Freedom:

In a universe of darkness and depravity, the Shielders battled to stay one step ahead of the vengeful Controllers. Their survival depended upon the quest of one man.

To Live
Jarek san Ranul had found evidence of a wormhole, a vortex to another galaxy; escape from those who sought the destruction of his race was at hand. But when his search produced the most intriguing woman he’d ever met, he found he wanted something more than duty and honor.

To Love
On the run from a mighty warlord, Eirene Kane had to protect her identity. She was an Enhancer, one of a genetic few with a powerful gift. Then her flight hurled her into the arms of Jarek, a man who both stole her heart and uncovered her perilous secret – and though she knew she should flee, Eirene found herself yearning for both the man and the one thing he claimed would free them forever.

Travan

She needed to lose her virginity--and fast.

That inane thought was Eirene's first reaction to Vaden's shattering pronouncement. Stunned, she stared at her uncle, her heart pounding.

He returned her perusal, his pale eyes as sharp as lasers, a warning of his cunning, savage character. Greed radiated from him like a malevolent aura. Panic clawed at her insides.

"Lanrax got your tongue, woman?"

"Uncle, you can't mean--"

"The Leors made a very good offer. A trade route for a virgin bride. I could have bartered you to one of those slobbering idiot Anteks, as payment for not patrolling our smuggling routes. You should show your gratitude, niece."

Gratitude? For selling her--or at least her virginity--off to a Leor? Eirene's thoughts whirled, trying to assimilate this unexpected turn of events. It was true Travan women had no rights, and served only two purposes: breeding, or trading for goods and services. Yet she had hoped her healing skills would make her too necessary to trade. She'd obviously been wrong.

"The Leor envoy arrives tomorrow," Vaden informed her.

"Your future lord and master will be with them. He wants to inspect you himself. You'll also be examined by their healer to ensure you're still a virgin."

He took a swig of his wine. His lecherous gaze swept over her as he wiped his mouth. "It's a shame I can't sample you first. You're a pretty piece. But those Spirit-forsaken Leors are damn particular about their women."

A shudder ran through Eirene, and she fought back a wave of nausea. "Uncle, I urge you to reconsider. Surely my healing abilities have some value--"

"Skills any female can learn," he spat contemptuously. "Your virginity is far more valuable."

Not nearly as valuable as the secret abilities she kept hidden--powers which could be discovered in the aftermath of this deal. Desperation spurred her foolishly on. "There must be another way to acquire the trade route."

He lunged up, surprisingly agile for his age and size, and grabbed her wrist, jerking her halfway across his desk. "How dare you challenge my decisions?" he roared. He twisted her arm sideways, wringing a gasp of pain from her. "This route is being acquired my way."

He released her abruptly, and she fell forward against the desk. Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look at him. Eyes the color of the morning mist--cold, ruthless--challenged her to further folly. "I have full rights over you. You will do as I say. If you oppose me in any way, I'll take an electrolyzer rod to you. It won't leave any outside marks to alarm your betrothed. And after I shock you within an inch of your miserable, inconsequential life, you'll still do as I say. What will it be, woman?"

Bitter defeat, laced with a debilitating sense of helplessness, burned in her chest. She should have known arguing would only make her uncle more determined to enforce his authority. She pushed herself upright, resisting the urge to rub her throbbing arm. "I concede to your wishes, Uncle." For now.

"I knew you'd see reason." Vaden sank back into his chair and belched loudly. "I expect your future mate to be well pleased, especially with that hair of yours."

Leors had no body hair, and were reputed to hold a fascination for the hair common to other races. Eirene's was as black as a full eclipse and flowed to her hips. She would cut it off, find some way to make herself repulsive, she thought, battling rising hysteria.

She must find a way to circumvent this trade. She would be defenseless, in the clutches of a Leor male. The Leors were renown for their fierceness and cruelty--and worse, for their ability to probe minds. It would only be a matter of time before they discerned her secret. No telling what they would do when they discovered she was an Enhancer.

She showed no more of her inner turmoil to Vaden. Her fate would be far worse if he knew the truth. Besides, nothing could be gained by her protest over his decision. The system of male dominance had been in place on Travan for hundreds of seasons. A lone female couldn't battle that system. She'd been a fool to argue with him. But she would find a way out of this.

