanted his fingers to fly. His mouth pursed. “Fine.” And his trousers pooled at his feet. He threw them and both of their shredded shirts out of the arena. “Happy?”

Her smile was wicked. “When you’re on your back, I will be.”

His cock twitched. Her scent drifted above the sterile odour of the filtered air and the dryness of the sand, something sweet and intoxicating. His chest tightened. He wanted her—

Scar’s foot connected with his knee and he grunted. Muscle instinct took over and he grabbed her arm, yanking her forward and kicking out her legs. She thumped into the sand, face down. Tyler straddled her thighs. “One for me, I think,” he murmured. His fingers slid down her spine, easing over her ribs until he reached her hips. He hooked a finger into her shorts and twanged them.

“Okay, you got this one,” she muttered and he was certain there was a curse mixed in under her breath. “But after I get you…” her head turned and bright green eyes speared him, “…and I will, then the one who beats the other into submission is the winner. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Tyler murmured. “Now I take my reward.”

He pulled at her shorts, slowly curling the smooth fabric from her alabaster-stained skin. He slid his erection over the cleft of her buttocks. She groaned and lifted her hips from the sand. Her sweet scent had him dizzy and aching. He pulled the shorts further, his fingers slipping deliberately through her short tangle of dark hair. She was wet, so very wet.

Scar mewled and pushed against his searching fingers.

He could take her, pound into her willing flesh and give them the release they both needed. But something held him back. Now wasn’t…right. He slid his fingers free and Scar cursed him. He smiled and kissed both cheeks. “No. You’re here to fight, remember?”

Her strong thighs gripped him, scissored him, and with a whoomph of air from his lungs, he was on his back. “I remember.” She grinned and ran a fingernail down his chest. Tyler swallowed, watching her pull his shorts over his straining cock. Her finger traced around its base and tension tightened his gut.

Scar leaned over him, her wicked eyes never leaving his, and placed a delicate kiss on the sensitive head. His blood pounded and he ached to thrust into her sweet—

She leapt away laughing and he cursed her.

“Fighting?” she said.

“If that’s what you want.” His low snarl had her swallowing and her hands flexed. Now was the time; now was right. He stalked her. She was his. He broke through her palm-strikes, her rapid attempts to block him. She was his and he would prove it.

In one move, he had her. Sweating, he pinned her up against the smooth wall. “Surrender.” A snarl curled around the word. “Now.”

Scar fought for breath, her marbled skin still flushed. “Make me.” Her eyes sparked and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her satin-smooth thighs crushed against his hips. Tyler could take her, bury himself deep and mark Scar as his own. Because she was his. Body and soul.

The insane voice screamed at him to do it. Mate with the woman…who was returning to meet her betrothed.

A cold rush slid down his spine and doused the need consuming his body.

“This is insane.” Tyler shook off the stupidly primitive thoughts. He slid his hands over her warm thighs and eased them down. Stepping back from her, he turned his attention to finding his clothes. Well, what was left of them.

“So that’s it?”

Tyler found his underwear, picked up his trousers. He made himself look at her. The intricate marbling of her skin had faded in the fierce wash of the single light and her green eyes gleamed with fury. All blood travelled south. His throat dried and he wanted nothing more than to push her hard up against that wall and make her his. He swallowed. Not going to happen. “It?” he asked and lifted an eyebrow.

His deliberate obtuseness caused her skin to flush and her hands tightened into fists. “This is not leaving me with a favourable impression, Tyler.”

He laughed and gathered the remaining tatters of the rest of his clothing. “You’re heading to your home planet for your wedding, Scar. Do you really think I’m insane enough to go up against your stepfather’s power and your Caraniae father’s wishes?” He palmed the initiator built into the wall and dumped the torn clothes into its recycling unit. “Mental impairment wasn’t on my discharge orders.” Well, that was a lie, but he didn’t have to admit that to her. He ran a hand through his damp hair. “Let’s forget about this, shall we?”

The exit door slid open before him.

This was the way it had to end. The need to have her was almost overwhelming, but it was wrong. He thought of the reception that would await him on Beta-Ursae-7. He grimaced. Sex with Scar would be more like suicide.

His gut cramped. Yes, he was a total shit.

Chapter Three

“Ms Myers you have permission to enter the Myers’ compound with your guests.”

Scar acknowledged the clipped military voice with a short, “Thank you.”

She stepped into the silver-edged alcove set behind the passenger cabin. Tyler and Rochester followed. Scar focused on running her fingers over the teleport panel strapped to her wrist, detailing the coordinates. For a moment, she thought of whisking Tyler off into space, or burying him a kilometre beneath the planet’s mantle. Her gaze fixed on the sharp edge of his jaw, the muscles tight. The taste of him still burned on her tongue and it had been over twenty hours since he had walked away from her.

With her gut knotted, her fingers paused on the panel. It was tempting. So tempting to accidentally misplace Tyler…but something she didn’t want to name held her back.

She stopped herself from sighing and tapped out the correct landing coordinates. The familiar spiralling damp air swirled around her, bright specks of light flashing past her eyes. Her skin prickled, there was a sharp tug and the small bay vanished.

The scent of mown grass washed over her, bringing with it clean air. Scar opened her eyes to a bright blue summer sky and breathed the freshness deep into her lungs. It’d been months since she’d been planet-side and the pull of natural gravity worked her muscles. They’d landed in the cobbled courtyard, set lower to the west wing of the mansion house. Stone steps ran up to the terrace and Scar looked up to find four Seagar 9-70s aimed unerringly at them by blank-faced guards. More weapons fired up around the courtyard, but Scar didn’t turn around. She smiled. Yes, it was her usual homecoming.

The Seagars were the weapons of choice for the Corps. Tyler would feel right at home.

Another black-clad guard padded down the steps and waved a scanner over them. Cold eyes narrowed as he read the results. He gave a quick nod. “Welcome home, Ms Myers. Welcome to the compound, Mr. Rochester, Commander Tyler.”

Scar gave the guard a half smile. “Where do we go?”

“Your mother is waiting for you in the entrance hall.”

She nodded. “Thank you.” She moved past the guards, leaving Rochester and Tyler to follow behind her.

“Nice welcome, Scar,” Rochester murmured.

“My stepfather doesn’t trust anyone. His security measures are why I don’t come home.” She stared up at the grand house in which she’d grown up. The pale, smooth stone gleamed in the bright sunshine, the light flashing over the windows stretching up four stories. Surveillance devices gouged the fabric of the building. Her spine itched, knowing that they watched her and operated a host of artillery aimed at her head. It didn’t matter that she was Oliver Myers’ stepdaughter; that she had been a part of his household since she was a two year old. Her reflection caught in a box-sashed window. Honeyed marble stained her pale skin and her deformed tail twitched. Her Caraniae heritage was too obvious. So, she was still and always would be suspect.

“Isn’t this overkill?” Tyler muttered.

“What?” Rochester stared over the open lawns that stretched away from the front of the mansion. He turned back to look at the courtyard. “The guards have gone.”

Tyler laughed. “This is why I’m your bodyguard, Iain.” He stared up at the house and Scar tried not to dwell on the perfect line of his jaw. Her gut tightened. She failed. Her obsession for him hadn’t faded. Not one bit. “Every movement is scanned and evaluated. Cough at the wrong time and you’ll be so much dust.” He caught her staring at him. “Can’t you feel it?”

His voice dropped heat through her body. Scar glared at him and increased her pace over the crunching gravel. He was playing a dangerous game. A smile pulled at her mouth. Mess with her here and she would see him atomised.

“Sheehan!”

Her mother rushed down the curve of the front steps and enveloped her in a tight hug. “I’m sorry,” Andra murmured close to Scar’s ear. “I had to agree or they would’ve hunted you down.”

Scar pulled out of the hug. She made herself nod. The Caraniae could be over-enthusiastic in a hunt. They couldn’t guarantee that they’d bring her back alive. “It’s all right.” She let out a slow breath and walked with her mother. “What’s going to happen exactly?”

Andra’s mouth thinned. She linked her arms through Scar’s and turned back to the house. “Your father’s here. And there’s a small honour guard accompanying your betrothed.”

Tyler muttered something and Scar turned.

Andra stared at him. She blinked. “He’s Corps.” Her eyes roamed over him and fire surged in Scar’s gut. Her throat ached to growl a warning. “He’s lithe…and yes, pretty. Officer class, if I’m not mistaken. Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Andra turned back and took the last step up, walking towards the open front doors. There was no more comment about Tyler and for that Scar was grateful. Her overreaction to her mother’s frank appraisal of him was disturbing. She put her mind back to her more pressing problem. “When does this kick off?”

“Tonight at moons’ rise there will be a…simplified…ceremony.” She gave Scar a half smile, her eyes shadowed. “We put our foot down about the blood sacrifice. Though Rilean is somewhere in the South Woods slaughtering a beast right now.”

“Rilean…” Scar rolled the name around her tongue.

“Rilean Harannah of the Red Crag, First son of the First House and so on and so forth…” Andra rolled her eyes. “I stopped listening.”

They entered the wide entrance hall, bustling with caterers and staff. Scar stared around the familiar vaulted room, thick with gleaming white marble and gilded with too much red gold. Her stomach twisted. It was the only home she had ever known. And it was why, at the first chance she had, she’d forced her mother to charter her the Ioannos and then she had taken to the stars.

“Why is he doing this? My father.” The title tasted strange in her mouth.

“The war is over. You aren’t the stigma you once were. Kajetan’s grabbing his chance for power.”

Andra stated the facts baldly and Scar laughed. “Yes, I didn’t think there would be any fatherly affection thrown in.” She paused, unaccustomed nerves eating at her insides. She had never met Kajetan Vall. No affection ran through her for the man, and some part of her knew she would try to kill him for his abandonment. Family as well as honour formed the core of Caraniae culture. “You said he’s here?”

“He’s staying in one of the houses at the edge of the compound. Don’t worry, Sheehan. We’re keeping you apart.”

“Good plan.”

Andra stopped at the bottom of the stairs, which curved up into the crystal dome. Light splintered down over the smooth, cool marble. “You have your old rooms.” She glanced back to Rochester and Tyler, her gaze delaying on him for a moment longer than necessary. Scar’s hands clenched. “Iain and Antony are close by.” She ran a hand over her dark hair and a frown caused her brow to crease. “I have to prevent a major incident from flaring. Myers will insist on hiring ex-Corps personnel. Throw in a cohort of young hot-headed Caraniae…” A smile twisted her mouth. It wasn’t echoed in her dark eyes. “It’s already been a stressful few hours.”

“It’s your job, Mother,” Scar reminded her.

“Was my job.” Andra stepped back from them, her gaze already moving on. “I left the Diplomatic Service a long, long time ago.”

“It shows.”

Andra snorted, but humour now lit her face. “Be back here as soon as you can. The party is waiting on you.”

“Wonderful.”

Andra sighed. “That isn’t the worst of it, Sheehan, believe me.” She waved and strode out across the black and white tiled hall, her boots clacking against the stone.

Scar turned back to the wide stairs and started to climb. The house was centuries old and Myers and her mother didn’t believe in spoiling it by putting in conventional platforms between the floors and rooms.

“Your mother was a diplomat?” Rochester matched her pace up the great sweeping curve of the staircase. “You never said.”

“Always pumping for information, Rochester.” He’d known who her mother was, he simply wanted the little titbits, the secrets left out of Andra Myers’ official biographies. He wouldn’t get them from her.

