by Ivy Barrett
“I didn’t expect to see you until much later,” Roark said with a knowing smile.
“She’s sleeping. For now.” He returned the doctor’s smile.
“What can I do for you?”
Suspecting he wouldn’t be here long, Fane didn’t bother to sit down. “Can nanites create paranormal abilities in someone who didn’t originally have them?”
Roark pushed back from his desk and crossed his legs. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I’m not the nanites expert.”
“Well, the nanites expert is the reason I ask. She told me she injected herself with nanites, but she wouldn’t explain their capabilities.”
“Why did she inject herself with nanites?”
“It’s a long story. I know Mal Ton’s strength and ability to heal is due in part to nanites, but what else can they do?”
“We’re just talking about biological applications?”
“Yes.” Fane clasped his hands behind his back, trying not to let his impatience show. The need to be near Cassie, to touch her had never been quite this strong.
“In rare cases they can directly affect DNA, but protein manipulation has been far more successful.”
“If nanites can manipulate protein, how does that benefit the host?”
“It depends on their programming.” Roark spread his hands and offered a helpless shrug. “I really need more information before I can hazard a guess.”
And the person with the information wasn’t about to tell him. Fane sighed. “All right. Thanks for your time.” He turned to go.
“Has she agreed to cooperate with us?”
“I’ll let you know.”
The next three hours dragged by as Fane wandered the corridors of the Stilox headquarters. He reviewed the past few days, amazed at all that had been accomplished and needing the distraction from the desire twisting inside him. Max was incarcerated in the Underground. His power would be drained on a regular basis, making it impossible for him to teleport or use any other paranormal ability. Mal Ton wanted to execute him, insisting he remained a danger as long as he drew breath. There was validity in the position, but Fane didn’t want the loss of another life laid at his feet. There had to be a way to neutralize Max permanently and he would find it.
Sean was searching Old Towne Sanctum for the last two humans. If anyone could find out what happened to them it was Sean. Fane couldn’t be everywhere at once, no matter how hard he tried. Long ago he’d learned to delegate and trust in the abilities of his followers.
His wandering thoughts naturally brought him back to Cassie. They had resolved so much yet even more remained unsettled between them. One step at a time. He really had no other choice.
Unsure what she would enjoy, he filled a tray with a selection of breakfast items and returned to the apartment assigned for their use. She was still asleep, curled on her side with her hand tucked beneath her cheek. He set the tray on the table and knelt beside the bed, mesmerized by her serene beauty.
It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had surrendered herself so completely last night. After their first coupling, she had abandoned any attempt at reluctance. She’d accepted her body’s demands and reveled in her sexuality.
He hoped she would eventually offer herself body and soul to their joining, but for now he would treasure her physical surrender. Brushing her hair back from her brow, he kissed her eyelids and whispered, “Wake up, my love. You’re late for work.”
Her lips curved in a dreamy smile. “It didn’t feel like work to me.”
He chuckled. “I want nothing more than to spend the day in bed with you, but your first task awaits.” She blinked repeatedly then sat up, the sheet snagging on the hardness of one nipple. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one hungering for more.
“What’s my first task?” Her openness faded as she awakened more fully.
“Lorelle, Mal Ton’s mate.”
Tucking the sheet beneath her arms, she wiggled back against the wall. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I’ll let Roark and Andrea fill you in. They know more about the situation than I do.”
She nodded, absently licking her lips. “Three tasks then you set me free, right?”
The lie wouldn’t pass his lips. If he had his way she would never return to her old life, never be separated from him again.
“Fane, last night changes nothing. You have to set me free.”
“I brought you a breakfast tray.” He pushed to his feet, unable to meet her gaze. “Thought you might be hungry.”
She caught his arm and waited until he looked at her before she spoke again. “Promise me. If I complete all three tasks, you will let me go.”
His throat tightened and his mouth dried out. Just the possibility was unbearable. “If you still want to leave when the tasks are complete, I’ll have no choice but to let you go.”
* * *
Cassie pushed back from the desk and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t help her.”
“Can’t or won’t?” Roark challenged. His surliness surprised her. He’d been easygoing and likable for most of the day. With wavy dark hair and teal eyes, it was doubtful any of his Stilox ancestors had ‘tainted’ their lineage with Protarian blood. So why would he choose a human for his primary mate?
“We’ve shown you all the data we’ve collected,” the human in question commented. Cassie shifted her gaze to Andrea with objective curiosity. She was pretty enough, in the conservative, clinical style that often plagued females who spent too much time in laboratories. Her intelligence was undeniable and Cassie had seen flashes of compassion and kindness. Still, she was human, an obscure, technologically challenged race.
“You seem distracted,” Roark said. “Do you need a break? You didn’t eat much earlier. Would you like to try something else?”
And he was the charming doctor again. Fascinating. “Many animals lose their appetites in captivity.”
“Do you often think of yourself as an animal?”
She hadn’t heard Fane enter Roark’s office, but she easily recognized his voice. Her chair faced the desk, which put her back to the door. “Only when I’m treated like one.”