Her gaze dropped to the desk, cluttered with priceless artifacts Vaden personally claimed from pirating raids. She had an idea . . . .

"Nothing else to say, I see," he growled, pouring more wine. "I should have known you wouldn't be grateful that I traded you to a virile stud who will keep your bed warm." He waved her away. "Return to your quarters. Tomorrow you'll be bathed and clothed appropriately to meet your betrothed."

He eyed her ragged robe with distaste, his gaze coming to rest on her breasts. Seeing her opportunity, she used her unique power, locking onto his surge of desire, amplifying it back to him, sending the blood rushing to his groin, lust pounding through his body. A momentary diversion was all she needed to act on her idea, then she withdrew from his energy field. She quickly fled the chamber, leaving him to his raging libido.

Not that he was one to suffer any desire long. "Blazing hells! Stane!" Vaden bellowed behind her. "Get Sarina here immediately. I need her--now!"

Eirene stumbled back to the women's bleak compound, stunned and frightened. She had no choice but to flee. Her uncle would come after her, of that she was certain. He didn't like being thwarted, plus he'd have to deal with the Leors if he didn't find her. No one crossed them. They'd be furious if an agreement was not honored. They might even chase her down.

The sudden rumble of an incoming ship caught her attention. No! Surely the Leors weren't arriving a day early. The panic returned, adrenaline flooding her body. She looked toward the orange sky. Thrusters surged as a silver ship lowered toward the landing pad. It didn't appear to be a Leor ship, but she had to be certain. Lifting her robe, she hurried to the landing pad, moving between the trees.

From the shelter of the copse, she watched the hatch open and the ramp lower. An attractive woman with flowing golden hair strode down the ramp. Eirene was both relieved and astonished. Not a Leor, but . . . a female, clad in a flightsuit, no less! Disdaining females as inferior, Travan men traded only with male-dominated cultures.

The men on the landing pad appeared as surprised as Eirene, turning to gawk at the young woman. Several of them strutted forward, but halted when a second female, very tall and fierce looking, emerged from the hatch, a laser rifle in her hands.

The first woman spoke. "I'm Captain Celie Cameron. We're here to deliver the Elysian liquor and other supplies that Vaden Kane ordered." She tossed back her hair, her gaze sweeping the gaping men clustered in a tight group. "Is there a problem?"

The men glanced toward the second female, who shifted the rifle a notch higher. They shook their heads.

"Well then," Captain Cameron said briskly, all business. "I'll need four men to unload this cargo. And I'd like Commander Kane present to sign off on it and transfer the funds."

The men moved to do her bidding, muttering among themselves. It didn't sit well with them to take orders from a woman, but if Vaden had contracted those supplies, he'd be furious if they weren't unloaded. The woman with the rifle watched their every move as they carried the crates from the ship.

Amazed and heartened, Eirene knew she'd just found her way off Travan. She would stow away on that ship, using her powers to divert the women, if necessary. She didn't care where it took her. She felt inside her robe pocket to reassure herself. Her fingers slid along the hilts of two jewel-encrusted daggers, taken from Vaden's desk when she'd enhanced his lust and distracted him. Wherever she landed, she now had the means to find her way to Elysia and pursue her lifelong dream.

But before all else, she planned to ensure her uncle's agreement with the Leors would be irreversibly nullified.

By losing her virginity at the first possible opportunity.

SARON

Jarek san Ranul downed the glass of liquor, feeling it burn all the way to his gut. Didn't come close to the pain in his soul.

"More?" Blake san Damien offered, raising the bottle.

"No." Jarek blew out his breath and set the glass on the bar. "No use drinking myself senseless. Won't change anything."

"I guess not." Blake refilled his own glass. "Sorry about your father. We've lost a good man, a great leader."

They'd lost more than a great man and leader, Jarek thought, his heart heavy, grief clawing at him. They'd lost a way of life. A way of life that had been intentionally and systematically torn away from them.

