Her Robot Wolf: Gift of Gaia

by Jenny Schwartz

  “And a shifter can only mate with another full-shifter.”

  “Or a half-shifter who is also a shaman,” Vulf said. The hand he’d flattened against the viewscreen curled into a fist. He tapped the viewscreen, a thoughtful thud-thud.

  I wrapped my arms around myself, aware that it was a self-protective giveaway in terms of body language, but I was feeling vulnerable. “Could the mating heat flare even if we can’t connect as mates?” As reckless and vibrantly alive as the mating heat had made me feel, if it couldn’t deliver on its promise of a true mate, then it was a cruel trick of fate; this tempting me to hope for an intimate, forever kind of connection.

  “The mating heat isn’t inescapable.” Vulf took a step forward, then locked his legs. Whether that was to stop himself from reaching for me or from retreating was unclear. “I’ve heard of shifters who’ve encountered the mating heat with five different potential partners before settling with the last.”

  “Have you ever?” I had to clear my throat.

  He took the last two steps, closing the distance between us. “No. I’ve never felt the mating heat before.”

  My arms relaxed, dropping to my sides as I no longer huddled self-defensively.

  He cupped the balls of my shoulders, thumbs sliding along the muscles and tendons. It was an awkward, odd, effective caress.

  I leaned into him.

  His hands slid down my back before he hugged me to him. His voice rumbled. “The mating heat is an invitation. You can always choose.”

  I shuddered at how good it felt to feel him against me, and to run my hands over the muscles of his back and feel his response. “The little bit I read on the mating heat made it sound as if shifters took it as a sign of a fated match.”

  “Many do.” He turned us so that he leaned against the viewscreen, the darkness of space behind him, and I stood in the V of his legs. His chest muscles were every bit as awesome as his back ones as I touched and stroked. “Shifters are a superstitious lot. Given that many of us never experience a mating heat, those that do often don’t want to risk refusing a mate identified by one. There are stories…” He looked at me questioningly.

  “I haven’t heard them.”

  He kissed me softly.

  Contentment melted the tension from my body. I floated in the kiss.

  “There are stories of true mates developing special talents.” He caressed me leisurely, as if he could do so all day, learning my body. “Telepathy, enhanced strength when the other was threatened, more powerful children.”

  A tremor started low in me at the thought of bearing Vulf’s children. Having never known my own mother, and growing up at the Academy, I’d never considered myself maternal. The tremor built until it perceptibly shook me. Perhaps I was wrong. It felt like I wanted children; as if it was a desire I’d hidden even from myself.

  Vulf’s hand covered my flat stomach, pressing low over the source of the tremor. “You would be an amazing mom.” It was as if he read my mind.

  “Telepathy already?” I teased shakily.

  He stole the tease from my lips, kissing me with growing hunger. Where he’d been gentle, now raw need was breaking through his tender touches. “A final reason shifters tend to partner among ourselves is because we age slower and live longer than other humans.”

  “It’s the same for shamans.” I kissed him. For all that we needed to talk, the fervor of the mating heat made me want to kiss instead. And not just kiss.

  “But you’ll be a Shaman Justice.” His hands froze at my hips.

  “I mightn’t be. I might choose otherwise.”

  He sighed. “With your level of talent, they won’t let you choose otherwise.”

  The two current Shaman Justices were single. As had been the four before them. It was a solitary, itinerant role.

  Vulf eased me away from him.

  The slight rejection made my whole body go cold, then flush with shamed heat for the fact that even then, I still wanted him. I still clung to him. Hastily, I lifted my hands from his chest and backtracked, skirting the coffee table and dropping down onto the sofa.

  Vulf’s gaze tracked me. His face was a mask of control, but one where anguish bled through. “Once a shifter takes a mate, that’s it. I won’t be able to bond with anyone else. Even if you’re forced, instead, to choose to be a Shaman Justice, I’d be yours.”

  Mine. To have Vulf as my own. His laughter, honor, strength and loyalty. The thought was as compelling—no, more powerful—than even the mating heat. I had been alone my entire life. Vulf represented a chance to change that utterly, if I convinced him to take me as his mate.