He moved closer, stepping into her peripheral vision. His clothing, though simple by Protarian standards, set him apart from the Stilox rebels. They all wore functional garments in solid shades of green, gray, or black. Fane’s pants were black, but his ivory tunic was edged with quilted golden cloth. The rich embellishment accented the red tones in his dark hair and made his light green eyes shine even brighter.
“I’m not sure we’ve earned the insinuation, but I’ll try harder to make you feel welcome.” Moving behind her again, he slipped his hands beneath her hair and found her shoulders. “Have you made any progress with your first assignment?”
His hands squeezed her tense muscles, his thumbs running up the back of her neck. It felt so wonderful, her eyes drifted closed and she sighed. “I can’t reprogram Lorelle’s nanites without an interface sequencer.”
“Didn’t you write the program that makes the nanites work?”
His touch was more effective than a drug. She relaxed and forgot all the ways she’d intended to twist the situation to her advantage. A woman’s life hung in the balance. It really wasn’t fair to let an innocent die to assuage her pride. Lorelle wasn’t even Stilox. The humans had been brought to this star system against their will.
“I was one member of the team and it took two years to develop.” She reached back and lifted his hands off her shoulders, refusing to be molded—literally—to his will. “I either need access to the central database or I need my DPU.”
“Logging on to the central computer is much too risky,” Roark said.
“What’s a DPU?” Andrea asked.
“A data processing unit. It doesn’t rely on shared applications to function,” Fane explained. Then he looked at Cassie and asked, “Where would we have to go to get y
ours?”
“My apartment.”
He shook his head. “Not a chance. We couldn’t get anywhere near your apartment without alerting your father.”
“And I can’t help Lorelle without access to an interface sequencer.”
Fane paced the length of the room, ending beside Roark’s desk. “I’ll take you to the Underground. One of my hackers will have to find us a back door into the data stream.”
She didn’t argue. The Underground was one step closer to home. At least she’d be back on Protaria. “The nanites are replicating at an alarming rate. Is it possible to put Lorelle in stasis?”
“A stasis chamber won’t affect the nanites,” Roark said. “It will only arrest her biological functions.”
“I’m aware of that. Nanites have a safety protocol built into them. I can tell them to hibernate, but as closely as they’ve integrated into her physiology, I’d rather she be in stasis when I issue the command.”
Fane looked at Roark, concern obvious in his tense expression. Roark rubbed the bridge of his nose and nodded. “It makes sense. If Lorelle’s body didn’t depend on the nanites, we would have simply destroyed them. This will buy us some much-needed time.”
“Will you be able to reverse the changes or just prevent the nanites from continuing with their objective?” Andrea wanted to know.
“I’m not sure. Have any of the changes they’ve made so far been particularly troubling?”
“No,” Andrea admitted. “She’s stronger and healthier than she’s ever been before.”
Cassie accepted the information with a stiff nod. “Then I’ll concentrate on revising their objective as opposed to reversing it.” Once she had access to the sequencer, reprogramming the nanites should be no challenge. Hopefully the other tasks were as rudimentary. “What else do you need me to do?”
“One task at a time,” Fane said. “I don’t want you to be distracted.”
“May I ask a question?” Andrea stepped into her peripheral vision as she added, “It isn’t technically part of any of the tasks.”
Cassie smiled despite the tense situation. Andrea had been nothing but kind to her. “I reserve the right not to answer, but ask away.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around Stilox reproduction. We’ve run every test we can think of and we’re still unable to determine if human and Stilox physiology are compatible.”
Cassie looked from Andrea to Roark. Clearly, this wasn’t a general inquiry. “Reproduction isn’t my area of expertise.”
“Well, I’m a general practitioner,” Roark said. “Your knowledge base is far more extensive than mine.”
“I presume your interest is personal.” Roark glanced at Andrea then nodded. Cassie wasn’t sure why she cared. This was clearly another task. Even so, the cautious hope in the human’s eyes tugged at Cassie’s heartstrings. “Is your DNA triploid?” she asked Roark.
“Yes. My family has possessed the third DNA strand for several generations.”
“Does your human mate understand what that means?” Primary and secondary mates, the practice had always fascinated Cassie. Biology might have shaped the Stilox social system, but Cassie couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to have her senses overwhelmed by two demanding lovers.
“Andrea knows two Stilox males are required for conception.”
“Who’s your Second?”
“Mal Ton.”
Cassie’s gaze flew to Andrea. “And you’re still interested in breeding?”
Andrea laughed. “He’s not nearly as intimidating once you get to know him.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“If I give you samples of our DNA, will you be able to determine if conception is possible?” Roark persisted.
“If I had access to my lab, there would be no problem. Without it, I’m not sure I can tell you any more than you know already.”
“One task at a time,” Fane reminded. “Send the samples with us if you like, but Lorelle is our top priority.”