Anger warred with his grief. Anger that had built steadily over the past fourteen seasons, as Jarek had watched his people being decimated. Their only crime--that they were Shielders, genetically resistant to the Controllers' mind domination. The destruction was facilitated from many sources: engineered disease, Anteks, shadowers, slavers, and even Shielder traitors.

As a reconnaissance scout for the pitifully small Shielder militia, Jarek had seen it all--entire colonies reduced to smoldering ruins, disease-ridden bodies, the remains from mass executions. Regardless of who inflicted these atrocities, the Controllers were behind every diabolical act.

"I guess you'll be traveling back to Liron to take your father's place as Council head," Blake said, breaking into Jarek's dark thoughts.

"And do what?" Jarek growled. "Tell them they might as well surrender to the Controllers and get it over with? Damn!" He hurled his glass against the opposite wall. It shattered into myriad pieces, just like the Shielder race was being splintered.

The bartender scowled and activated the vac. The little machine whirred noisily and began systematically scanning and suctioning the floor.

"Careful," Blake cautioned, glancing around the uncrowded bar. "We don't need to draw attention to ourselves."

He was right, of course. Ordinarily, Jarek took extreme precautions, but his riotous state of mind was impeding his common sense. He nodded, running his hand through his hair.

"How can I go back to Liron?" he demanded in a low voice. "How can I be responsible for the safety and welfare of an entire colony of people, when I can't guarantee their existence for a single cycle, much less a season? I can't even guarantee them enough food to eat, or medicine and supplies to meet their needs."

"No one can," Blake argued. "Blazing hells, man, they're coming at us from all sides. None of us can make any kind of guarantees. But the Liron colony needs your leadership."

Jarek clenched his fists, frustration a bitter bile in his throat. "That's not enough. We're just sitting echobirds. We don't stand a chance if things don't change--and fast."

"Just how do you propose we do that? Go openly against the Controllers, in the hopes of defeating them?"

"We both know that would be suicide." Jarek hated this feeling of helplessness. He was used to action, and yet, there was very little he or anyone could do against the Controllers.

His thoughts turned to the idea which had been nagging at him for over a season. One which had become a burning obsession, haunting his thoughts, taunting him with the possibilities. If ever there was a time for desperate, foolhardy measures, this was it.

"I'm going to check out that black hole in the twelfth sector," he told Blake.

"Are you still fixated on that? Surely you don't believe anything could be gained by exploring the twelfth sector. Enough ships have disappeared there all ready."

Jarek drummed his fingers on the bar. "Why not? It's pretty certain a black hole is the cause of those ships disappearing. Maybe we'd find some sort of natural hyperspace. A wormhole--inside the black hole."

"That's crazy," Blake declared. "What makes you so sure there would be a wormhole?"

"For one thing, there are the stories about the Enhancers. Many believe they used a portal in the twelfth sector to travel to other worlds." Jarek sat back, watching Blake's reaction.

"The Enhancers? Well, sure I've heard the tales--everyone has. But they're just that--tales. No one really knows much about the Enhancers. Spirit, Jarek, they haven't existed in the quadrant for over two hundred seasons."

"I don't think stories could be so consistent or persist so long, unless there's some truth to them. We might be passing up a major opportunity if we don't check out this black hole." Practical as always, Blake shook his head, doubt etched on his face. "All right, let's assume there is a wormhole inside the black hole. How is blazing hells can ship even enter it without being crushed to debris?"

"I have some ideas about dealing with that particular problem."

"Surely you don't really believe we can locate a wormhole, travel through it, and find habitable planets in another galaxy?" Blake asked incredulously. "Forget unlikely. The odds of that would have to be a billion to one."

"Shamara," Jarek said softly, the word reverberating through his very soul.

Confusion replaced disbelief in Blake's eyes. "Shamara? What in the Fires is that?"

"Sanctuary. Shamara is the Shen word for sanctuary." Jarek stared at Blake, tension humming through him. "I want to find sanctuary for our people. I have to believe there's a way."

Jarek hated to place all hopes for Shielder survival on one questionable theory. But he didn't see any other options, so he was going to do just that. And pray to Spirit that he was right.

Because if he was wrong, the Shielders were doomed.

