The High Priestess
Author: Katee Robert
Date: 2012-03-01 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Paranormal Romance; Paranormal; Adult; Science Fiction; Fantasy; Science Fiction Romance; Romance
Description: Marianna Zain is in trouble. The handsome stranger she just kissed? He’s a member of the most terrifying hate-group in the universe. Even after he takes her captive, Marianna can’t shake her initial instincts that he’s a man of worth…and her only chance at escaping death. One of Sanctify’s most decorated lieutenants, Gerard Leoni thought he had everything figured out. But then he crosses paths with a Diviner, the most despised of the alien races, and is honor-bound to bring her in. One night with Marianna makes him question everything he knows. As the day of her scheduled execution draws near,
Publisher: Entangled Publishing

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

the high
Priestess
a Sanctify Novella

Katee Robert

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Katee Robert. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Edited by Heather Howland

Cover design by Heather Howland

ISBN 978-1-62061-140-1

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition March 2012

To Mom.

You never once doubted that I could do this.

Thank you so much. Love you!

Chapter One

An unnatural calm blanketed the streets of Keiluna, as if its residents sensed a predator in their midst, searching for the perfect kill.

They were right.

Gerard checked his laser, white robe swishing against his legs with every step. He lived for this moment of the hunt, when the world narrowed to him and the comforting wall of his men at his back. Here and now, he could forget how close he’d come to losing his position, his boy, everything—all because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. Keiluna was a filthy cesspool, infested with aliens from every corner of the universe. Taking out a single cell of them wouldn’t do shit for the greater good.

Too bad when he voiced his opinion to the High Priest, he’d been punished.

Gerard rolled his shoulders, his skin still feeling the sting of a phantom lash. It wasn’t that he hated pain—it was one of the few constants of his life—but he wasn’t a fan of being humiliated in front of the entire regiment. Those men looked up to him as a leader. Or they used to. Since the demonstration when he’d been whipped for publically questioning the wisdom of Sanctify’s rapid expansion, many of the men he considered friends had fallen away, their greetings replaced by sideways looks and downcast eyes. Not Fisk, though. That idiot would stand by Gerard no matter what they were up against. Even the High Priest himself.

But this wasn’t the place for distractions. His rage at the High Priest was far more useful at the moment. Despite his anger—or maybe because of it—Gerard found himself muttering Ba’al’s Benediction under his breath.

“Purity will protect you.

Through the darkness of space

Only Ba’al’s light will shine;

Cleansing the filth,

Purifying the unclean,

Spreading peace through his vengeance.

In his light, forgiveness

In his hands, life

In the High Priest, truth

In servitude, eternity.”

As the words from his childhood rolled off his lips, calm settled over Gerard. Just like it always did. Even when things were at their darkest, his faith never failed to bring comfort. He might not have had a mother or a father while growing up, but he’d had Sanctify.

It was time. He nodded to Adam when they reached the coordinates he’d received, getting a toothy grin in response. The man loved killing more than anyone Gerard knew—except the High Priest—and there was bound to be blood spilled tonight.

Behind that sea-green door was a group of Bolkerian mercenaries driven enough to sign on with anyone working against Sanctify. If one of them hadn’t had the support of a very generous backer, they never would have risen far enough to gain notice. A fatal mistake.

“Finish it quickly.” At his signal, Adam and Fisk kicked in the door, pouring through to the room beyond. Gerard took in the room in a single blink—two Bolkerians against the far wall, two at a table near the other exit. All male. Thank Ba’al. The females were notoriously harder to kill.

Adam and Fisk moved to the right, taking out the first before it could respond. Attacking quickly was their only hope. Once these things got moving, there was no stopping them. Gerard sidestepped through the door, careful to keep his back to the wall, and followed Davis and Blaine left. Since both were only three months out of training, they needed more help than the other two. While the newbies shot wildly at the sitting Bolkerian, Gerard took aim at the standing one. The male spun toward him, meter-long back-spikes scraping along the wall in its attempt to move quickly. Its squinty black eyes peered over a furred muzzle a moment before Gerard pulled the trigger.

The body hit the ground, a crater where its head had been. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and sighed. After all this time, his emotions were bracketed by a wall of calm even killing couldn’t touch. Just another pest put down to ensure the safety of Sanctify.

The newbies managed to finish off their Bolkerian, though the body was marked up with far too many laser burns. The only place laser fire could successfully penetrate a Bolkerian’s thick, leathery shell was around its neck and head. To hit anywhere else was wasteful. He’d have to talk to them later about accuracy and weak points.

On the other side of the room, Adam and Fisk stood over the struggling body of the final creature. Adam pushed the shorter man. “Get out of my way.”

Fisk shoved him back. “No. This isn’t right.”

Adam jumped forward, arm raised to deliver a blow, but he was forced to dance back at the last minute to avoid the back-spikes of the dying Bolkerian. With a growl, he turned to Gerard, blue eyes demanding. “Tell him.”

Tension had been rising between Fisk and their blond squad mate for some time now. Gerard had hoped it would keep until they reached Sanctus again, but apparently that was too much to ask for. He pointed at the newbies. “Secure the perimeter and make sure there’s no one else around.” As they scrambled over each other to obey, he wondered if he’d ever been so young.

Turning back, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain. Now.”