Scar stopped at the top of the stairs. The long gallery stretched out before them, glass arcing over the principal drawing room. A smile pulled at her mouth. “She was one of the first negotiators between the Coalition and the Caraniae. It was how she met Kajetan.” As a child she had often wondered who she would have been if her mother had not chosen that path. “For a short time, Kajetan risked the shame of thinning his blood with the enemy. Then I was born with this skin and this tail.” Her laugh was harsh; she couldn’t help it. Her tail, at almost thirty centimetres, still shocked pure humans, but to Caraniae it was an insult. “The Caraniae are very proud of their long tails. My spikeless little stump, as Kajetan called it? He really couldn’t live with that.”

Rochester smirked. “You know I love your stump.” But the familiar playful tug never came.

Scar stared. Tyler had Rochester’s hand in a tight grip, their boss’s fingers already bloodless. Tyler’s face had hardened and his eyes burned. “Don’t,” he muttered in a voice she hardly recognised, “touch her.”

“Antony, what the hell—”

Tyler shook his head and dropped Rochester’s hand. He backed away, his face flushed. “I’m… I don’t know.” He cursed and the professional mask slid over his features. His shoulders straightened. “Sorry, sir.”

Rochester stared at him, absently rubbing his already bruising hand. “What did you think—”

A black-suited butler appeared. “If you’ll come with me, sirs.”

Tyler’s eyes flickered his relief at the interruption. He waved Rochester ahead of him. With a backward glance at her, Rochester followed the butler, Tyler three paces behind his boss. He didn’t turn around.

Scar let out a slow breath and wiped a hand over her mouth. Her blood pounded. Don’t touch her. The words had her so wet her tail had curled. She willed herself to breathe in and out until her body was almost her own again. The fire in Tyler’s gaze…no, she had to stop thinking about him. He had no right to her; had forgone that right when he refused to claim her—

Scar growled against her own stupid thoughts. She wasn’t chattel.

She stretched her spine and willed down the urge to track Tyler to his room. This lust would work with her betrothed. Scar snorted. Then Tyler would be of no interest to her; she would be bound irrevocably to her Caraniae mate.

It would make everything easy.

The taste of Tyler’s blood, his sweat seared her tongue, even though the memory was almost a day old. “No,” she grunted the word at herself. “Save this lust for Rilean.”

Scar made herself move, turning left and following the curve of the dome. She stopped herself from staring through the thick glass to the chaos of the room below. She had a vague memory of the ritual involved. Even sanitised, there would be a lot of blood. The Caraniae couldn’t help themselves.

Her room wasn’t far. She had a suite of rooms that overlooked the front lawns, private, secluded. She rubbed at her neck. Yes, she’d needed that privacy. Caraniae children were semi-wild things and only having half the genes hadn’t saved her.

She palmed open the door and entered her old sanctuary.

The scent of polish and filtered air swept around her as the door clicked shut behind her. Her little sitting room hadn’t changed. Books lined a floor-to-ceiling alcove, couches curved around the ornate granite fireplace and her plants still lined the deep windowsills. Her mother had insisted on them, insisted she care for them. Scar winced. Andra had never taken the step to her looking after pets. Plants she couldn’t slaughter. It’d been hard for a growing child to focus on caring for something else other than her need to run through the woods and kill anything and everything in her path.

Scar stared out to the lush green of the lawns, the South Woods a dark stain on the horizon. Rilean was out there, slaughtering something, bathing in its blood in a claim to her. She wanted that image to call to her. But she saw only Tyler, naked and splattered with the blood of a dead Zacetian.

She forced down that memory and brushed a broad, sword-shaped leaf of a snake-head plant, tracing over the bronzed variegation that matched her own marbled skin. Its woody scent softened the air and she breathed in the familiar odour.

She padded into the bedroom and stopped at the foot of her bed. She stared at the clothes laid out over the white silk sheets. Her mother had said it would get worse. Scar’s nails dug into her palms and she stared at the few scraps of bleached animal hide they expected her to wear.

It was a compromise. They should be naked when they bonded.

“Show me an image of Rilean Harannah,” Scar said, lifting up the thin strips of stitched hide.

The air shimmered and a liquid image spun and coalesced. It settled and thickened into the image of a pure-bred Caraniae. His skin was the colour of clear honey, smooth and unblemished. Scar envied him that. She stalked around his image. Achingly lithe with beautifully defined muscle, Rilean’s face was almost feline. His tail swished idly, ivory spikes gleaming. Her mouth was dry. She couldn’t deny that something in his perfection called to her. “Aren’t you beautiful,” she murmured.

“Is he?”

Scar’s heart stopped. Tyler leaned against the doorframe to her bedroom. “What are you doing in here?”

Tyler pushed himself away from the frame and adrenalin surged through her body. “Is that who you want?” The softness of his voice belied the fire locked in his gaze. “This…” he waved his hand through the computerised projection and the image flickered and dissolved, “…insubstantial thing.”

“Get out, Tyler.” Her chin lifted. Heat swept up through her body and her tail flicked. Already, the subtle scent of her arousal drifted on the air. It was the exercise chamber all over again. The fire, the need to fight and fuck flaring in her blood, despite her every attempt to deny it. “Now.”

His eyes had darkened as his chest lifted and he breathed her in. Scar swallowed, her throat dry. Something screamed in her to run. Her mate had already been chosen. In a few hours, she would have her bond. She heard her own shallow breathing and an ache throbbed low in her belly. Everything else shrieked at her to tear the clothes from Tyler’s back.

“We were warned about Caraniae women in the Corps.” Tyler ran a slow finger down the front of her flight-suit, tracing over her breast. “That you could steal our minds, our souls.”

Scar’s breath hitched. “What are you doing, Tyler?”

“But I’m not in the Corps anymore.” His soft chuckle ran a rush through her flesh. “I’ll tell you what I will do. I’ll take you, fuck you. Put all thoughts of that pretty boy from your head.” Scar’s heart thudded. A smile pulled at his mouth, dark, predatory, as his fingers brushed her lips.

“Ready?”

Chapter Four

Her eyes were wary. She didn’t trust him, but she didn’t fight the slow slide of his hand over her jaw and down her throat. “So compliant, Scar. Just as you should be.” He stopped at the edge of her flight-suit. “Take this off.”

Her mouth twisted into a hard smile and she stepped back. “No.”

Fire burned up from his gut. More of her games…but there was her scent again, drawing him in. The house swarmed with Caraniae, with her family, but Rochester had almost touched her and fury had surged. Scar was his to claim. No one else’s. “Are you going to fight me?”

“You’d like it too much.”

“Imagine us naked again, Scar. I’d pin you to the wall, our bodies slick with heat and sweat. I’d find you.” He moved forward, inching her back step by step. “Fuck you.” He grinned and watched her swallow. Tyler lifted an eyebrow. “Want me to leave now?”

Scar’s pulse beat fast at the base of her throat and her skin flushed. “Why are you here?” Her voice strained the question. Scar uncertain? He liked that. “You made it obvious that I was the last person you wanted.”

Tyler laughed. “Oh, I want you, Scar. I was being…sensible.”

“And now?” She backed into the white plastered wall and winced.

“Iain almost touched you.” Anger at that act tightened his chest. He grabbed her backside, lifted her, pressed Scar hard up against his erection. She gasped and he ground against her. “You know that’s not allowed.”

“Isn’t it?”

The smirk on her mouth had him growling. “Scar…”

She ran an idle finger along his hairline and down his temple, her twisted smile sharpening. “I’ve known Rochester for years. I’m sure he wouldn’t have stopped after our fight, left me sweaty and aching. He would have—”

Tyler swallowed her words, her breath. Her tongue fought him, her hand fisting in his hair. Her scent filled him and a riot of liquid heat rushed through his blood. He pulled his mouth away.

“Tyler, what the hell—”

“Strip.”

Her eyes gleamed. “Make me.”

Tyler threw a laughing Scar onto her bed, her amusement twisting the ache in his flesh. He had to have her. He pulled off her boots and dropped them with a dull thud into the carpet. “Undo the suit.”

Her fingers traced down the front of the black fabric, playing with the fastenings. Tyler’s heart thudded. The ache in his balls, the need to bury himself deep, deep within in her had his brain on fire. What was she doing? “I’ll shred it, I swear.”

She flicked at one clip and then another. Her hand slid over her marbled skin, catching more clips until her fingers stopped to play on the soft curve of her belly. She looked up at him from under her lashes and his hands tightened into fists. “Good enough?”

“No. Off. All of it.”

Scar shrugged out of the top half of the suit and wriggled her body out of the rest. She fell back onto the bed, her arms flopped above her head. “Now, do you plan to do anything this time? Or should I rediscover the charms of some of my stepfather’s guards?”

Her goading had him so hard he could barely speak. And then there was her scent, drifting up to him on the cool air. It hit his hindbrain and he growled. His hands ran up her thighs and parted her legs. The first lap of his tongue had her quivering. And she tasted…she tasted sweet and hot and so…his. He groaned as he lapped at her, drinking her, eating her. Her body shook and he held her firm, held her and licked her until she screamed his name.

He ripped off his shirt and stamped out of the rest of his clothes. His body covered hers, his mouth, his fingers finding sensitive points in her flesh, forcing her to arch against him and dig her nails into his back. Her soft little mewls had him pressing hard against her…and then he was inside her. Tyler bit down the urge to howl. She was hot. Tight. So tight—

“Scar…”

She bared her teeth at him. “Don’t stop!” She dug her fingers into his backside, urging him harder, faster, to thrust into her willing flesh.

Tyler was lost. Couldn’t fight her need. Her spine arched and her muscles contracted around him as she came again, pulling his orgasm from him. Heat, light surged over him and he sank his teeth into her shoulder until he tasted her blood. Shuddering, his body eased down and his tongue worked over her wound. She was his and the satisfaction of that made him smile.

Scar sighed and ran her fingers slowly through his hair. “Nice,” she murmured.

Tangled and sweaty, Tyler rolled over, pulling Scar with him. His fingers traced lightly over the mark on her shoulder. His. He stared up at the ceiling’s intricate plasterwork and let out a slow, hot breath. Sanity drifted slowly down over his brain. He closed his eyes. Shit. Shit. “You should have said.” He ran a fingertip around the bite marring her skin. He turned his head and held her shadowed gaze. “I would have been more careful.”

Scar rubbed at her eyes and pinched at the bridge of her nose. “No, you wouldn’t.” Her laugh had a bitter edge. “That’s not how it works.”

“Scar, I—”

“Tyler.” She ran her hand down his chest and played idly with the hard muscles of his stomach. She watched her hands and didn’t look up as she said, “I’ve never risked this. Not with a human and certainly not with a Caraniae. The Corps is right. Caraniae women are dangerous. Men fixate.”

Tyler laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

Her hand slid lower and toyed with the line of thickening hair. His hips twisted. “It’s too late to undo it.” The smirk in her voice had him hard. His cock twitched. She ran her thumb over the sensitive tip and he sucked in a quick breath. “So…you know my lack of experience is a pressing weight.” She looked at him and her eyes gleamed. She was going to kill him. She was. “But I’m not sure a human could ever—”

“Enough.” And, with a growl, the insanity descended again.

“What do we do now?”

Scar rolled her legs over the bed and dug her toes into the thick carpet. They’d fallen asleep. The shifted shadows in the room showed the afternoon was moving on. Time to get up and face her betrothed. And didn’t that sound strange? She tried not to laugh.

Her gaze slid back to Tyler, delaying on his smooth, brown flesh. Bruising already stained his skin, red scratches running deep down his back, intersecting with the lines of silver scarring. She winced. “I was rough.”

Turning over, Tyler grinned and reached out to touch her lip. Scar hissed against the tender spot. “So was I,” he said. “What happens now? We get healing packs and head…” His words trailed away. He pushed back the sheet covering her legs and let out a slow sigh. “Your scent. Scar…”

She stared at him as he pulled her back into bed and knelt over her. He spread her legs. His finger slid over her slick folds and the familiar surge of need shot through her body. Tyler sucked on his finger. His eyes closed and he groaned.