Saron

Culture shock. Massive, overwhelming culture shock. Her wildest imaginings could not have prepared Eirene for Saron. She leaned against the rough stone wall of a mercantile, staring all around her. The first jolt came from seeing the men and women mingling freely together, like equals. Imagine that!

But there were also the cacophony of the bustling activity; masses of people, the babble of voices--in a dozen different languages; the roaring of skimmers and incoming ships. Clapping her hands over her ears, Eirene lurched away from the wall and moved toward the center of the base.

But she couldn't cover her eyes to avoid the visual assault on her senses--the brightly colored clothing; women in flightsuits and leggings instead of robes; the shops selling myriad products--wondrous things from all over the quadrant.

Worse, far worse, the emotional bombardment from the crush of beings was staggering. Excitement, greed, lust, anger, fear, violence. She struggled to block them out, succeeding somewhat, but left incredibly drained.

And this was just Saron, a stop-over planet. She couldn't begin to imagine what Elysia, the trade center of the quadrant, might be like. But she was determined to make her way there, after seeing to the crucial disposition of her virginity. The odds of her uncle or the Leors coming after her were too great to put that off.

First order of business--getting money and making a few purchases. She needed to find a jeweler and sell a stone from one of the daggers, then buy new clothing and rent a room where she could rest and clean up.

Then . . . on to the Pleasure Dome to seek temporary employment--as a courtesan. That ought to take care of her most pressing problem.

Drawing a deep breath, Eirene put her plan into action.

* * *

"The equipment you're seeking is very rare. So far I haven't been able to find any." Celie Cameron sipped her drink, regret in her dark brown eyes. "I suspect if we do locate such equipment, it will be very expensive. I'm sorry."

Jarek gripped his own drink. "I don't understand why you can't find equipment that analyzes electromagnetic distortions. Surely it's necessary to map out undeveloped sectors of the quadrant. And what about superconductors? Don't we use them in our intra-quadrant hyperspace routes?"

"I don't understand, either. I thought the same thing you did." Celie leaned forward, tossing her blond hair over her shoulder. "Unfortunately, the Controllers place more emphasis on dominating the quadrant and sucking it dry, over exploring and mapping new regions."

"The greedy bastards aren't visionaries, are they?" Blake commented.

"No, they're not," Celie agreed. "Very little exploratory equipment is manufactured. As for our internal hyperspace, it's all artificial, and the equipment to maintain the tunnels is manufactured on an as-needed basis. All of that is done under the strict surveillance of the Controllers."

"What about the worn-out equipment that's replaced?" Jarek asked. "Could it be overhauled and rebuilt?"

Celie shook her head. "I checked on that. The equipment is immediately melted down and recycled into other things. Waste not, want not."

"Yeah right," Jarek muttered. He suspected the recycled materials went into weapons. Murdering opponents and dissenters seemed to rank high on the Controller priority list.

"I wish I had better news. I'll keep looking and contact you if I find anything." Celie placed a slender hand on Jarek's arm. "What will you do now?"

He blew out his breath, frustration a raw ache in his chest. "I don't know. I'm not giving up, that's for sure. But I'll probably head for Liron and get everything settled there. Where you going next?"

"I'm leaving for Risa first thing tomorrow. As a matter of fact, I need to get some supplies loaded on my ship. I'd better call it a night." Celie pushed away from the table and stood. Both men rose with her.

She hugged Jarek, and he kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, sweetheart," he said. "Tell your sister and that no-good husband of hers that I said hello."

Celie grinned, looking hardly old enough to be piloting her own supply ship. "I will. And I won't tell you what Sabin says about you." She turned to Blake and offered her hand. "Commander. It was nice meeting you."

"My friends call me Blake," he replied, taking her hand in both of his. He gave her his most engaging grin, the one that felled most females.

"I'm sure they do." Celie gently disengaged her hand and flashed Jarek another smile. "See you around. Have a good trip to Liron."

She strode from bar, seemingly oblivious to the multiple male gazes fixed on her trim figure.

Blake let out a low whistle. "Damn, she's a looker."

"She's also very intelligent--too smart to get entangled with the likes of you. She's too young for you, anyway."

