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  Were the Freeber tribe as war-like as Maaka? She frowned. There had been an evasive note in his voice when he’d spoken of the other race. What hadn’t he told her?

  The large hairy animal beside her thumped its tail. It whined and flattened its ears, its eyes fixed on something behind her. She twisted her body to spy two male warriors, striding towards her, and stared, transfixed.

  The one slightly in the lead had to be her saviour or captor of the night previous. His stride was a touch more arrogant and the straight shoulders exuded a confidence found in those born to lead. With no hood shrouding his face she was surprised at how pleasing she found him. His features were strong rather than handsome, with a bold, curved nose, square jaw line and clearly defined brows.

  As the men came closer, she noticed peculiar blue patterns edging their face. She wondered at their significance. Religious symbols, perhaps, or a sign of manhood. Both of the men were bald. Did they shave the hair from their heads? Were they born that way?

  Her stomach clenched. Or had they been bred that way?

  Her gaze skittered away from the leader’s compelling stare, travelled a path down a thickly muscled body marked with old scars and a fresh cut across the expanse of his chest. When she looked at his forearm and noticed an angry red line, she remembered how she had slashed at him and squirmed a little with guilt. She lowered her gaze, swallowing over the unwanted heat blooming under her chest bone. From his wide leather belt hung various crude weapons. He wore loose fitted trousers and a leather pouch which emphasised rather than hid his manly attributes. He engendered fantasies that had no place in her life.

  She turned her back and busied herself with checking her tubes of ointments and potions before securing them in her bag. When he reached her side, Maaka clicked his tongue at the animal which subsided, laying its head on its paws.

  ‘I have brought you food.’ He crouched beside her, his bulk casting a protective shadow from the heat searing off the concrete, and proffered a cracked platter.

  In answer her stomach growled.

  He laughed as his gaze caught hers. A hungry promise glowed in his eyes. Snared by the heat blazing from eyes the blue-purple colour of her royal house, her pulse triggered and her body trembled with a simmering need.

  He reached out and ran the calloused pad of his thumb across her forehead and down one side of her face. The dull throb behind her temples dissipated.

  Could he be a healer? Not a warrior? In wonder she stared back at him, watching the corners of his mouth quirk and deepen with his smile. Her heart lifted with light and hope.

  Dismayed, she jerked her face from his touch, aware as she did so, of his smile fading. Displeasure furrowed lines across his brow.

  ‘Since she does not like you, Maaka, can I have her?’

  Sherise snapped her gaze to the other warrior and glared at him. The admiring glint in his pale-green eyes sent heat flushing her face.

  ‘Neither of you may have me.’ She used her most imperial tone, glacial and remote.

  Maaka thrust the platter under her chin. ‘Your food.’

  Her nose twitched as the scent of warm yeasty bread hit her lungs. This time, she took the offering. She forced herself to hesitate and finger the contents of the plate as if the basic fare was too lowly for her to contemplate eating. With feigned reluctance, she chose a minute portion of the dark brown bread and popped it into her mouth.

  Maaka’s gaze never left her face.

  ‘We will leave you to your meal. When you have finished, call and I will return to assist you down the stairs.’ He rose to his feet, towering over her like a dark, dangerous storm.

  Her gaze lingered on his wounds. She bit down hard to stop the offer of assistance trembling on her tongue.

  He strode off, his friend at his side. Sherise stared at his receding back as she polished off most of the bread.

  Yes, that was definitely a pattern of some kind covering the dark-gold skin of his skull. It ran along the width of his shoulders, tracing the length of his spine to stop at the top of his taut buttocks outlined by the thin material of his pants. Before entering the stairwell, he turned. She ducked her head, unhappily aware he had caught her lingering glance and noticed the heat in her face.

  Clutched in her tight fists, the bread had been reduced to the consistency of dough.

  She threw the remainder to the hairy animal that snapped it down with eager teeth. The wrinkled skin and sickly sweet scent of the remaining fruit proclaimed its overripeness but she munched away, only too thankful to fill her belly.