The sight of him tightened her desire and the scent flowered. He stared at her. “All you can eat,” she murmured, falling back into the soft pillows.

The first slow swirl of his tongue had her gasping. He licked and sucked and hummed his pleasure and already the first tease of her orgasm flittered low in her pelvis. She didn’t question her reaction to Tyler. If she did, fear of what she had fallen into, of what she may have become, would swallow her whole. Her thoughts eased the urgency of her orgasm and it allowed Tyler to savour her, to eat his fill.

His fingers caressed her thighs in easy patterns, deliberately tracing sensitive flesh. She gasped and twisted against him. Tyler’s laughter brushed hot breath over her mons and her body shuddered. If he wanted to carry on, he would have to— The curl of his tongue found her clitoris and all other thought vanished.

Scar lost herself within her body, begging him, pleading. When his fingers slid into her and hooked in just the right way—

She cried out his name, light, heat and joy sweeping over her in a searing burst.

Tyler didn’t stop licking her, licking her until her aching body shuddered. But she couldn’t… “No more. Please,” she begged, pulling the man away from her thighs. “I can’t. I’m sore.”

Tyler grinned and licked his lips. “Why are Caraniae men so pissed off when they have this to come home to?”

“Probably because their women ration it.” She forced herself to stand. Her legs wobbled and she sank back to the bed. This…they…had to stop and her gut cramped at the thought. Tyler was addictive. She pushed herself up. She had to think about dragging on that stupid costume and facing the horde of Caraniae.

Tyler followed her out of bed. She closed her eyes as he stroked a finger over her bare shoulder and she shivered. “I’ve tasted you, Scar. I won’t give that up.”

She was screwed, but his words brought out the instinctive taunting, the foreplay they needed. She couldn’t help herself as she glanced back at him. She wanted him as much as he wanted her…and hell, she didn’t want to deny her instinct. With the curve of a sharp smile, she murmured words that would drive fire through his flesh. “Will you be my slave? My plaything? My fuck toy?”

His eyes darkened and the sudden sear of anger had her blood hot. His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Do you want your betrothed to satisfy you?” He turned her and pulled her back to him, pressing his hard body against hers. His erection pushed against her already wet flesh. “Do you think he could?”

How many times did her body want this man? All thoughts centred on him and the need to make his eyes burn. “He’s very pretty…”

She grunted as Tyler slammed her into the wall. All too quickly, he lifted her, his fingers separating her. Scar cried out at the thrust of his entry. Wild fire burst over her nerves. Tyler drove into her again and again, Scar’s thighs crushing his hips, her body wrapped about his, clinging, biting into the hard muscle of his shoulder.

Her orgasm teetered, she just needed, needed…

“You’re mine,” Tyler grated, emptying himself into her.

Fire burst over her brain and she lost her body to a burning wave of pleasure. His. She was his. Scar fell limp, Tyler’s fierce hold stopping her from falling to the floor. She buried her face against his neck and breathed in his wanted scent. This was why the Caraniae males were so angry. Their females did this to them, taunted them into fucking them. And it seemed that her scent could even change the brain chemistry of humans. “Yours.” Her voice was no more than a tired whisper. Tears pricked at her eyes. “I’m yours. Always.”

Tyler let her slide to the floor and she moved away, unable to hold his gaze.

“What the hell just happened? I took you like…” He winced and Scar looked up to see pain flash through his eyes. “I was like an animal, only one thought on my mind. No other man can share you, fill you. Your taste, your body, belongs to me.”

“You branded me,” she said, dropping down to pick up clothes from the floor.

“Branded you?”

“Caraniae ritual. It’s the final stage of the bond. You just soured me to others. Made me yours alone.”

“Mine?”

Scar’s hand fisted the thin hide of her costume. The word had sent a shiver over her skin. She’d never known her Caraniae genes were so powerful. She was bound to Tyler. Scar closed her eyes and she made herself breathe. But he was a pure-blood human. She had no clue how long the bond would last with him. “I didn’t know this would happen with you, Tyler. How long the effect will last—”

“How long?”

Scar shrugged and made herself stand. It pained her to look at him, so she didn’t. “With me, the chemical change is permanent. With you…” She let out a slow sigh. He would be free and she would be rabidly jealous of any woman simply looking, touching, kissing, fucking— She closed her mind to those thoughts. Already anger surged. “This could get…difficult…”

“Great.”

She padded towards the bathroom and willed herself not to look at him. “We have to get ready.”

The memory of pounding into her, the fire in his blood, her fierce cries of pleasure, the bite of her teeth into his skin until she drew blood had Tyler’s mind in turmoil. Absently, he rubbed his palm over the teeth marks on his shoulder and watched her close the door.

He closed his eyes, hating the fact that a healing pack would heal his skin as if she had never marked him. He wanted it. Wanted her on his flesh. The edge of his thumb caught in the raw curve of her upper bite and he pulled in a breath against the tender rush of pain.

It’d been wild sex. He’d never experienced such complete abandon. Yes, he’d made Scar his. The thought brought heat to his skin and satisfaction to his belly. But then the belief that what they’d shared would only be temporary soured his pleasure and his fingers dug hard into his skin and muscle. He welcomed the sudden sharp bite of pain. The idea that, at some point in the future, he wouldn’t mind others taking her scorched through his thoughts.

His jaw clenched. But he opened his eyes and let his shoulders drop. He had to see sense. The sane part of his brain hoped that the madness faded before he met Rilean Harannah. At that moment, he’d kill anyone who touched Scar.

And that included her future husband.

Chapter Five

“I’m not happy about this.”

Scar stared down at the stripes of hide crossing her body, legs, arms. The costume barely covered her crotch and she was conscious that it wrapped taut over her nipples. Tyler’s hot, angry glare was in sharp contrast to his earlier laughter as she struggled into the stupid thing. “This is what I have to wear.” She stretched her shoulders. “And I have to find my mother and try to explain…” she waved between them, “…us.”

Tyler stopped at the top of the stairs. “Your mother. She broke her bond.”

His fingertips pressed against her spine and she had to have imagined their hesitation. “A bond never formed between them. My mother has no Caraniae blood.”

“Neither do I.”

Her insides twisted. She knew that too well. “At the minute, I have enough for both of us.”

Tyler’s soft chuckle spread warmth over her exposed skin. “Yes, you do.”

Was a bond supposed to be this too? A simple pleasure at his being near her? His fingers traced between the hide, following the vein of her skin. Then, of course, there was the other side of the bond that had her needing to shove him up against the nearest wall and have her wicked way with him.

She let out a slow sigh and took his hand. The contact eased her nerves. “Let’s find my mother.”

They’d been missing for four hours. Scar winced. Not exactly come straight down. It surprised Scar that her mother hadn’t sent out a scouting party. Andra always had when she’d disappeared into the woods.

Scar glanced down at their joined hands and tried to ignore the surge of satisfaction in her gut. Her mother would know if there was a law that could sort this so they could avoid bloodshed. She might even know how long Tyler would be bound to her.

The joy soured and she pushed all emotion away.

They stopped at the open doors and her nerves flooded with adrenalin.

Dignitaries from every planet and government department packed the long drawing room. The intricate globes giving light to the space floated high in the curved ceiling, gleaming over the white cloths covering the numerous tables. It was a relief that no altar squatted at one end of the room.

There was yet no sign of the Caraniae contingent. Scar let out a slow, relieved breath. They were safe…for now.

“Sheehan, there you are!” her mother declared, rushing up to her. “You’ve obviously lost all concept of time. As soon as possible does not mean four hours—” Andra stopped and something in her face changed. “What have you done?”

“I…” How did she explain to her mother what she’d been doing for most of the afternoon?

“With me.” Andra flicked her finger towards them and left the noisy bustle of the drawing room. “In here.” She opened the door to a windowless storage room. Lights flicked on, breaking the gloom, and Andra shut the door. She secured it with a press of her palm to the lock. “Now.” Her sharp gaze darted from Scar to Tyler and back. “Tell me.”

Tyler squeezed Scar’s hand and Andra groaned.

“Tell me you didn’t, Sheehan. Please?” She pressed her hand to her face and expelled a sigh. “Practically every leader in the known worlds is here to witness this event. It’s a symbol of the new peace—”

Scar bristled. “So you wanted me to have Rilean as my mate?”

“No…” Andra shook her head, “…no, of course not. It’s just that…” Her mother stared at Tyler and her shoulders sagged. “He’s human, Sheehan. Whatever he feels now won’t last. With Rilean it would.” She laughed, something sour, bitter. “I was lucky that I couldn’t bond to your father. But you…? You’re branded, aren’t you?”

Scar nodded. Her mother had confirmed her worst fears. Tyler’s bond to her would fade to nothing.

“Oh, Scar.”

The use of her name by her mother had tears pricking at Scar’s eyes.

Andra straightened. “No matter the outcome between you two, today can’t go ahead.” She rubbed her hands together and her eyes were lost to thought. “You’ve questioned your father’s choice, defied him, dishonoured Rilean and his House, brought shame on your human family—”

“That is enough,” Tyler muttered, his voice little more than a growl.

Andra blinked. A smile twitched at her mouth. “We have to know what we must repair, Antony.”

Scar laughed. “It’s the Caraniae. Who do I fight?”

“Yes, it’ll probably come to that, despite my best efforts.”

“Wait, she’s not fighting anyone!” Tyler made Scar look at him, his hands hard on her shoulders. “I started this, I will sort it.”

Fire burned up from her gut at the anger in his face. The fight or fuck reflex had kicked in. “Tyler…”

“I’ve seen you fight, Scar. You’re an amateur.”

She shoved him back against the wall, breaking his hold on her. “Amateur? I’ll show you—”

“Enough!” Scar started at the command in her mother’s voice. “You’re spewing enough pheromones that even I can sense them.” She relaxed her body and her thumb and forefinger played with her bottom lip. “All right. Here’s what we do. Scar, you circulate. Briefly. People have wondered where you are, and you have to be seen. Then hide. Both of you. I have brokering to do.” Andra cracked her knuckles. “And it’s been a few years.”

She palmed open the door and ushered them out. “Stay calm and don’t let anyone, anyone touch either of you. The branding is still too raw. You shouldn’t be in company…but that can’t be helped.”

“Can’t we just…” Scar pointed back to the curve of the stairs.

“This is as much about Myers as it is about you. For the honour of the Caraniae, you’ll fight. For Myers, you’ll schmooze.” She snapped her fingers at a black-suited man heading down the long corridor. He stopped and scuttled over. “Go,” she muttered to Scar and Tyler. “Do your duty.”

Scar watched her mother bark rapid orders to the man, who nodded at almost every word. Then they both strode away, Andra’s boot heels clicking and the swish of her golden dress kicking out behind her.

“Your mother’s crazy.” Tyler’s voice was a warm whisper over her ear and she shivered.

“Yes, she is.” Scar turned back to the drawing room. “But she does know what she’s doing.”

“Scar.” Something in his voice made her look up at him. Her heart contracted at the softness in his expression. His warm hand slid across her jaw and unconsciously she leaned into his touch. “I know…whatever this is…will fade and I’ll probably regret that for my whole life.”

“Especially as I won’t let another woman near you.”

Tyler laughed. “Yes, there’s that.” His other hand slid down her back, drawing her to him with a gentleness they’d never shared before. She let herself enjoy the heat of his body, slowly stroking her hand over his spine. “But at this minute…” his voice was only a soft whisper as his lips brushed hers in a slow, tender caress, “…I would fight and die for you.”