"I'm not that old," Blake muttered. "So, do we have the evening free before we start on the mission?"

"Yeah, you're free until eight hundred hours standard time tomorrow."

"Great." Blake turned, slung his arm across Jarek's shoulders. "Since you won't let me flirt with the lady smuggler, I have another idea. We've been working pretty hard these past cycles. What do you say we go to the Dome for some R&R?"

Jarek had never availed himself of the services the Pleasure Domes offered. He didn't have the time or the precious miterons required for such elite pleasures. Nor did he have the penchant for purchasing an act that should be given freely between a man and a woman, not tainted by greed.

He shook his head. "No thanks. I need to send some communiqués and plot our return course to Liron. You go on."

"Hey, you need some down time, too, Captain. It will do you good."

Good? Was there anything good in this Spirit-forsaken quadrant?

Jarek started to refuse again, but Blake headed him off. "Come on. Don't be such an old Shen." He jingled the coins his flightsuit pocket. "I won a big pot playing Fool's Quest here at Solaris yesterday. I have more than enough for the two of us to enjoy the evening at the Dome, and still give some to the cause. Those communiqués and navigation duties can only take so long. Then what will you do for the rest of the time?"

What indeed? Jarek thought. Endure another lonely night shift, filled with grief over his father and dark fears about Shielder survival?

Because of his obligations and the continual dangers he faced, Jarek had never allowed himself to become involved in a relationship, much less take a mate. He had nothing to offer except the strong possibility he wouldn't return from any given mission. He'd had few dalliances with females, and those had been before responsibility had become such a heavy cloak.

He was sick to the death of being alone, of battling heinous memories of destruction and despair. What would it be like, for once, to lose himself in mindless physical release? To find warmth and comfort in the arms of a woman without duty or commitment? Just once.

Weary, emotionally battered, he felt his resolve wavering. Just once. For tonight--no burdens, no accountability, no nightmares.

He nodded. "All right, let's go."

Blake whooped loudly and strode rapidly toward the bar's exit.

Jarek followed more slowly, already doubting the wisdom of his capitulation. It couldn't hurt anything, he told himself.

It was just one night.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Lani asked, her high-pitched voice grating on Eirene's already tautly-strung nerves. "You seem jittery."

Eirene drew a calming breath. It didn't help much; her pulse continued racing. Desperately, she wished her beloved mentor was still alive, and here to guide her. When Eirene was a young girl, Rayna had recognized her rare powers, had taught her the necessity of keeping them a secret and using them only when it was imperative. She'd been like a mother to Eirene, guiding her into womanhood and teaching her ancient healing techniques. But Rayna was gone, and Eirene had no one to advise her now.

"Eirene?"

She jolted back to the present. "Oh, I'm fine. Just getting used to working in a different environment, with new clientele."

Lani giggled, the sound overly shrill, and a blunt reminder that the virginity disposal business was close at hand--very close. "Oh, sweetness, the clientele are same wherever you go!" she trilled. "I don't think that will be any adjustment for you."

She fluffed her blue hair around her shoulders and her very generous breasts. The blue feathers cloaking her small frame swayed with the movement. "Where did you say you worked before this?"

Eirene paused, still trying to assimilate the other woman's appearance. She'd never seen blue hair or lips painted blue, or a feathered headdress and robe--all blue. Actually, she'd never met anyone remotely like Lani. But despite the oddity of the petite woman's appearance, Eirene sensed her good heart and kind nature. Lani harbored no malice or ill will of any sort. She had generously taken Eirene under her wing--so to speak--going so far as to share her cosmetics and perfume.

"Sweetness, surely you've got previous experience at this," Lani prompted, her gamine face scrunching in concern. "I mean, you didn't have any personal toiletries, and just that one robe.

You can use some of my feathers, if you like. Most men find them very . . . stimulating. And you just wouldn't believe the things the right man can do with feathers."

"Oh, no thank you," Eirene answered hastily. "I don't usually--ah--work with feathers. As I told Madam, I don't have much with me because I managed to get a seat on an earlier transport than I had planned, and my personal items are on the later transport."