  And I could convince him. The knowledge hung between us. It was present in how determinedly he leaned against the viewscreen. Physically, we were aroused. If we gave the same consent emotionally, the mate bond would lock into place. Vulf would be mine. “I’d be yours.”

  The muscles of his neck and shoulders tautened at my whispered comment. “Jaya?”

  “There’s been an explosion on Station Folly,” Ahab interrupted.

  I jumped. “Have you been listening to us?”

  “No. I ordered privacy,” Vulf said. “Details about Station Folly, Ahab.” The emotion in his eyes ad face blanked.

  I was brutally reminded that more than my shamanic talent and half-shifter status stood between us. There was also the question of Ivan, the old man’s plans, and the million solidus bounty Vulf was determined to collect.

  I took a shaky breath as Ahab relayed what information he’d managed to gather off the net.

  “Twelve minutes ago a shipyard on Station Folly exploded. Three tramp ships and a shuttle detonated in the explosion. The authorities, such as they are, anticipated a larger pattern of devastation given the brightness and impact—”

  “Do you have surveillance footage of it, Ahab?” I interrupted unceremoniously.

  “Poor quality. I scraped it off a starship captain’s upload of his ship’s security camera.”

  A grainy picture flickered up on the viewscreen.

  Vulf and I stood side by side watching the image. Initially, the scene resembled that of any dockyard on a multitude of independent stations. Then an explosion detonated behind the oldest and shabbiest of the tramp ships. The footage flickered. When it steadied, light bloomed high above the starship dockyard.

  “A sha explosion,” Vulf said. “Like on Tyger Tyger. Ivan triggered a portal.”

  I nodded. “Ivan didn’t go to Station Folly to buy an unregistered starship. He had a portal set up there.”

  “And you can’t trace a portal.” Vulf remembered what I’d told him after Ivan’s first portal.

  “It’s impossible. The portal obliterates its passage even as it creates it through the sha field. Ivan really is trying to hide.” Which underlined my suspicions that Ivan wasn’t simply on the run. If he was, he’d have gone underground somewhere. No, it seemed more and more likely that Ivan was revisiting his original failed attempt to steal from the Meitj. “Vulf, what did Ivan try to steal from the Meitj Emperor?”

  “The Imperial Crown.”

  I wobbled and he put a supportive arm around me.

  “Do you have any portals set up?”

  I shook my head, before remembering. “One. At the Academy. I set it up as a training exercise and never used it. To me, they’re a waste of sha energy.”

  “Unless you’re someone like Ivan and need to cover your tracks.”

  I winced. “Yeah.” Internally, a voice was screaming. My insane grandfather had tried to steal the Meitj Imperial Crown—was still trying, I assumed.

  The mating heat between Vulf and me, the chance to identify my father via a blood test, even my likely future as a Shaman Justice, a fate I’d successfully not thought about for five years, all faded as the full horror of Ivan’s thievish ambition stood revealed.

  The Meitj were one of the original sentient species that founded the Galaxy Proper. Renowned for their trading ability, they had even been mentioned on
Earth well before humanity entered into official communication with the Galaxy Proper. “Insectoid aliens,” they’d been called then. They’d been humanity’s idea of aliens; a concept generated by random sightings as Meitj traders explored Earth and evaluated humanity.

  Like the other ancient species, the mLa’an, the Meitj had forgotten more about the galaxy and space survival than humanity had learned in its seven generations as a Galaxy Proper member species. They were a peaceable people, unless you threatened one of their massive bazaar starships. The Meitj defended their trade goods and themselves with ruthless efficiency, so much so that few pirates attacked them. I had heard that the shifter clans occasionally harassed smaller Meitj caravans on isolated starlanes. But that was nothing compared to Ivan’s recklessness in attempting to steal the Meitj Imperial Crown. Why would he even try?

  “Vulf?”

  “Hmm.” He rubbed my arm absently, his attention on a replay of the Station Folly explosion.