His words cracked her heart. She swallowed, her throat tight. “Me too.” The words seemed inadequate, but she couldn’t add anything more. The pain and the joy of Tyler’s admission had her unbalanced. She let out a slow breath and willed herself to stand back from him. She worked a smile across her mouth. “Now, for the honour of my family, I must chat and eat nibbles.”

“I’ll do that with you too.”

Scar took his hand. “My champion.”

“Always.”

But that wasn’t true and they both knew it.

“I thought you’d abandoned me.” Rochester smiled and waved his fluted glass at them. A hint of censure lurked in his clear gaze and Scar knew they’d get chewed out once they were alone with him. “Where have you been?”

Scar put on the practiced smile her etiquette tutors had beaten into her. “Tyler was helping me with something. Time ran away from us.”

“Really?” Rochester’s gaze dropped and then his eyes narrowed. “Helping you?”

Scar was aware of standing close to Tyler. They didn’t touch, but her skin prickled at the proximity of her hand to his. “Yes.” She glanced around, judging the press of surrounding people. She couldn’t tell her boss the truth, not there. “It’s…complicated.”

“Yes,” Rochester drawled. “Everything with you always is.” He broke eye contact and stared around him. “Now…” his hand brushed her arm to turn her, “…who can you introduce me to first?”

“Don’t touch her, Iain.”

Tyler’s low snarl whipped a sharp frisson under her skin. Scar closed her eyes and willed down the need to throw Tyler on his back. “He’s right.” She stepped back, away from Rochester’s touch. Tyler wrapped his arm strong and secure around her waist, pulling her against him. Her tail wrapped tight around the back of his leg. “We can’t help this.”

Rochester stared at her, disbelief cutting across his features. “You’ve done something to him. I thought as much.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I’m here to work this room. Let’s go.”

Tyler dropped his arm and let Scar move forward. The press of his body still shadowed her back. She wanted nothing more than to get out of the stupid reception, drag Tyler back to her room, and securely lock the door. She pushed down the images of what they could then do…no, she needed to keep a clear head.

She smiled and led Rochester to the insipid Governor of Delta-Caeli-5. The small man twirled a goblet of wine and stared out over the darkening lawns. Scar kept up on her international politics; her mother had instilled it from a young age. Maliese held together a shaky government, ripe for someone like her boss. She wanted Rochester’s good grace again. His fleecing of the little man would go someway to appeasing him. “Governor Maliese, may I introduce Iain Rochester, my employer.”

The governor smiled and extended a thin hand, on which glittered a brilliant yellow diamond. Yes, she’d gauged Rochester’s weakness. He took the man’s hand, performed a formal bow and it brought him close to the stone. Scar caught the glitter in his eyes. Rochester straightened. “Your Honour,” he murmured. “It is a pleasure.”

The governor gave them a narrow smile, while his gaze flicked over them. “Your employer, Ms Myers?”

“Mr. Rochester can explain what he does better than I.”

Rochester gave the governor a shining white smile and Scar held down a smirk. Rochester waved at a server and plied the man with a fresh drink. He’d already started the charm offensive.

She started at Tyler’s warm breath close to her ear. “Well done,” he murmured. “You just made Iain a very happy man.” His lips brushed against the skin. “Should I be jealous? Is it allowed that you satisfy someone else?”

Despite the humour, his words ended on a rough growl that had her face flushing. She turned her head, her voice just above a whisper. “I must serve my employer however I can.”

“Scar…” His low rumble had her heart thudding. “Don’t make me punish you.”

“Here, in front of everyone?” His hand took a hot and tight hold on her hip, his fingers pressed into her bare flesh. Liquid heat pooled low in her belly. The bonding screwed with her head, but she didn’t care. Couldn’t care. “Where everyone could see me? Oh, wouldn’t that be fun.”

His hand slid over her pelvis, stroking her skin in a slow rhythm. “It’s bad enough that you only have a few strips of hide covering you.” His rough fingertips teased lower and Scar bit her lip. “That I’ve seen everyone looking at what belongs to me—”

“You?” There was enough doubt in her voice to move his fingers beneath the thin hide, to have them curl and—

“What are you doing?”

An unfamiliar hand grabbed her arm and dragged her from Tyler’s hold. Scar stared up at the hard face of her father and anger swelled. Her mother had shown her an image of him and his sharp features were burned into her memory. He was older now, with jowls thickening his jaw and neck, but she recognised his cold, green eyes.

“Get off me.” She wrenched her arm free, her words met with Tyler’s warning growl. Tyler settled his hands on her shoulders, drawing her back to him. She stared at Kajetan Vall. “You have no right to be here.”

Kajetan laughed, the sound rasping. “No fancy lying by your mother will change what has to happen.” He looked behind her, but Scar refused to turn. His gaze returned to her. “You don’t really think fucking this mongrel will sour your mating, do you?”

Chapter Six

“Kajetan.” Andra’s cool voice smoothed over Scar. “We had an agreement.”

“For me to be put out like a dog?” His gaze seared over Tyler, and Scar felt him stiffen in response. “So that you could do this?”

“What’s done is done.” Andra put her hand on Kajetan’s arm and he flinched. Hatred burned over his face. Her mother’s cool expression didn’t change. “We should discuss this somewhere more private. Your honour is at stake.”

“My honour.” Kajetan’s eyes were little more than slits. “You took that from me twenty-five years ago.”

Her mother’s political smile slipped into place, the deadly one that had grown men running in terror. Scar smothered her grin. “And twenty-five years ago I didn’t have the might of Oliver Myers behind me. So…” her fingers tightened on the hard leather of his sleeve and the hide creaked, “…somewhere private. Now, Kajetan.”

Andra’s gaze flicked back to Scar. “Go.”

“But…”

Her mother stared at Tyler, stared at him with a look that had Scar’s face flushing in anger. “Of course, if you’re tired of him…”

Rage burned up from her gut and her hands tightened into fists. How dare she—

Tyler’s hands on her arms stopped her from striking out. She swallowed the surge of anger. “Don’t.” Scar pulled herself free of him and lifted her hand, one that still shook from the strength of her sudden fury. “Don’t do that.”

“I underestimated how raw your bond is. It’s not safe.” Her smile was wry and she tugged on Kajetan’s sleeve. “For any of us.”

Her father’s face darkened and his hard green eyes fixed on Tyler. He resisted Andra’s attempt to pull him from the drawing room. “You’re just going to let him take her?”

Tyler’s hand slid possessively over her hip. “She’s already mine.”

The words almost had Scar melting against him. Desire flared and she turned away, her hand tight around his. Too much talking and seriously not enough time with Tyler naked and buried deep inside her. Heat pooled and her flesh started to ache. She pushed her way through the slowly mingling crowd, ignoring the complaining mutters. She offered no apology. Tyler had declared her his in front of her parents. Something about that had her Caraniae half in turmoil. Lust-fuelled adrenalin pushed her body into riot, her nerves stretching. She needed to run. Tyler had to prove his claim. He needed to catch her.

Finally, she broke free of the room and, with a smirk at Tyler, she took to the stairs.

“Scar?”

She stopped and gave him a feral grin. A split second later, he echoed it. He surged forward. Scar ran.

At the top of the stairs, she turned back on herself and found the narrow service access that ran the length of the house. Some part of her knew she was being insane. Instead of doing this she could be very happily naked with Tyler in the comfort of her own room. But her non-human genes overrode any sensible thought. This was the next part of the ritual. She ached for woodland and fresh earth beneath her feet, but the polished wood of the narrow stairs would have to do.

The door two flights beneath her slammed and someone took the stairs three at a time. Her heart pounded. “Is that you, Rilean?”

Tyler’s responding snarl had her laughing. She escaped to the second floor and tore across the open landing to the maze of bedrooms. At the far end of the house was another set of stairs. Startled staff leapt out of her path. She heard them cry out behind her and she had to see.

Breathing hard, she leaned against the doorjamb to the other service stairs. She looked back along the narrow, shadowed corridor. She could hear his feet pounding in a fast, even rhythm over the thick carpet. His breathing was as controlled. She had to see him, had to know the man who wanted to claim her. Light from a wall lantern splashed over him. The fierce, predatory twist to Tyler’s face had her heart in her throat and her flesh tight.

“Scar…”

The word scalded her. She slammed the door and ran. More stairs and she burst out onto the third floor, almost slamming into the rail that surrounded the great transparent dome. She tried to steady herself…but then Tyler was there. Still not breathing hard, his gaze burning with anger and need. Scar backed into the rail, her hands gripping it tight.

Tyler moved forward, sliding his hands over hers. “Do I need to restrain you?”

Scar gasped, her green eyes darkening. “I’ll fight you.”

She pressed her pelvis against his and watched the strain on his face as he had to force his eyes open. The insanity of the chase still pounded through her blood…and through him. His parted mouth, the little pulse jumping in his temple screamed it at her. He’d staked his claim to her…and she’d run from him. Now he’d caught her.

“You’re mine, Scar,” he said, both of them, she knew, enjoying that fact. He pulled his gaze away from hers and stared around the corridor that curved around the dome. “One of these has to be a bedroom.”

“Am I yours? Really?”

With a snarl at her impudence, he lifted her and threw her over his shoulder in one fluid movement. Scar pummelled his back with hard fists, but Tyler simply ignored her and pulled in a breath. Her scent. Scar’s nails dug into her palms. It got them into so much trouble. Her heart jumped as he kicked at the nearest door and stalked into a small bedroom.

An overly ornate bed dominated the room. Sunlight cut across the floor from the long, narrow windows and striped the bed’s silk covers. Tyler flopped Scar onto the deep mattress. He frowned and then casually began to tear strips from the gold silk.

Tyler crawled along her body, the brush of his clothes against her bare, sensitised skin making her suck in a quick breath. His fingers teased up her forearm, a strip of silk stroking over her. He tied the first strip around her wrist and secured her to the bedpost. “You know what I’m going to do with you,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

“I won’t let you.”

His calloused fingertips ran along the underside of her other arm, grinning as she expelled a sharp breath. “You have no choice. I caught you.” A silk band around her other wrist stretched her arm taut to the mattress. “You belong to me.”

Her expression grew contemptuous. “I’m still dressed, Tyler.”

“Easily fixed,” he said.

He slid back down her body and bound first one ankle and then the other with more silk. Tyler stood back and grinned at her. Frustration ran hot through her belly as he stared at her body, spread out before him. What the hell was he doing?

Scar tested her strength against her ties, feeling Tyler’s hot, dark eyes on her as she strained. “Just going to watch me?” she asked, her voice thick with sarcasm. Her body ached for him again. It was insane…but it couldn’t be denied.

Scar’s heart pounded as a knife glittered in Tyler’s hand. Fear and arousal fought within her. Damn her Caraniae genes. “Where did you get that?”

“Never leave the ship without it.” He bit down on the hilt as he stripped out of his suit and pulled off his shirt. Scar swallowed. She’d never tire of seeing his smoothly muscled body. He held the knife again. “Special issue from the Corps, almost undetectable.” His smile was sly. “I never know when I’ll need it.”

The blade slid a cold caress against her leg, followed by the rip of bleached hide. More slices and the warm leather of her costume fell away, just a tattered memory. He traced the knife over the rest of her. She moaned against the scrape of the knife over her tightened nipple.

Stretched out naked before him, Scar couldn’t resist as Tyler played the knife tip back down over the soft curve of her belly to toy with her pubic hair. She gasped at the shock of ice-cold on her hot, over-sensitive flesh, willing herself to stillness.

Cool lips replaced the blade and the knife thudded into the deep carpet. “This is going to kill me,” he murmured, his tongue tracing down to her clitoris. Little precise flicks had her hips twisting.