  Delicious. She chugged down water from the animal bladder beside the bed and wasted time rolling the furs up and tidying the small space she had inhabited. Anything to stop the gnawing guilt when she remembered his injuries.

  Considering the primitive living conditions here, he could fall ill and die. All for the lack of medical attention.

  By the stars! This is not my problem. She frowned. He had a healer’s touch. Surely he would have attended his own hurts?

  A Darkon is always considerate of the needs of others.

  Annoyed with her constant recollection of the duty instilled in her since the day she first drew breath, she rose and carefully tested her ankle before allowing her injured foot to take her full weight. The pain was bearable, which was lucky considering she had no intention of calling for assistance. After a quick check to ensure she had all her possessions, she crossed the roof to the edge of the building.

  The rising sun illuminated the devastation of a land ravaged by long periods of war and fierce weather. If she blurred her eyes, she could imagine how impressive the country had once been with its thick jungle of immense structures intertwined with a maze of roads and patches of those tall plants Bree called trees. With their blackened trunks, shattered and bare, they reminded her of skeletons. Beyond the city lay plains flanked by shadowed mountains, their high jagged peaks outlined by the sun. To the right, row after row of countless windmills stood motionless.

  Sherise pursed her lips. Were they used for energy or pumping water? Who used them now or did they stand idle because there was no longer the knowledge or the materials to operate them? She recalled how the same technology had been utilised on the many mining moons in the Darkos system. There was an impression of another city beyond, but so far away it was hard to discern. It appeared to shimmer on the horizon.

  The Fortress perhaps?

  At least she had her bearings now. If it was necessary, she was certain she could find her way back to the shuttle when it was time for her leave.

  Something breathed with short quick pants close by.

  That hairy creature stood at her side, sniffing the hot air. When their eyes met, it wagged its tail in rapid motion side to side.

  Sherise stretched out a cautious hand and touched the top of its head. The were-dog snuffled and leaned its considerable weight against her leg. Surprisingly, the gesture banished a little of the loneliness she dared not acknowledge.

  A wry smile twisted her lips. ‘We have intel to gather. Let’s get to work.’

  She clicked her fingers, pleased when the were-dog followed her as she headed for the stairs.

  Chapter 10

  Away from the glare of the sun, it appeared impossibly dark in the stairwell. She shivered a little as cool air enveloped her. She groped a hand along the wall to guide her steps until her eyes adjusted to the gloom. By the time she reached the next level her ankle pulsed with a dull ache, making her wish she had swallowed her pride and waited for Maaka to carry her down. The thought evaporated, however, when she made eye contact with him. A perverse satisfaction filled her at his scowl. By sheer effort of will, she controlled her limp as she strolled towards him. He stood with his arms folded across a chest so broad and sculptured she had to clench her hands into fists to stop them from touching that expanse of bronzed skin.

  Not for me.

  The sound of a quickly indrawn breath caught her attention.

  ‘Sherise!’ s
hrieked Bree.

  Her friend cannoned into her and Sherise enfolded her in her arms with tight ferocity. Thank you, Cercis. She squeezed her eyes shut to stem the flow of tears welling behind her lids. Even as she did so, fear gripped her as an unwelcome knowledge settled like stone in her mind. She had been so focussed on the warrior she had been oblivious to everything else.

  Maintain focus. There is nothing for me here.

  You are wrong. I will gain great pleasure in proving this to you.

  She shuddered, horrified at the amount of effort it took to dislodge him from her mind.

  ‘Gosh, I’m so happy you’re okay. Maaka said you were fine, but I couldn’t believe it until I saw for myself,’ Bree babbled, her face wreathed in smiles. She stepped back and examined Sherise with a critical eye.

  Sherise noted the genuine worry reflected in her friend’s face and squeezed her hands reassuringly. ‘What happened? Did you find …?’

  Bree nodded. Her gaze dropped to the floor. ‘There is nothing left for me here but my memories.’ She swallowed. ‘Kondo caught up with me when some crazed zombie guys attacked.’