Chapter Five
Cassie sat back and watched the easy interaction between Fane and Mal Ton. With his mate in stasis and temporarily out of danger, Mal Ton had insisted on accompanying them back to Protaria. The shuttle was small and old compared to Cassie’s private cruiser. The men didn’t seem to notice or care. Mal Ton piloted the craft while Fane navigated. They were far more interested in their lively conversation than the mundane actions required to maneuver the ship.
“I wasn’t that drunk,” Fane objected.
“You could hardly walk.” Mal Ton’s laugh was deep and surprisingly warm. “If I hadn’t recognized your voice and come running, they would have beaten the shit out of you.”
“So you say each time you tell this story. I don’t remember you being—”
“You don’t remember anything. You were seriously fucked up.”
Fane waved away the conclusion and smiled at Cassie. “He’s been trying to exploit my gratitude for years. I know him too well to fall for the ploy.”
“How long have you known each other?” Cassie searched her memory. She knew scattered facts about each of them, but her information raised far more questions than it answered. Mal Ton had been a thorn in her father’s side longer than she’d been alive and Fane led the Mutant Underground. Beyond their hostility toward the Protarian elite, what connected these two?
“We’ve known each other a very long time,” Fane admitted.
“Our paths keep crossing, whether we like it or not.” Mal Ton’s tone was still playful.
Realizing the vagueness of both answers, Cassie asked, “How did you meet?”
“I was dispatched to kill him.” Mal Ton’s grin made it hard to determine if he was serious or not.
“I was under the impression that you’re the best Stilox has to offer. What kept you from achieving your objective?” She focused on Mal Ton, fascinated by his agreeable mood. Andrea was right. He wasn’t nearly as intimidating once he stopped scowling.
“I didn’t fail.” He shot her an irritated glance. “When I located my target, I realized he was far more valuable to us alive than dead.”
“Your decision is still debatable, but I’m glad you took pity on me.” Fane sounded dismissive, as if he were uncomfortable with the topic.
“It wasn’t pity and you know it,” Mal Ton objected. “You were an opportunity we couldn’t afford to squander. It would have been foolish to end your life before we understood—”
“It all happened ages ago. I’m sure Cassie would rather talk about something more pertinent to the present.”
Cassie shook her head. “Actually, my father refuses to talk about the past and the archives have been twisted by Protarian politics. I know conflict is never as one-sided as the Protarian historians would have us believe. I’d love to hear the other side of the story for a change.”
“Why?” Fane swiveled his chair to face her, his expression carefully guarded. “Protarians don’t come any more elite. What’s your sudden interest in the past?”
She shifted in her seat, refusing to retreat. “I’m curious and I’m bored,” she lied. Her interest would have been nonexistent if it weren’t for Fane. He intrigued her, yet she knew so little about him. “Is there some reason you don’t want me to know these things?”
“You won’t believe us even if we told you,” Fane muttered.
“Then what do you have to lose?”
He released his safety restraints with an impatient snap and leaned toward her. “This might be an entertaining story to you, but we lived through each event, experienced each horror.” His emotions were banked, suppressed until all she could feel was defused unrest. She missed the blazing intensity she’d enjoyed so well the night before.
“She doesn’t understand, Fane. Why would she? The worst of it was over by the time she was born.”
She looked from Mal Ton to Fane and back. Both men appeared healthy and in the prime of
their lives. How old were they? How much had they suffered before she’d drawn her first breath?
“How much do you know about the war?” Fane leaned against his chair’s back and folded his arms over his chest. “What are the elite taught about the conflict?”
“It escalated out of a colonization dispute, didn’t it?” It was embarrassing how little she actually knew. The war had shaped events and drastically changed conditions on both planets and still the elite strolled through life as if it were irrelevant.
“That was a small part of it,” Fane said. “Protaria was overcrowded and Stilox was the obvious choice for annexation. Unfortunately the Stilox weren’t interested in developing a Protarian province in the middle of their wilderness.”
“We tried to negotiate a mutually agreeable program.” Mal Ton checked the instruments before he turned around and joined the conversation. “Everything we proposed was too slow and too restrictive.”
“Even the Stilox people couldn’t agree on how many—if any—of the Protarians should be allowed to immigrate. Resentment ran deep even before the war began.” Fane relaxed a bit, placing his hands on the armrests.
She unfastened her safety straps as well, crossing her legs as she absorbed the information. “This is all so odd. Wasn’t Stilox settled by Protarian immigrants in the first place?”
“Stilox was an untamed wilderness when my ancestors settled there,” Mal Ton said. “The Protarians wanted to waltz in and enjoy the benefits and beauty now that the work was done.”
Fane fidgeted, his expression inscrutable. “Let’s move on or we’ll still be debating the cause of the war when we land. Suffice it to say negotiations broke down and the Protarians decided to take what they wanted regardless of the opposition. They sent in troops, the Stilox resisted, and the war began.”
“We were outnumbered and outgunned, which put us on the defensive from the beginning. We’d drive them back and they’d descend in greater numbers. We had no choice but to dig in and dig deep. The majority of the action took place either on or in the sky above Stilox.”