“Kill you…?” The need to touch him, to shift her legs, her body, had her blood pounding. But he’d claimed her, bound her, literally and that…little sparks danced behind her eyes at the thought…was right. She was so close, so close… Sweet tension tightened her flesh as Tyler’s clever mouth licked and sucked and lapped. The silk ties twisted against her skin, but Tyler didn’t stop. She felt his smile against her and then, as his fingers swept loose patterns over her inner thigh, circling, teasing, he started to hum.

The vibration had her mouth dry, her spine arching.

Just a little more…

His teeth grazed her clitoris and Scar cried out, her orgasm bursting over her in a hot, blistering rush. Trembling, she sank into the mattress, her body limp and the aftershocks still coursing through her muscles. He was good. He was so very good.

With a soft laugh, Tyler licked his way up her damp, shaking body. “Thank you,” he murmured, his finger following the line of her lips.

Scar gave him a wicked grin, the slide of his warm skin over hers exciting her again. “I would have done that with anyone.”

She enjoyed the sudden flare of rage in his face as the bond changed him. His fingers found her pussy, sending a fresh wave of need through her body. “No one else can touch you,” he grated.

Scar shifted her hips as his fingers played her. She crushed her eyes against the flicker of orgasm already searing low in her pelvis. “Every man can touch me, Tyler,” she gasped, hearing her own breathlessness. “Can kiss me. Can fuck me.” She arched against his relentless fingers as they stretched her. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“There’s this.” Tyler pushed his cock hard into her and she groaned. “No one will have you but me.” He thrust again and light danced before her eyes. “No one.” His mouth burned over hers, so close she could almost taste herself. “I’ll keep you tied to this bed, fuck you, but never let you come.” His grin was wicked. “Then I’ll find one of those nice little maids. You’ll watch and scream at me, curse me…”

Raw anger scorched her and she strained at the silk. “You’re mine,” she rasped.

Tyler’s eyes gleamed. “Am I?”

Scar’s breath was shallow. Every muscle ached to be free of her binds, so that she could throw Tyler on his back and show him how much she owned him. “I’ll get free. Every minute you’ll wonder where I am.” She couldn’t stop the taunts, knowing that her words spurred him on, made him slam into her willing flesh. Fire seared her brain. It was insanity. She couldn’t stop. “And when you find me you’ll taste other men on my skin. Follow their tongues, their mouths, their—”

A blinding orgasm robbed her of her words.

Tyler followed her, groaning her name against her damp, shivering skin. He collapsed across her body, his hand sliding over her slick waist. He slipped a trembling finger between her legs, lifted it to his mouth and sucked it clean. “Nice,” he murmured.

“Tyler, I can’t breathe.”

“You.” He glared at her and a slow ripple of pleasure eased through her. “Everyone can fuck you?”

She smiled at him and wanted to run her hand over his sweat-damp hair. “All men,” she murmured, “named Antony Tyler.”

“That’s better.” His fingers slid along her arms to loosen her ties. He kissed the reddened skin. “Rough sex again.” His breath cooled the burn. “Sorry.” He undid the ties around her ankles and crawled back into her embrace. He tugged cool sheets over them both.

Scar held him to her breast, her fingers stroking through his hair. His breath stirred gooseflesh over her skin, his hands warm and tight around her waist and their legs tangled comfortably. She didn’t want to think how true his words were. Then I’ll find one of those nice little maids… Anger and fear roiled within her, making her heart pound and her fingers tighten briefly in his hair.

“Scar?” His arms loosened and he tried to pull back.

“Sh-h-h,” she murmured and placed a kiss against his hair. She rubbed her palm down his back, tracing the smooth shine of his numerous scars. “Can I be human for a moment? Please?”

Tyler brushed her clavicle with gentle lips. “The insane things we say and do while we have sex don’t mean anything, Scar. You know that.” He sighed and his warm fingers trailed over the curve of her waist. “I’m yours…”

…For as long as I can be. Scar filled in the rest of his words. Tears pricked at her eyes and she swallowed past the pained lump in her throat. “Mine,” she murmured. She felt his smile and pain tightened in her chest. “Sleep, Tyler.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Scar closed her eyes. They needed to rest. The Caraniae would demand blood for her disregard of their laws. Maybe she wouldn’t have to worry about Tyler growing bored with her. She let out a slow, tired breath. At some point in the night, her former betrothed would probably gut her.

Chapter Seven

“Sheehan?”

Scar drifted up from sleep, trying to remember where she was and why her body was a tangle of sheets and extra limbs. Tyler grumbled and wrapped himself tighter. Warmth spread through her. She would have never taken the former commander for a snuggler.

She looked up to find her mother standing in the shadowed doorway. Shadowed? Her gaze flicked to the long, box-sashed windows. Thin streaks of golden-tinged clouds stood out against a darkening sky. It was late. Very late. Shit. “What’s going to happen, Mother?”

“We’ve prepared the room beneath the drawing room. Rilean knows that when he returns he must fight, not mate.” Andra’s mouth quirked upwards. “He is not happy.”

Scar’s returning smile was sour. “So when do I face him?”

“You don’t…” Her gaze slid to Tyler and Scar’s stomach dropped. “He stole you, dishonoured you. He must prove his claim.”

“That’s stupid, I—”

“No. You intervene and they have a right to kill you both.” Andra straightened. “The Caraniae believe their women are a wild and dangerous enemy who must be tamed. The chosen man must prepare to claim her and tolerate no interference. To steal a woman on her betrothal day…that takes guts.” She laughed. “Whether Tyler knew it or not.”

Andra’s face sobered. “If Rilean wins, if Tyler…” Scar held her breath, waiting for her mother to say the word… dies… but she didn’t. “The bond is broken and Rilean is free to claim you.”

Scar closed her eyes and her hold tightened on the still-sleeping man in her arms. “Why did you ever see anything in these mad men?”

Andra’s gaze softened. “I was young. And a Caraniae man can be…overwhelming.” She ran a hand over her hair and gave Scar a brief smile. “An hour, Sheehan.” And she was gone.

“I said I would fight for you.”

Tyler’s soft voice made her jump. “You were awake?”

She couldn’t look at him. If she’d just left him alone, kept her libido in check, she would’ve soon been mated and he would be looming over Rochester, safely doing his job. He would not be in her arms and about to die at the hands of a Caraniae warrior—

“I won’t die, Scar.”

A smile pulled at her mouth and she changed the subject. “Are you sure you’re pure-blood human? This telepathy thing is unnerving.”

Tyler laughed. “I need a shower. Want to make certain I am human?”

Scar rolled out of bed and held out her hand. “Yes,” she said.

The bathroom floor tiles shocked cold through her bare feet. She squeaked and darted back to the warmth of the bedroom. Tyler stared at her, a disbelieving smile pulling at his mouth. “What?” she muttered and hoped that a blush hadn’t stained her face. “My feet are sensitive to cold.”

His soft laugh had her mouth tightening. “Do you mind if I file that information away?”

“Can you just activate the shower?”

“Here.” His arm slid around her back, his other arm slipping under her knees. Scar grabbed at his neck as he lifted her and padded across the tiles to the shower unit. “I thought you’d protest.”

“No,” she murmured. His fingers were tight under her breast and she had her face pressed into his neck. His scent, his warmth, Scar breathed him in and let out a slow sigh. Her lips brushed the curve just above his clavicle. She traced her tongue along the prominent bone and grinned as he shivered.

Tyler dropped her to the raised shower tray and stepped in after her. Glass surrounded them and the air warmed. There was a telltale hum before water jetted over her body in a perfectly heated rush. Scar gasped, wiping the foaming spray from her face. The light scent of lemon filled the cubicle and the water in her mouth tasted almost like soap. She gagged. “Water.” She rubbed at her eyes, “I forgot they have that water-soap crap here.”

“You prefer air-scrubs?”

Scar stared up at him. Water plastered his dark hair to his face and ran down his smooth face in clear streaks. She stroked over his jaw, following the sluice of water over his chest. “At this minute, no.”

Tyler grinned and traced his fingers over her wet shoulder. “Shame the water doesn’t lather.” His eyes were wicked as his erection pressed slick up against her wet stomach. “Suds are fun.”

Scar bit back a smile, but then her humour faded. What he would have to face weighed heavy on her. “Are you ready for this, Tyler?”

His large hands shaped down her back to her buttocks and he nuzzled into her neck. “I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

Scar shivered, her shoulders lifting even as a curl of tension heated her flesh. “The fight,” she murmured. “Have you ever fought a Caraniae warrior?”

Tyler’s mouth stopped its slow slide. His hands tightened, squeezing her against him, and he let out a slow breath. “I have.” The words slid over her skin. He pulled back, but a shadow lurked in his eyes. “And as you can see, I’m still alive.”

The familiar patterns of his scarring. That’s what they were, punctures from a Caraniae tail. “The scars on your back?”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “A barbed tail is a vicious thing. Not like this.” He stroked the smoothness of her tail as it curved over the top of her hip. “I imagine this is much more…pleasant.”

He’d changed the subject. Scar laughed, willing the fear back, but the knot of worry still had her gut tight. “Maybe,” she said. “Though this…” She stretched up onto her toes and guided his cock between her legs. She wiggled and his eyes glazed. “…is more fun.”

“Yes.” Tyler lifted her, settling her back against the warmed ceramic wall. He caught her lower lip with a playful bite. “It is.”

She couldn’t lose him. And if she did… Horror tightened her stomach. If Rilean claimed her, would none of this, her need, her feelings for Tyler, matter?

Scar deepened the kiss, desperation spurring urgency into her lips, her tongue.

The lemon-scented water diluted her tears.

Clothes were waiting for her, laid out over one of the chairs, when Scar padded out of the bathroom. Tyler’s were there too.

He lifted the scrap of black leather and a flush burned over his cheeks. “Should have known,” he murmured.

“You’ve fought in less.”

Tyler’s gaze slid to her and a smile twisted his mouth. “I was usually alone.”

“So you say.”

His smile grew. “And I didn’t expect to get the crap beaten out of me by a woman with a very active tail.”

He ran his finger along its short length and Scar pulled in a quick breath. She whipped away from him. “Least I get to dress this time.” She snorted as she pulled on her underwear. “But the Caraniae have an obsession. If it’s a ritual, you have to be as near-naked as possible.”

“I know.” He sighed and stared at the leather scrap in his hand. “Turn around,” he said.

“Tyler, you’re naked.” Scar slapped an exposed cheek, the sound satisfying. Still, her hand stung and she winced. The man was solid muscle. “You’re putting clothes on.”

He glared at her. “I’ve worn something like this before. You are not going to see me get into it.”

Scar bit back her smile and had to cover her mouth with her hand. She held it there tight, forcing back the bubble of laughter. She took a steadying breath. “Will you…wiggle?”

“Scar…” The warning growl in his voice had her skin flaring, but it wasn’t enough to break her humour.

“You’ll have to wiggle and squirm into it, won’t you?”

Heat burned over his face. “It’s undignified,” he muttered.

“All right.” Scar fought to keep her face straight and grabbed her clothes. “I’ll put these on in the bathroom.” She flicked the leather with her fingernail. It really wouldn’t cover hardly anything. “I’ll still know you wiggled though.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

She grinned at him. “Yes,” she said and let the bathroom door close on her. Scar let out a slow breath. Reality had started to settle in and all humour left her. Tyler had fought the Caraniae before. The graphic evidence was there on his back. But the amount of damage that opponent had inflicted was frightening.

Scar forced her mind from that thought and pulled on the smooth, single suit. Patting over the secret tabs, she smoothed it down over her stomach and hips. Her reflection caught in the wide curve of the mirror above the sink. She brushed back the wild tangle of her hair and stared at her face. Thin streaks of honeyed marble swirled over her features, but otherwise her skin looked unblemished. She ran a finger around her mouth. Yes, the healing packs they’d used earlier had done their job.