  Earlier I’d decided to keep to myself my suspicions that Ivan would attempt to steal from the Meitj again. However, I was now in possession of two additional crucial pieces of information. The first was that attempting to steal the Imperial Crown of an original Galactic Proper species was more akin to a declaration of war and could trigger reprisals against all of humanity.

  I shuddered.

  The other new information was personal. I’d been there as Vulf abandoned his own chase to save Kenner and return the boy to safety—or as safe as a pirate starship could be. Vulf understood family loyalty. A million solidus bounty was a fortune, but Vulf and I could discuss Ivan’s future once I’d located him and stopped him enraging the Meitj by another attempt to steal their Imperial Crown.

  Very simply, I trusted Vulf.

  “He won’t have given up,” I said quietly.

  “Pardon?” Vulf focused on me.

  “Ivan. He’ll go after the Imperial Crown again. That’s what he’s setting up, now. He’s not simply evading you and anyone else.” The thought of the other bounty hunter, Mike Seymour, was an added incentive for Vulf and me to catch up with Ivan first. “Ivan will have learned from his first failed attempt to steal the Imperial Crown. He’s preparing for his second attempt.”

  Vulf shook his head, baffled. “It would be suicide. The Meitj Palace Guard will be on full alert.” He frowned. “Is Ivan’s shamanic talent as strong as yours?”

  “I don’t think so.” I considered the question. “When I met one of the Shaman Justice’s I felt how the sha energy coiled around them. Even in a passive state, there was a sense of power around them. Even ordinary people could sense it. The Shaman Justice wore an ordinary utility suit. There was nothing to mark him as special, yet in a crowded space, there was a circle of emptiness around him. He was alone.”

  The memory chilled me. I’d suppressed it, but there it was: a subconscious reason for my running from the Academy into seven years of liberty. I didn’t want to be a Shaman Justice and always alone. Sure, a starship shaman didn’t have close relationships with the crews of the starships we contracted to for voyages, but nor did we end up walking, eating and existing alone. I’d learned to underplay my shamanic abilities and to keep them contained.

  Could Ivan have done the same?

  “I don’t think Ivan has the talent of a Shaman Justice. I haven’t sensed it, but then, I always hid the extent of my talent from him. He could have done the same.” I pulled away from Vulf. Recalling the loneliness of the Shaman Justice I’d met when I was fourteen had me retreating into old habits. If I rejected everyone first, then they couldn’t hurt me.

  And it wasn’t really a matter of rejecting Vulf first. Just minutes ago it had been him who physically put me at a distance, breaking our kiss. I had to remember that he’d made that choice. Just because I was scared at the thought of Ivan’s obsession to steal the Meitj Imperial Crown didn’t mean I needed a pity hug.

  “Why did you hide your power from Ivan?” Vulf asked. “I’m assuming he initiated contact with you and told you he was your grandfather? Was it after you graduated?”

  “No. I was nine years old. Six years after Ivan surrendered me anonymously to the Academy. Us younger students were on a field trip. We were on Archipelago.” A planet being terraformed for a corporation intent on selling individual islands to humans and other humanoid species. “With the sha energy moving restlessly, Ivan was able to approach undetected by my teachers.”

  The memory of my first encounter with my grandfather had acquired a dream-like quality over the years. “I’d lingered behind the other students, absorbed in how the sha flowed in unique patterns, as if it was learning the planet. Perhaps if Ivan hadn’t interrupted that moment of fascination with the unique energy of terraforming, I’d have chosen to specialize in that use of shamanic talent rather than becoming a starship shaman.”

  “The Academy wouldn’t have let you,” Vulf said bluntly. “Not when they were forming you to become a Shaman Justice. Shamans who terraform planets seldom leave their chosen planet. It’s a lifetime commitment, emotionally as much as anything.”

  I sighed for the truth of his observation, and the relinquishment of an old what-might-have-been fantasy. It wasn’t that I wanted to be tied to one planet, but a place to belong…yes, that idea sung to my soul. “It doesn’t matter. Ivan interrupted my playtime with the sha of the young planet. He was smart. He introduced himself straight off as my grandfather. I was a suspicious child. He handed me a vial of his blood and told me to test it. He said it was his blood and that I should test it and see for myself. He didn’t tell me to keep it a secret between him and me.”