  The Relic warrior appeared at their side and shrugged. ‘There were many, but we prevailed with a little help from your new friend’s fighters.’ He indicated his men, some still asleep and others squatting on the floor, breaking their fast with the Lycaneans.

  The comparison between the two races was cruel; one clad in Relic armour and the other in rough trousers. And yet, despite obvious deprivations, like the lack of good food and medicine, the Lycaneans matched her people in stature. Now that was odd. The word … ‘bred’… snuck into her mind. Had Maaka been telling her the truth?

  ‘I am pleased that both my women are undamaged.’ Kondo rocked back on his feet and smirked.

  Sherise hissed in a sharp breath, biting back words of reprimand. She dug her fingers into her friend’s wrist in warning and managed a submissive nod, aware of Maaka’s watchful gaze. Let him think she was promised to another. Perhaps then he would cease his attentions and she could get on with her mission, undistracted.

  ‘Both? I doubt it.’ The Lycanean leader paced forward to stand behind her. Unseen by the others, he stroked the length of her hair.

  So much for that idea! By an extreme effort of will she managed not to lean into his touch and instead moved aside, dislodging his hand.

  Kondo’s eyes narrowed with sudden suspicion. ‘Why are you here?’

  ‘To rescue you of course,’ Sherise said, drily.

  Kondo muttered, ‘Our shuttle suffered system failure and we were only able to send the one distress call.’

  ‘I know.’ Sherise lowered her voice. ‘Our shuttle also could not get any messages out once we were on the ground near your crash site.’

  ‘You still evade my question.’

  Sherise sighed, wondering how she could answer without arousing any further ire on Kondo’s part towards Bree. She could tell by their stiff body language and the way the both avoided the other’s eye, matters were not good between them. Perhaps a half-truth would suffice. ‘Intel gathering.’

  ‘No need to concern yourself, the woman was with me.’ Maaka smiled, his gaze fixed firmly on the other man.

  Kondo scowled.

  ‘He saved me from a flying predator and then we had to take shelter from the storm,’ Sherise said.

  ‘You were with him all night.’

  His hand dropped over the butt of his plitza gun and Sherise hastened into speech. ‘I was sleeping, Kondo. Now, are there any wounded? I have my shayote and medical supplies.’

  He cocked an eyebrow and drawled, ‘I wondered when you would remember your duties. Several were wounded, both Lycaneans and Relics.’

  Sherise grabbed her outraged friend’s arm and dragged her away.

  ‘Who does he think he is? I don’t know how you put up with him. Pity Tarak made him your bodyguard,’ Bree grumbled.

  ‘I know he can be overbearing, but I believe in this case he is attempting to protect both of us, so be careful what you say.’ Sherise knelt on the cold tiled floor and smiled at a wounded soldier. ‘Do you have your pack with you, Bree?’ She fished out her shayote.

  ‘Always.’ Her friend smiled grimly and flipped open her satchel, then rummaged amongst the contents. She knelt on the other side of the warrior and waited.

  The wounds the Relics had sustained were not serious, for which Sherise sent a thankful prayer to Cercis. She left the anointing of potions to Bree and turned her attention to the three Lycaneans who had come to Kondo’s aid.

  A brutal battle. She continued to interpret the data from the shayote she waved over a seriously damaged warrior. The type of creature that could inflict such injuries must be incredibly savage. Her stomach churned. It had to be the Half-dead and she hoped she’d never meet one face-to-face.

  She injected a pain med into the injured solder’s thigh. The wounded man was semi-conscious but made no sound or cry of pain. Despite herself, such stoic courage impressed her.

  All lay quietly resigned and heartbreakingly grateful for whatever ease she could offer. What surprised her was their lack of wariness at her alien technology. A fact that only fed her curiosity about these people.

  And her suspicions.