Her hand started to tremble. The thought of Rilean Harannah wouldn’t leave her alone. Coming from the First House, he would be a warrior of the highest rank, formidable, ruthless. Tyler had risen to the rank of Commander in the Corps, proof of his ability to fight. She bit her lip. He was still only human.

She opened the door and willed herself to leave the room.

Tyler paced the carpet, his face bleak.

Her heart twisted, and for an insane second, she wanted to bury her face in his chest. But he didn’t need her fear clouding him. So she coughed and waved her hand at the white silk sheet half-wrapped around his body. “That is hardly fair, Tyler.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “You really think I’m going to wander about the corridors with just a…pouch…on?”

“Most Caraniae will think you overdressed.”

He tugged at the sheet and it puddled at his feet in a soft slide of cloth. He winced. “I know, I know.” He lifted his hand. “Laugh, and you’ll be on your back so fast…”

Scar pressed her fingers hard over her lips. “That is not an incentive to stop me, Tyler.” She let out a slow breath and her gaze slid over his lithe perfection. Before she realised, she’d padded towards him, wanting to touch, to taste the heat of his skin, run her hands over the sharp definition of his arms, his chest, his stomach.

She licked her lips and smiled at the soft rumble rising from his throat. Her fingernail ran over the hard muscle of his chest, chasing a path down his stomach to the offending leather. Heat radiated off him. He smelled of lemon and his own intoxicating skin. “If there was time,” she murmured, her palm sliding over the leather to cup him. He groaned and her mouth dried. She swallowed, her eyes holding his. “Will you fight for me?”

His eyes darkened. The familiar curl of need tightened low in her pelvis and her body swayed towards his. “With my last breath.”

Satisfaction and pain warred within her. “It’s almost time.” Scar pulled back from his body and took his hand. Sanity edged down over her thoughts. She cursed her Caraniae genes for getting them into this mess, but it was too late. She couldn’t change who she was and what they had done. “We’ll take the service stairs, they lead down to the basement complex.” She twitched a smile. “Some of your dignity will remain intact.”

“Some.” He shifted his hips. “Damn thing cuts in.”

The bedroom door shut behind them. Scar tried not to panic, and pushed down her fear. She glanced down at his backside. “You definitely had to wiggle into that.”

“Scar, I still have a no laughing rule.”

“Spoil sport.”

The basement service door opened onto a long, dimly lit corridor.

Tyler squeezed the small hand that held his. How did he get himself into this mess? He willed the nerves in his stomach to calm. There was time enough yet to utilise that energy. He’d fought the Caraniae in single combat before and survived. It was how he became a commander, after all.

The cold, grey floor chilled his feet. A smile pulled at his mouth. As strong and as wild as Scar was, she still had sensitive feet.

“What are you smirking at?”

His gaze slid to her. “Can’t a man have secrets?”

Scar grinned at him. “Dressed like that? No.”

“Get this out of your system, because after this is over you and I are going to have words.”

Her smile faltered. “Tyler…”

“There you are!” Andra strode towards them, her thin-heeled boots clacking against the floor. Her gaze flicked over him and Scar’s hand tightened in his. Her sudden tension radiated up his arm. “Least they agreed to you covering some things.” Andra turned back and waved her finger. “This way.”

Two guards threw open double doors onto a square, shadow-thick arena. Sand covered the floor and it smelled almost the same as Scar’s exercise chamber on the Ioannos. At the edge of the raised lip of the arena-proper stood Kajetan at the centre of a small contingent of Caraniae. A human male, scowling, was five metres beyond them. Tyler had to assume that was Oliver Myers.

He ignored the sourness in his stomach. Yes, Oliver Myers knew exactly who he was now.

But he let that go, he let everything go except the task that was ahead of him, if he was to keep Scar.

When Rilean straightens from his ceremonial bow, I have to kill him.

“Scar.” He lifted her and her legs wrapped around his waist. He buried his face in her neck, her hair, and breathed her in, the scent of her skin and the still-lingering scent of her arousal. He was bound to her. He was hers and he would fight to prove that. “Yours,” he muttered and the surge of adrenalin fired his muscles.

Scar clung to him, her teeth biting at his shoulder. “Mine.” Her tongue laved the bite mark and he groaned. “Always.”

“Tyler…” The growling voice belonged to her father.

He let Scar slide to the ground and his hand cupped her jaw. “Always,” he said.

The sand burned hot beneath his feet as he stepped into the arena.

Rilean had yet to enter it, he was sure. The sterile air didn’t carry the familiar spiced scent of a Caraniae male. He remembered that all too well as he’d stood in almost the same position three years before.

He flexed his hands and focused on the criss-cross of grey shadow shifting over the pale sand. Alert, aware of every brush of air against his skin, he stalked the arena. He challenged Rilean so Rilean picked the time when they met in combat.

“Commander Antony Tyler.”

Rilean Harannah stepped out of the shadows. Clear green eyes fixed on Tyler and his head dropped to one side. Rilean was like all Caraniae, smoothly beautiful in combination with athletic perfection. His tail swished idly, ivory barbs caught in the swathes of white light. “You are not what I expected.” His voice was light, cool. Curious.

“And what was that?”

“I thought there would be more to the man who killed my brother.”

Chapter Eight

Tyler stopped himself from cursing. He had never known the name of the captured Caraniae who had earned him his promotion. The Corps offered prisoners-of-war a choice, fight for their freedom or languish in prison. The Corps had never claimed to be ethical.

“You know the Corps’ rules,” Tyler said.

“And yet you do not.”

Anger tightened in his stomach. Did everyone he met know about Vistern Ridge and why he’d been drummed out? He willed the anger to fade. Rilean just wanted to fuck with his head. “I’m here to fight for what belongs to me.”

Rilean’s perfect mouth quirked upwards. “You steal my betrothed and call her yours. That would take balls even for a Caraniae. For a human? Does insanity run in your family, Tyler?”

Tyler matched his smile. “Yes,” he said.

Rilean’s eyes narrowed and his body slid forward into a bow. Tyler’s blood started to pound, his body, his reflexes suddenly sharp and aware. He didn’t bow in return. He wasn’t stupid.

Rilean lifted his gaze to him and Tyler couldn’t read the emotion there.

Then his opponent straightened.

And Tyler made the decision to stay alive.

He moved with his arms loose at his sides, holding Rilean’s gaze as they slowly circled each other. The Caraniae had a weapon’s advantage. He caught it in his peripheral vision, as Rilean’s tail twitched out from behind his back. The ivory barbs gleamed.

The Caraniae, so very proud of their stupid, vicious tails.

Tyler knew that was his advantage.

He dropped, his body lunging low. The tail whipped at his face. Time slowed as Tyler focused. His hands should grab…there, just below the four curving barbs. He yanked Rilean’s tail and threw the Caraniae off balance. Rilean crashed into the sand. Still gripping his tail, Tyler pinned him with his body. He only had seconds before Rilean broke free—

Tyler choked at the hand constricting his throat.

Plan B. With a wrenching twist, he broke off one of the barbs. And then another.

Rilean howled. The hand squeezing his throat slackened, but not enough to pull free. Tyler’s vision dimmed and his chest burned with the need for air. Pain seared and sweat coated his skin. His blood-covered palm slid over a third barb, yanking it out by the root.

Agony tore over Rilean’s face and he shoved Tyler from him, scrambling back. He rolled to his feet. “I should have armed you.”

“Yes, you should.”

They were almost even now. Only one barb remained on his bloody tail. Tyler wiped the blood on his chest, his side, clearing his hands of its slickness. He edged away from Rilean’s still deadly weapon and slowed his heart, controlled his breathing.

The tail lashed.

Tyler darted back, but not before the razor-tipped barb caught his forearm. It cut to the bone. Tyler staggered and Rilean grabbed his injured arm, yanking down even as his foot raked down his shin. Tyler cried out and crashed into the sand.

Rilean pressed him down, pinning Tyler’s arms, his knee hard between his shoulder blades. Tyler spat out the sand. He twisted his head to breathe and found the bloody barb at his throat. Pain rioted through his body, but he tried to focus. Through his blurred vision he thought he saw Scar at the arena’s edge, her face tense, her hands in fists at her sides. He would lose her, lose everything…

No, he belonged to Scar. He was not going to die.

“So, Commander,” Rilean’s voice rasped against his ear. “Tell me about the defence of the Vistern Ridge.”

Tyler closed his eyes.

Oh, shit .

Panic shot through Scar. Tyler. Rilean would kill—

“Now he’ll get what he deserves.” Kajetan bit out the words.

Scar reacted without thought. Her fist slammed back into his face and her boot stamped hard at his foot. As he lurched forward, she barrelled him back through the loose knot of Caraniae standing with him. He slammed back into the wall. Scar jammed her arm hard against his windpipe. “Don’t you dare, say that.” She glared at him. “Why did you do this?”

His voice croaked out, “Your fate is mine to decide.”

“It is fuck your decision.” Scar forced her forearm tight against his throat, feeling him swallow against the increasing pressure. “You gave up that right when I was three weeks old. So.” She paused, enjoying the suffocating heat in his face. “Why did you do this?”

He twisted his neck. “I couldn’t lose.”

She released her arm. “What?”

“I knew you would fight this. You would fight this mating, fight your mate for your freedom. Defeated, his House would owe me a portion of his estate. You die and I received a bride price. Accept it and I’m allied to one of the foremost Houses. But you…”

He tried to grab her, but she palm-struck his arm, her foot kicking out at his groin. She watched him crumple to the floor and didn’t bother with a headlock. “Me, what?”

“You…” he looked up and anger burned in his green eyes, “…somehow bonded yourself to a mongrel. But then he is hardly any match for a Caraniae Lord.”

She thought about kicking him in the gut, hard and repeatedly.

“Sheehan.”

She ignored her mother. This man deserved to be beaten to a pulp.

“Scar!”

Something in Andra’s voice made her stagger back and she wiped at her mouth. She willed the rush of wild adrenalin through her body to ease. “Mother…”

Andra put her hand on her arm. “It’s over,” she murmured.

Scar blinked, her eyes darting back to her father, but then she realised that she meant… A fist tightened around her heart. Her mother was talking about Tyler.

She turned back to the arena on slow feet.

Did she feel different? Had the bond between them dissolved into nothing? Would she look into Rilean’s eyes and feel that sudden burst of betraying lust?

The Caraniae parted before her.

Two bodies lay on the sand. Rilean lay on his back, his eyes closed, his chest lifting and falling. He was alive. That meant…

Scar willed herself to cross the turned sand. She had to see him, hold him, say her goodbyes before she betrayed him with the man who had murdered him.

She dropped to her knees. Her throat tightened. Her hand wouldn’t move to touch his bruised, blood-streaked skin. Scar gritted her teeth. She was being a coward and he deserved better than that. Her palm rested against his warm, damp skin. Silent tears ran down her cheeks. I’m yours. Always. But the words wouldn’t leave her mouth.

“Scar…”

Her palm dropped as air escaped his body. Shocked, she snatched her hand back. “Tyler?”

A crusted eyelid lifted and a smile tugged at his mouth. “Maybe?”

Her gaze shot to the obviously alive Rilean and then back to Tyler. “How…” A hysterical laugh burst out of her. “How are you alive?”

“Commander Tyler killed my brother.” Rilean’s voice was soft, tired. “For that he deserves my respect. Acktan was vicious and cruel and dishonoured our House. For the Commander’s actions at Vistern Ridge, I spare him.” Clear green eyes held hers. “I no longer challenge the bond.”