  Vulf raked a hand through his blond hair. “Ivan didn’t need to tell you, did he? A young girl, alone, suddenly presented with a mysterious family member. Did you send away for one of those do-it-yourself genetic test kits?”

  I nodded. “It proved that Ivan was my grandfather—or that the blood in the vial had belonged to my grandfather. Back then, so excited and important with my secret, I had no doubts. And later, I just believed. Why else would Ivan show up randomly through my years at the Academy?”

  “Your level of talent? A shaman student unprotected by family?” Vulf muttered. “But Daisy was telling the truth in the Spotted Toadstool.”

  “And when I was thirteen, I went through a suspicious phase. I insisted on hugging Ivan good-bye on one of his rare visits, and I stole a couple of strands of his hair. I retested our genetic match. He is my grandfather.”

  Vulf grinned, and he looked proud of me.

  I blushed. “I just wanted to be sure.”

  “No criticism here.” He gestured, palms outward, pantomiming innocence. “But even after confirming Ivan was your grandfather, you still hid your power from him. Why?”

  I scratched my nose. “I’m not sure.”

  He stared at me.

  “Oh, all right,” I exclaimed crossly. “Ivan wouldn’t tell me about my mom, his daughter. I was always too afraid to push the issue, as if he might disappear forever then, too. But a part of me resented his secrets, so I kept mine, too. The Academy tutors had subtly urged me to hide the extent of my talent and the fact that I was so much more aware of the flows of sha than other students. I extended that secrecy to Ivan.”

  “Tit for tat.”

  “It was a juvenile response, but it set and became a habit.”

  He nodded his understanding before pacing.

  I watched the athletic movement of his body even in this contained restlessness. Somewhere on the Orion there had to be gym equipment for him to maintain his strength and endurance. I needed to borrow it. Exercise was an excellent means of burning off frustration.

  “Jaya, if you were to confront Ivan, could you take the sha he was using off him? Re-shape it, or however you express it, but undo his shamanic actions?”

  “Block him?” My shock at the idea sounded in my voice.

  He halted. “Is it dangerous?”

  “Dangerous?” I was shocked all over a
gain. “Maybe. Yes, that would explain…” I stretched and rolled my shoulders, shaking the loosened sha from my fingers. Just so would I recover after a sha training exercise. “At the Academy they were strict about only using unclaimed sha. There was to be no stealing it from others. Disrupting another shaman’s sha energy working was called blocking because it blocks their purpose.”

  “So it is possible, but why would your tutors school you against it? Danger, protocol or limiting your power?” He held my gaze, watching me as understanding settled coldly in my bones.

  I answered him slowly, testing each word for the truth of it. “If we practiced blocking exercises, the other students would gradually realize that I could block each of them. Of course, I would have hidden the extent of my talent.”

  “Would you?” Vulf interrupted. “Switch it the other way. Don’t think of it as you blocking others from their power. Think of yourself as a kid. Your fellow students are attacking you, trying to wrest sha energy away from you. Your only identity is your shamanic talent. No family telling you, showing you, that they love you just for you.”

  Dear heaven but his words hurt.

  He knew it, too. His blue eyes were hooded, the lines of his face holding regret but determination. “Could you really have resisted the temptation to protect yourself and guard your sha energy?”

  “Maybe not,” I conceded.

  “Definitely not. You’re a shaman, but you’re also half-shifter, and no shifter willingly surrenders their strength. We give our loyalty to an alpha only after the alpha has proven him- or herself stronger and not only able, but willing, to protect us. Your instincts wouldn’t have let you make yourself vulnerable, and any shifter would applaud your actions.”

  I smiled, painfully rueful. “So the rule against blocking was to hide me, to hide my potential.”

  “And to hide your potential even from you.”

  “What?”

  “Forget it. Maybe I’m wrong.” He strode over to the table and requested a display of the Orion’s current location.

  I hurried to the table and faced him across it. “You can’t leave it at that. Explain.”