  She examined the room. This level must be the main living area, for many beds of furs lined the floor. In an alcove was a hearth with an immense cauldron suspended by a metal brace. She compressed her lips at the spartan conditions and beat down the depressing thought that this could well be the only life that was left for her. If they failed to repair the Quinnie, if this planet erupted into war and the dome was destroyed …

  No comfort and little protection for these people with nought but crumbling walls and gaping holes; an open invitation to the fury of the elements and any flying predators. It was such a contrast to the parks, gardens and architecturally pleasing buildings in the Central Fortress. How could the Purideans force these people to live like this when they, themselves, had access to virtual luxury in comparison?

  No wonder Maaka was determined to improve his people’s way of life.

  She shuddered, longing for her snug cabin on board the Quinnie, but her return to the ship would have to wait.

  She tapped a sequence into the shayote. While she waited for the new data to stream, she stole another glance about the room. Those warriors not sleeping were sharpening and inspecting various weapons and conversing in low tones. Were there no women or children of their species? Where were the rest of the men? By her reckoning there were more beds than soldiers. Did they hunt for food? Were they guarding the building?

  ‘Can you help him?’

  Maaka’s composed voice interrupted her musings. She hastily returned her attention to the scanner, but his closeness distracted her. The warmth of his body seeped through her clothes and heated her cool skin. She knew if she turned her head, she would find him a hand’s width behind her.

  He crouched.

  A tremble quaked her limbs when she saw his thickly corded thighs either side of her. Trapping or protecting her? If she pressed her back against his hard chest with all those deliciously rough hairs, would he slide his large hands over her ribcage, her belly, her breasts?

  Soon.

  Never. Sherise snapped straight. She fixed her attention on the data, willing her silly desires into oblivion. Speeding them on their way with a hastily chanted prayer.

  Concentrate.

  ‘There is always hope.’ She found the fallen soldier’s stare fixed with painful intensity on her face. Smiling, she reached out to place a bandage over the open wound with a gentle hand. ‘There is a small medie tube on the shuttle but I would prefer not to move him any more than we have to. Kondo,’ unconsciously she raised her voice in command, unheeding of Maaka’s proximity, ‘… we need the shuttle here. Are you able to raise her? If not, send one of your men.’

  Kondo barked out orders. The heavy tramp of his footsteps crossing the floor caused her to turn her
head. His forehead was etched with a black frown. His gaze riveted to Maaka. Quickly, she moved well out of reach of both males and hastened to the injured man’s other side.

  She fixed Maaka with an imperious stare and held his gaze. ‘We need fresh water.’

  His expression shadowed, he slowly inclined his head and motioned to some of his men. They marched from the room.

  ‘Not now, Kondo,’ she said as her bodyguard opened his mouth to speak. She dismissed him and everything else from her mind to concentrate on the men who needed her hard-won healing skills.

  ***

  The day was well advanced before the men were out of danger. With regular sessions in the medie tube, all should survive. Unable to communicate with neither the shuttle nor the Quinnie, Kondo had obeyed her order and dispatched one of his men on foot. A short time later the undamaged shuttle had touched down in a fairly cleared area in front of Maaka’s headquarters. The Captain had emerged, plitza in hand, until Sherise had taken him aside. In a few short sentences, she’d advised him of the situation and told both him and Kondo of her intentions of discovering more about these people. Neither had been happy with her decision but had agreed the opportunity was too good not to take advantage of.

  But first, Sherise had been determined to help the wounded.

  Leaving Bree in charge of supervising the wounded soldiers’ rotation in the chamber, Sherise climbed down the steps of the shuttle and pressed her knuckles against her aching back.

  No sooner had her feet hit the ground, than Maaka stalked towards her. She fought back the heat that gathered beneath her skin at his intent regard and wrenched her eyes away to examine her surroundings with feigned interest; pretending she was not fascinated with his arrogant grace, the swing of his narrow hips …

  He planted himself directly in front of her.

  Immediately, she checked out his wounds. They were no longer raw but beginning to heal. The tension contracting her shoulders relaxed. He continued to stand there, legs apart, shoulders back, chest puffed out. His gloriously naked chest. An expanse of golden-brown hair glittered from the rays of the sun and arrowed her eyes lower to his belly. To where her gaze had no right to go.