Rilean rolled to his feet and offered his hand to Tyler. He accepted, and allowed Rilean to haul him up. Scar’s hand snaked around his waist to keep him upright. She watched the Caraniae stalk from the arena, his bloodied tail held high. His contingent fell in behind him and they marched out past the guards, who hastily opened the doors. “What the hell’s Vistern Ridge?” She stared up at Tyler. His file had blanked out most of his time in the Corps. She only knew of his seven-month prison sentence and dishonourable discharge.

Tyler lifted his arm and winced. “Can I heal before the questions start?”

Scar’s insides twisted. There was a room straight off the arena. She had often patched herself up in it. “This way.”

She was aware of her mother following her into the small room. Lights flashed on and she helped Tyler to the medical bed. The sharp odour of sterilising fluid cut the air. Low cupboards lined one wall, an initiator set at their centre.

She brought the long screen down low over his body and switched it on. It bathed him in warm, orange light. He sighed and closed his eyes. The low drone and the soft light eased him into unconsciousness.

Dialling up for healing packs from the initiator, Scar turned to her mother. “What now?”

Andra closed the door and palm-locked it.

Scar’s eyes narrowed, but she turned back to Tyler and pressed the cool, clear packs to his arm.

“This bond…”

“I know, it may not last.” Scar fixed her gaze on Tyler. The light glowed over his skin, and she watched the tension slip free from his face as the pain faded. “But while it does, I want to be with him.”

“Scar.”

Her gaze flicked back to her mother. Andra’s face looked…well…unsure and that wasn’t like her mother at all. “What?”

Andra rubbed her palms together and the dry sound rose above the drone of the medical equipment. “He’s not human.”

Scar blinked. “Of course he’s human. Look at him.” Her gaze slid over Tyler’s long, lean body. Every inch of him was human. She should know. She’d examined him…thoroughly. “I did the test myself.”

“On the surface yes,” Andra said. She moved to the console and tapped out commands. The familiar human double helix twisted on the thin synthetic screen. Another joined it. Scar recognised her own, the Caraniae genes stained red. No red stained Tyler’s DNA. “Whoever masked this did a bloody good job.” Andra’s fingers ran over more pads, until Tyler’s DNA changed. Flashes of red mirrored her own. “From what my people have been able to work out, his paternal great-grandmother was Caraniae.”

Scar stared at the screen, her heart in her throat. Words squeaked out, but not the ones she intended. “You had him investigated?”

Andra laughed. “Of course I had him investigated. He was trying to run off with my daughter.” Andra cleared the screen. “His family is military and very wealthy, they pride themselves on their pure-human lineage.”

The last scar on his spine, the one that didn’t fit with the pattern of the others, finally made sense. “He had a tail, didn’t he?”

Andra smirked. “He had a tail.” She stared at the man lying supine on the medical bed. Scar moved until she blocked her mother’s view. Andra’s smile deepened. “Yes, sorry.” She looked back to the blank screen. “We think that they performed the surgery when he was only a few days old and then reprogrammed his neural pathways to pervert his instincts. His family obviously wanted no trace of his Caraniae self left.” There was a hard edge to her voice. Scar shared that anger. Those who should have cared for him had mutilated his body and his mind. “I don’t think… He can’t know his heritage.”

“No, he doesn’t.” Scar turned back to stare at Tyler’s peaceful, sleeping face. He would’ve been aware of the risk, known that the bonding between them would be…permanent. Tears burned her eyes. Permanent.

“Yes.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder and humour danced in her eyes. “You’re stuck with him. Of course, I did suspect something…that’s what started the dig into his DNA.”

“You did?”

“He growled at me, warned me off.” She drew Scar into a tight hug, rubbing her hands over her spine. “That’s a strong bond. Very strong. It couldn’t happen to someone fully human.” She let her go and stood back. “I’ll have clothes sent down for him.” She smirked and patted Scar’s cheek. “Can’t have my son-in-law running around the house more-than-half naked.”

“Funny, Mother.”

“I thought so.” The door closed quietly behind her.

Scar turned back to the bed, resisting the urge to press her palm to his cheek and feel his warmth, to find reassurance that he was alive.

Her stomach knotted. He’d said that he would regret their ending…but how would someone who thought that he was fully human, who had fought and killed the Caraniae for years, react to the idea that he had always been one of the enemy?

Chapter Nine

Tyler groaned and tried to turn over on the medical bed. Scar put a hand on his hip, keeping him still. “Careful,” she murmured. “Narrow bed, long drop.”

A smile curved his mouth. “So, I’m not dead.”

“Looks that way.” She rubbed her hand over the golden warmth of his skin, the healing rays soaking through her. “How do you feel?”

“Considering I just got beaten to a pulp by a senior Caraniae…actually not too bad.”

Scar laughed and almost winced at how strained she sounded. She caught Tyler’s narrowed look and decided that the truth would serve her best. “My mother had you investigated.”

A blankness slid down over his face. She hurriedly raised the medical canopy as he sat up. He gripped the edge of his bed and stared down at the white-tiled floor. “I suppose you know everything?”

She blinked, confused. They were obviously talking at cross-purposes. “About…?”

Tyler looked up. “Vistern Ridge.” He rubbed at his jaw. “I wanted to explain, rather than have you read the official version first.”

“Tyler, that’s not—”

“No.” The word cut through hers. “You should know what I did.” A smile pulled at his mouth. “That’s why Rilean spared me. In a way, it ended the war.” He dropped down to the floor, and stretched his legs. “I need…ah.” He opened a travel pack sitting on one of the shelves. He hunted through it and pulled out something with a glittering blade.

“What are you…?” She snorted as he sliced through the thin leather cutting across his hips and tugged the leather free of his body. “Well that’s one way to get rid of it.” Her eyebrow arched. “So I’ll never get to see you wiggle?”

Tyler glared at her and pulled on the clothes one of her mother’s aides had brought. “No.”

“Shame.”

Dressed, he straightened, his hand smoothing over the front of his black shirt. “All right, to put it simply…I led a mutiny.”

“A mutiny?” Scar stared at him. “But you’re a commander. You just don’t do that sort of thing.”

Tyler laughed. “Yes, that was Central Command’s reaction too.” He ran a hand over his hair and his expression softened. She had lost him to the past. “But they had ordered the destruction of a settlement. I’d always followed orders and I’ve committed atrocities.” His mouth hardened. “But nursing women and their babies? There was no way in hell I was going through with that order. Every soldier was with me.

“We protected the settlement from our own weapons and attack craft until the Caraniae forces arrived.”

“You fired on your own men?”

Tyler’s face was bleak. “Yes.” He let out a slow breath. “I was lucky to escape execution.”

Scar knew the rumours of the Corps’ harshness. “Yes. How did you?”

“I have a very influential family. They wanted to avoid the shame. Anyway, the action divided the Caraniae, with one half baying for blood over the Corps’ battle plan and the other half honouring us for our actions. It opened a dialogue.” He shrugged. “There was a cessation of hostilities. Mostly. And two months after that, we achieved peace. I served a seven-month sentence in prison and they buried all knowledge of Vistern Ridge.”

“So Rilean was on the honouring side?”

Tyler’s laugh was bitter. “No. He wanted to carry on the war. But he spared me today because his sister was one of the women in the settlement.”

Scar rubbed her hands together. She’d never wondered over the reason for Tyler’s imprisonment. The Corps was brutal; he could’ve served time for a sloppy uniform. Her tongue wet her dry lips. “It wasn’t that.”

“What’s worse than a Corps officer firing on his own men?”

“A Corps officer who has Caraniae ancestry?”

Tyler stared at her. “That’s impossible.” He turned to his reflection caught in the silvered trim of the medical canopy. He leaned in close and pulled at his cheek. “Of course I’m human. I was in the Corps.”

“A paternal great-grandmother.” Scar flicked on the images her mother had shown her, pointing out the red flaring through his DNA. “Your family hasn’t been human for quite some time.”

She didn’t know what she’d expected as his reaction, but it hadn’t been a burst of loud laughter. “You mean my father is a quarter Caraniae? And he knows this?”

“Yes.”

“He knows? You’re sure?”

Scar slid her arm around his waist and pushed her fingers over his spine. Through the smooth fabric, she traced over the scar at the end of his tailbone. Tyler’s hands slipped over her waist. “You had a tail when you were born.”

He blinked. “I had a tail?” He spluttered a laugh. “This is… I’m part Caraniae.” His eyes held hers and she saw realisation settle in his thoughts. She pushed down the surge of panic. “I’m part Caraniae.”

“Yes.”

A delicious smile curled his mouth and made Scar’s heart pound. “I’m stuck with you?” His hands slid lower, curving over her buttocks. He squeezed and she glared at him. “All mine,” he said.

“Maybe.”

The dark shine to his eyes had her grinning. “Are you going to start that again, Scar?”

“Did we ever stop?”

“Well…no.”

He lifted her and positioned her on the soft padding of the medical bed. Parting her legs, he leaned in close. “But I do think I promised that we would have words about your laughing at me.”

His mouth moved over hers, his words burning against her lips. Scar closed her eyes and let the relief sink through her. He had accepted her…accepted them. “You laughed at me.”

“Yes, but I had to watch others slaver over you.”

Scar smiled innocently. “Did they?”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed and he traced his tongue along the edge of her jaw. He nipped her skin and she hissed. “No, not tasting anyone else. Good girl.”

His patronising tone burst a rush of anger through her gut. “They didn’t get that far up my body…”

The fury in his gaze almost stopped her heart. “You know I’ll have to punish any indiscretion.”

His low, smooth voice pulsed through her pelvis and instinct pushed her hard against him. His erection rubbed against her tight flesh. “I doubt you could—”

His mouth took hers, hard and sweet and… Scar groaned as the kiss softened, his hand running slow over her spine. Tyler’s fingers slid over the front of her shirt, parting the soft fabric and cupping her breast. His calloused thumb tip circled her nipple, a gentle yet relentless pressure that had her body on fire.

His light touch stroked down over her ribs, pushing away more of her shirt. “How much are you mine, Scar?”

His breath brushed her lips and already her flesh flickered with the first pulse of orgasm. “Body…” She swallowed and held his liquid-black gaze. Her heart hammered. “Body and soul.”

Tyler’s smile dropped heat through her body. Her thighs tightened against his hips, and she rubbed herself hard against him. “Just as you should be,” he murmured and his searching fingers slid lower until he dipped a finger through her wetness and found her clitoris. He flicked and her whole body bucked. “For a moment on the sand, I thought I’d lost you.” Another finger slipped into her and she clenched around him. A wave of sweetness surged through her flesh and she gasped. “Thought I’d lost everything.”

“Tyler…”

But his fingers ignored her interruption, slipping, sliding with increasing pressure until light sparked behind her eyes.

“I belong to you, Scar. I will always belong to you.”

The honesty in his eyes had her heart pattering. Her mouth dried. Tenderness was still new and rare…and then Scar had to remind herself that their relationship was little more than twenty-four hours old. It seemed odd. Her body felt as if it had known him forever. He would be hers for the rest of her life. A lump formed in her throat. That surety tightened her chest.

Her head tilted. “Prove it.” A smile curved and she watched Tyler’s pupils dilate. Scar pushed her hand between them, deftly working his cock free. She rubbed her thumb over its head.

Tyler’s hand covered hers and guided his penis slowly, so slowly over her slick pussy, pushing, pushing until he slid deep within her. He tilted his hips and the frisson bled heat up her body. His hands framed her face. “Enough for you?”

With a grin, she squeezed her muscles around him and he let out a low, satisfied groan that ran a shiver over her skin. “Maybe.”

Tyler pressed a kiss to her mouth. “Maybe?” His hands returned to her buttocks and urged her hard against him. Scar gasped and he grinned. “Still maybe?”

“I may need—”

Tyler growled and nipped at her neck, the sudden attack curling tension low in her belly. “Lean back.”