Lani still looked concerned. "Have you worked at other Domes?"

"Oh, yes. I've been many seasons at 'The Tent of Women'."

Eirene had told Madame Zandra the same thing, but it hadn't been enough to convince the astute madam. Eirene had been forced to use her power to enhance Madame Zandra's greed, playing on the woman's hope that Eirene's striking looks would be a draw, amplifying her willingness to hire a courtesan with questionable credentials.

Nodding in ready acceptance, Lani seemed to need no such enhancement to believe Eirene. "'The Tent of Women'. That sounds very interesting . . . very exotic."

Eirene thought of the ragged tents in the women's compound on Travan, the dust blowing through the frayed fabric. Of the women there, worn down from serving men's voracious needs, from the harsh living conditions, and bearing too many children. Sadness joined the trepidation churning in the pit of her stomach. She vowed to herself that one day she would return to Travan in a position to make some changes.

She looked around the boudoir to which she had been assigned to perform her job as a courtesan--the place where her next actions would ensure her freedom. Its conspicuous opulence rivaled her uncle's residence. A mirrored alcove ensconced a huge satin-draped bed, on which soft pillows were artfully arranged. A plush sofa sat against the opposite wall. A vibrachair, large enough to hold two--or possibly more--sat next to a console containing Elysian wine and liquor, glasses, and a horrifying assortment of sexual 'accessories'. That's what Lani called them.

Having firmly assured Madam Zandra she had no exotic sexual specialties, Eirene prayed her client wouldn't be interested in using any accessories. Not that it mattered, because she fully intended to use her powers to enhance and channel the client's lust, inciting him to finish the act quickly. Hopefully, if she could inflame him enough, he wouldn't notice her lack of experience--or her virginity.

A tone sounded and the panel by the entry lit up. "Oh, you've got a client already!" Lani sashayed over to the panel and indicated the display. "This will give you all the information you need to know about him. His name--first name only, of course--his race, his--ahem . . . personal preferences."

Oh, Spirit. Her heart pounding, Eirene walked over and read the information. A humanoid male, Jarek, had purchased the whole evening. He didn't state any unusual preferences.

"Oh, lucky you!" Lani squealed. "You got an easy one your first night here. He's human and he's staying the entire evening shift. That's so much better than having an alien, or two or three different clients in an evening. Of course, Madam Zandra always limits it to three in one shift. She wants us fresh and perky for the next night."

Three in one night? Appalled, Eirene vaguely remembered Madam telling her that. Panic began to build in her tense body. Spirit, what was she doing here?

A chime sounded--her entry panel.

"He's already here. He's an eager one!" Lani patted Eirene's arm. "I'll clear out. Have fun." Balancing on her high spike heels, she strutted toward the panel adjoining Eirene's chamber with hers.

Eirene battled the urge to drag Lani back and beg her to take this client. Lani turned at the panel. "Oh, yes. There are alarm buttons by the bed, the couch, and the vibrachair. If your client gets out of hand in any way, use one to call security. Madam doesn't like for us to be roughed up or hurt. Ta, ta!" She was gone, in a flash of blue feathers.

Alarm buttons? The building knot of panic exploded and raced through Eirene's body. She couldn't do this. She couldn't. She didn't know anything about mating. Well, actually, she knew how it was done, but--

The chime sounded again, a death knell in Eirene's terrified perspective. No, she told herself firmly, willing herself to calm. This was a necessary step toward the freedom she sought. She was merely divesting herself of her most valuable known commodity, reducing her bartering value, and keeping herself out of the hands of the Leors. It would be far more dangerous should the fact she was an Enhancer be discovered.

Forcing air into her lungs, she opened the panel. She didn't have on heels, and she wasn't tall to begin with, which put her eye level with a masculine chest. Adrenaline resurged, and she froze, her gaze locked straight ahead. The black flightsuit her client wore fit snugly, emphasizing nice muscle delineation. He was solid, but not barrel-chested or overly developed like many Travan males.

"Hey. I'm up here."

His voice was pleasant, deep and quiet, but she thought she detected a hint of nervousness. Reluctantly, she raised her gaze. He was relatively young, she realized, clean shaven with dark eyes and wavy hair the color of rich brown yarton wood.

He studied her in return, his gaze sliding over her face, and down her body. She steeled herself, expecting the rush of lust she was accustomed to picking up from men . . . and felt nothing. At least, no emotions. He radiated energy, as did all living things. She felt the warmth of his body, and sensed a calm well of strength within him. But no emotion--no lust, no anger, or joy, or even the nervousness she had heard in his voice.

She drew another breath, trying to compose and center herself. Her fear was interfering with her powers. She couldn't control this situation if she couldn't lock on to his thoughts and feelings.

"I'm Jarek Ra--" he began, then stopped, as if suddenly remembering no last names were given at the Dome. Madam Zandra had that information, of course, along with the client's I.D. disk, which was held until the transaction was completed to the satisfaction of both parties.

"I'm Jarek," he finished lamely.

Eirene didn't respond, trying again to link with his mind. Why wasn't it working?

He turned his head sharply as if he heard something, his body tensing. He stared down the corridor one direction, then the other. Startled, she halted her linking attempt. He looked both directions again, then shook his head as if to clear it.

"That's odd." He took a step forward. "May I come in?"

She nodded, and moved back, not used to a male asking permission for anything. He stepped into the chamber, and she backed up further. He was at least six feet tall, his build sleek and lean. Again, she became acutely aware of his vibrant life force, strong and focused. She'd only ever felt such strength from Rayna.

The automatic panel slid shut behind him, with an alarming, final thud. He glanced around the room briefly, then his dark gaze settled on her. Eirene couldn't breath, couldn't move, like a terrified Kerani caught in a snare.

He didn't move, either. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, and she realized he was unsure how to proceed. Perhaps he didn't purchase pleasure at a Dome often. An experienced courtesan, like Lani, would have known exactly what to do to put a client at ease, to get on with it. As a matter of fact, Eirene felt certain Lani would never be at a loss for words--or feathers. But Eirene had no idea what to do next, except spur Jarek into lust and a mating frenzy. Once again, she tried to tap into his psyche. Nothing. It felt as if she had slammed against a wall.

Immediately, his gaze shifted from her. He strode around her and checked the chamber thoroughly--beneath the furniture, in the lav. One hand rested lightly on one of the weapons strapped to the black utility belt encircling his trim waist. He stopped by the panel adjoining Lani's chamber. "What's in there?" he demanded, indicating the panel.

"That's another courtesan's chamber," Eirene replied, giving up her attempt to link.

Jarek scanned the room again, although he visibly relaxed. "Strange," he muttered.

"What is?"

"Ah . . . it's nothing." That dark gaze returned to her. He moved closer, halting by the vibrachair. "Sorry if I alarmed you."

She couldn't think of anything to say. She swallowed and simply stood there, trying to collect her wits.

"You're Eirene, right?"

She liked his voice, the way it resonated. She nodded, still unable to speak.

"You're very beautiful," he said quietly.

Adrenaline began snaking through her, sending her heart pounding in a terrifying rhythm. She wet her parched lips with her tongue. "T-thank you."

This was it. She was going to lose her virginity to this man, and she would have no control over his actions. Her Enhancer powers seemed to have no affect on Jarek. Oddly enough, they seemed to agitate him, almost as if he could sense them. The Leors had that ability, but she didn't know if other races also did. Spirit, if that was the case, she couldn't risk using them around Jarek. She clenched her hands and waited.

"Well, then." Blowing out his breath, he unbuckled his utility belt and tossed it onto the console. Immediately, lusty Elysian music blared through the speakers. He hastily swept up the belt and punched buttons until the racket stopped. "Sorry about that."

He grinned boyishly, and Eirene's heart skipped a beat. There was something appealing about his clean-cut features. He didn't have the spoiled, dissipated look that accompanied excesses of food and drink and mating--the look most of the Travan men had.

He sank into the double-wide vibrachair and pulled off his boots. Muscles rippled beneath his flightsuit, indicating he kept himself in prime physical condition. He straightened, then leaned back, his unnerving gaze fixing on Eirene.

"I guess we'd better get to it," he said, his voice low and rough.