She dropped her hands back on the bed and arched her spine. The change of position… She sighed. Oh, that was nice. Tyler grabbed the edge of the bed and thrust hard. Her legs gripped him, urged him. She held his gaze, revelling in the predatory gleam, the need and satisfaction surging through him. She was his. Always.

The edge of orgasm tightened her flesh. He just had to… Harder. His eyes had closed, crushed tight. Faster. There. A wave of heat and ecstasy smashed over her. Tyler’s body pressed against hers and she met his ferocious mouth as he found his own release. The kiss eased into a tender tasting, nibbling, and Scar sighed.

She ran a hand through his short hair. “Rochester’s going to be annoyed.”

Tyler pulled back. He blinked. “Iain?”

“Well, we’re going to be annoying.”

He laughed and helped her to sit up. Absently, he rearranged her clothes, fastening the open shirt of her suit. The attention was strangely endearing. “Yes, we are.”

Scar jumped down from the bed and took Tyler’s hand in hers. She squeezed it and fought the need to say “mine” again. But he was. And always would be. She doubted the hot satisfaction of that would ever get old. “So you think we’re safe to be in public yet?”

Tyler smirked at her and brought her hand to his lips. A light kiss brushed her knuckles, easing a drop of pure liquid heat low into her belly. “I think we might be safer hiding in your room for, what…another week?”

“A week?” She heard the strain in her voice. “A week sounds about right.”

Destiny lies along an uncharted course…

Paranormal Payload

Project Exorcism, Book 1

Long ago, the Commission thought it had succeeded in ridding Earth of all supernatural beings. They were dead wrong. The supernaturals have not only survived the cold reaches of space, they have thrived. And grown more powerful.

Commission Captain Sevan Vasil has enough problems without the strange, erotic dreams that seem to be his mind’s version of a cruel joke. No woman could be that perfect a lover…except perhaps a mate. That’s the joke—no woman alive would dare answer a lion-shifter’s call. Until sassy, raven-haired Lorelei Janelle appears on his communication screen. The familiar face and angelic voice are straight out of his dreams.

Lorelei’s gut tells her not to let Sevan’s damaged vessel anywhere near her uncharted planet, but her hormones overrule her head. The all-too-cocky, all-too-sexy captain is all she ever wanted—and everything it’s not safe to have. Getting him and his crew safely off the planet before the planet’s ruling vampire sorcerer awakes will be nip and tuck.

Getting Sevan out of her heart…impossible.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Paranormal Payload:

Lorelei watched in horror as her own sister shot Sevan. “Why?”

Nina glanced down at her and offered a small smile. “Lorelei, he agreed ahead of time. He told me to shoot him between the eyes if needed. At least I used a tranquilizer and not a real bullet. Christian and Jordan will be along soon. They’ll carry…”

Something was horribly wrong. The feeling of evil seemed to close in on them. Lorelei struggled to her feet, grabbing hold of Nina’s arm for help. “They’ve found me.”

“I know.” Nina glanced towards Sevan’s lifeless body, looking as though she regretted her decision of knocking him out.

The smell of a werewolf and something else, something familiar, threatening and close. Lorelei drew in a sharp breath. “Samson.”

Nina lunged for Sevan and Lorelei grabbed hold of her, afraid that she was going to try to finish what she started. “No.”

“Let go! He can’t defend himself.”

“Oh, I thought…” She stopped not wanting to accuse her own flesh and blood of trying something so heinous.

“Lorelei,” Nina said, softly. “Do you love Sevan?”

“Yes.”

“He says that he won’t leave, Lorelei. That he’ll stay and stand by his family’s side.”

Lorelei held tight to her sister as she drew on the power of the earth, the Shamenian spirits of long ago and of the werepanther within her. Power surged through her veins, harder and faster than it ever had before. Her breathing quickened and her heart raced. “By gods, I think the baby is powerful as well.”

Nina nodded. “Of course—she’s a Janelle.”

“She?”

“Just being hopeful. We have enough boys in the family.”

Not wanting to think of her brothers who had been forced off the planet long ago, Lorelei simply smiled, feeling invigorated and up to the task of fighting even the greatest of Stegian’s warriors. Even if that meant fighting the man she used to love.

A dark mass leaped out from the tree line and something swooshed past them quickly. The moment Lorelei saw the silver dipped arrow sticking out of a now dead werecougar’ s chest, she knew Christian and back-up had arrived.

Nina wasted no time. She let her claws emerge and her eyes swirl to light blue. She took off, running straight ahead, clearly sensing something. Before Lorelei could comment, Jordan appeared next to her.

He glanced at Sevan and his brow furrowed. “He’s not…”

“No,” Lorelei said quickly. “He’s just sedated. He started to shift and Nina shot him with a tranquilizer gun.”

“In the middle of a battle? Is the woman mad?” He put his hand through his hair and then gritted his teeth. “Of course she is.”

“In her defense, she shot him before the enemy arrived.”

He tossed his hands in the air. “Well then, that makes it all better.” He looked around frantically. “Where the hell did she go? Is she trying to get herself killed?”

A blur moved at them fast. In a flash, a fully shifted weretiger had its teeth sank deep into Jordan’s arm. Fearing that Jordan would lose his arm if she didn’t act quickly, Lorelei let the power that had been building within her loose. It slammed into Jordan and then his attacker.

Both men went to the ground fast. Lorelei held her breath, fearing she’d killed Jordan by accident. She reached for him, hoping he still had a pulse. Something dropped down on her, smashing her body to the ground. Crying out wasn’t an option. Whatever was on her had knocked the wind out her.

“That was bad, Lorelei, running out before we were finished,” Samson said, pressing his body against hers.

“Get off of her!”

The sound of Christian’s voice should have been music to her ears but not now. Not when Samson was so close. The last time they’d been face to face, Christian almost lost his battle to remain on the side of good.

“Ah, if it isn’t my baby brother.” Samson pinned her even harder. “Tell me, do you think you are finally strong enough to defeat me?”

“Not alone but together with my new friend, I think we will manage just fine,” Christian said.

New friend?

Something growled, its voice deep, making the ground around her vibrate. That wasn’t a panther. No. That was a lion. “Sevan!”

Instantly, Samson was thrust clear of her body. As Lorelei went to roll over, the pain in her leg reached new levels causing her to bite her lip as tears dripped down her cheeks.

A ringing started in her ears and a light tingling sensation surrounded her. “Sleep, Lorelei. Sleep. All will end well here. I promise. I will watch over them all.”

She shook her head. “Stegian can control animals and Christian can’t…”

“Lorelei, Samson is no longer a threat. Christian saw to that.”

The news did nothing to calm her. It broke her heart knowing Christian had to be the one to stop his brother.

Jacquelyn sighed. “Had anyone else taken Samson’s life, Christian would have forever hated them. He knew deep down that he had no choice. And Stegian doesn’t seem to be able to control Sevan regardless what form he’s in. That man is stubborn, sister. A perfect match for you.” The soothing sound of Jacquelyn’s voice coaxed her into a relaxed state allowing much needed rest to occur.

Easy part of his day? Resurrecting the dead. Hard part? Keeping them alive.

Weaving Words

Kaede is a witch whose family has been bound to a powerful House for over a thousand years. And he hates it. Despite the fact that his lord, Tarou, murdered his mother, Kaede is sworn never to harm the man who could kill him with just seven words. Now he’s been commanded to use his unique powers to resurrect Tarou’s wife from the dead, and he has no choice but to comply. Things go horribly wrong when he accidentally pulls the wrong soul back. Now it’s not just his own life he must try to save.

Vara’s day couldn’t get much more bizarre. One moment she’s a captain in the Temple Guard. The next, she finds herself transported into a world of magic and witches—and stuffed into the body of a lord’s wife. Unwillingly plunged into middle of a deadly power struggle, the only one Vara can turn to is Kaede, the witch responsible for dragging her into this alien world. A witch she finds far too attractive…

Warning: This book contains the following; magic, witches and more body-swapping than is safely sane.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Weaving Words:

Vara closed the door to the bedroom. Nerves had her leaning back against the cool wood. It was odd when she had propositioned him…twice. She shouldn’t be nervous; she felt deep down in her gut that she didn’t get nervous. It was just sex. Old knowledge burst over her…and as a captain, she took a potion that guarded her against disease and pregnancy.

She stared down at the scarlet robe, its silk shimmering in the light from the narrow window. However, she was not in her body. Was that why she was anxious?

Kaede stood beside the bed, his hands knotted and white. He looked more nervous than she did.

Vara ran the back of her hand over her mouth and wiped off the foul grease the maid painted there. They didn’t have time for this. “Kaede, can you get me out of these clothes?”

His smile was brief and he waved for her to turn around. “I can try.”

With a few deft pulls, the belt loosened and Vara let out her first full breath in hours. The belt dropped to the floor. She had to resist the temptation to stomp on it. “So much better.”

He laughed and slid warm hands over her hips and waist. “Yes.” He unfastened the thin belts under her breasts and pulled apart the robe, sliding it from her shoulders to drop to a puddle of cloth at her feet. “Turn around, Vara.”

The curls of gold in her hair clinked as she turned to face him. His fingers worked at the last knot of her tunic and she smiled at the look of concentration on his face. “I used to be easier to undress.”

Kaede’s mouth twitched, shifting into a grin when the knot slid free. He tugged the hem upward and Vara obediently lifted her arms. She shook her hair free. “I’d say this is fairly easy.” Her trews dropped to the floor. “Yes, very easy.” His hand framed her jaw, his thumb tracing over her lip. “Do you feel undressed enough now?”

She licked his thumb and grinned. “Perhaps.” She pushed Kaede towards the high bed; his legs hit the edge of the mattress and he sank down. Stepping close, she ran her fingers through his hair. He watched her, his dark eyes intense, and Vara had the uneasy feeling he was trying to burn the memory of her into his thoughts. “We have now, Kaede. I know the weaving may not work…and even if it does, I can’t imagine you here with Tarou.”

“No.” A brief smile pulled at his mouth. “His rooms are in the western wing.”

Vara growled at him.

Kaede laughed and slid warm hands around her waist, pulling her to him. He rested his head against her breasts and his slow sigh stirred her skin. “I can’t promise anything, Vara.”

The rhythm of his slow strokes over the hollow of her spine slid an easy heat through her flesh. She closed her eyes. “I know.”

His hands stilled. “He killed my mother.”

Vara’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry, Kaede.”

He let out a hot breath and it prickled her skin. Kaede looked up and, for a long moment, Vara let herself sink into the liquid black of his gaze. The tug was there between them, an instant lust, perhaps in time something more and there too, the knowledge of the life they should’ve had.

Yet as she’d said, they had now. And now would have to do.

Vara twitched a smile as his fingers curved around her buttocks. With a wink, his tongue curled against her nipple. She gasped, arching into his mouth. “Shouldn’t you lose some clothes?” Kaede didn’t seem to be listening as his fingers slid between her thighs and rubbed in exactly the right way. Vara groaned, pressing his head against her breast. “Clothes, Kaede.”

He pulled his mouth away from her breast with a deliberate pop, yanked his linen tunic over his head, and dropped it to the floor. His undershirt followed. Vara ran a hesitant finger over his collarbone, tracing over the curves of a spiralling tattoo. Kaede’s skin was warm and smooth, but the ink drawn against his flesh pulsed beneath her touch. More tattoos swept over his torso. “They’re beautiful,” she murmured.

“My mark as a witch.” He unstrapped and tugged off his boots and shrugged out of his breeches. Kaede undid the ribbons holding up her long silk socks. “I was tempted to keep these.”

Vara ran her hand over his muscled leg, her thumb pressing his inner thigh. “They look better on me.”

“You’re funny, Vara.”

She smirked at him. “I try.”

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.