“What’s there to explain?” Adam shrugged, his broad shoulders nearly taking up the entire width of the doorway. “Fisk’s in my way. Hells, he’s practically a sympathizer.”

“Take that back.” Fisk took a step in his direction, but stopped when Gerard held up a hand. “You can’t honestly expect me to stand by and let him throw around those kinds of insults. I should cut out his Ba’al-damned tongue.”

Obviously things were worse than he thought if Fisk was threatening personal injury on anyone—even Adam. Gerard wanted to tell them to stop acting like kids and stow their issues until they reached home, but a good leader didn’t let something like this slide. “Enough. Both of you. Fisk, spit it out before I lose my patience.”

The Bolkerian gave a low moan, its thrashing slowing. Fisk looked down, his too-long dark hair falling into his face. Damnit, Gerard had told him to cut it before it got him killed by obscuring his vision. “He was going to torture it.”

Gerard blinked. “Elaborate.”

“You’re not stupid.” Fisk motioned at the dying creature. “He wanted to play with it.”

Adam gave a heavy sigh. “He’s being dramatic. I merely wanted a chance to try out my new laser on its shell.”

It seemed plausible enough—if they were talking about anyone else—but Adam had developed a taste for pain. Anyone’s but his own. These days, even being in the same room as him made the small hairs on the back of Gerard’s neck rise.

“We’re on a mission, which means you don’t have time for such luxuries. Fisk, put that thing out of its misery.” Fisk obeyed instantly, shooting the Bolkerian point-blank in the face. It went limp, dark brown spikes hitting the floor with a heavy thump.

Another thump echoed through the ceiling above them.

Gerard had half a second to shout a warning before a ball of spikes came rolling down the stairs. Adam dove farther into the room, barely getting out of the way in time. The thing unfurled to a height of well over Gerard’s two meters, its muzzle bared in a snarl, dull red eyes focused on him and him alone.

“A fucking female.” Of course. How could his day get any worse?

Gerard regretted the thought as soon as the damn thing charged him. Claws, each nearly the size of his hand, swiped past his head. He ducked, trying to get an angle for a shot, but it closed the distance too fast. All he could see was chest fur and spikes and claws. Scrambling back, he hit the wall just as the thing kicked him, tearing into his side.

With a war cry, Davis came flying into the room, skidding to a halt in front of the creature. Then Adam and Fisk were there as well, taking turns firing, luring it away from where Gerard slid to the ground, his vision graying. He raised his laser, aiming carefully. When the Bolkerian turned toward Fisk, arm upraised in a move that would gut the man, Gerard pulled the trigger, taking it in the neck. The thing mewled and listed to the side.

“Out of the way.” Fisk pulled Adam back just as the creature toppled.

Davis wasn’t so lucky. One of the spikes pinned his leg. The female rolled, cutting off his screams as it covered him. Gerard stared at the thin river of blood curving its way from beneath the Bolkerian’s body. It merged with the other pool next to the nearest male, the two reds exactly the same color.

What in Ba’al’s name was wrong with him? It shouldn’t matter if some aliens bled red. Why was he even thinking about this?

Shaking his head did nothing but make his dizziness worse. Each breath tore through him as if someone were sticking a poker into his wound. Bolkerians weren’t poisonous, but the female had gotten him good. The bleeding wouldn’t stop without formal treatment. He looked up at Fisk and Adam, their concerned expressions doing nothing to reassure him. Gerard opened his mouth to give the command to retreat to the ship when raised voices reached his ears. At first, he thought they were a hallucination, but both Adam and Fisk went still in front of him. Even straining, he couldn’t make out the words, but the tone said enough.

They were in trouble.

Pushing to his feet nearly made him pass out, but his men wouldn’t follow orders if they thought he was about to keel over. It was an effort to keep the pain from his voice, but he’d had years of practice. “Get to the ship and send a report to the High Priest.”

Adam nodded and disappeared out the back door. Fisk was another story. He eyed Gerard, focusing on the hand he held against his side. The fabric was already soaked through, blood darkening the perfect white of the robe. “You’re injured.”

“Which is why you need to leave me behind. I can’t keep up right now.” As shit as that was.

For a moment, it looked as if Fisk would argue, but he finally nodded. “Let me at least help you out of the robe.”

Smart. Gerard should have thought of it himself. That he didn’t spoke volumes of his injury, but he just nodded and let Fisk help him out of the white cloth that marked him as a member of Sanctify. The shouts loomed closer, nearly to the front door. Gerard jerked his chin at the stairway. “Take the rooftops. I’ll go out the back.”

“There’s a brother in arms who runs a bar about half a kilometer away. Follow the street and take your second left. It’s called The Hammer. He’ll patch you up while we wait for things to calm down.”

The front door groaned as someone on the other side threw himself against it. “Go. Now.”

Fisk nodded, but he waited until Gerard pushed off the wall and stumbled through the back door. The night, so calm before, was now filled with angry shouts. How disgustingly typical that these people would come out in arms to defend the monsters in their midst. Didn’t they realize how dangerous aliens were? Any species other than humans wasn’t to be trusted.

Chapter Two

The back door led into a narrow alley used as a trash lane. Gerard held his side as he moved carefully around the disposal pipelines spiraling from the buildings into the ground. The giant tubes were easily large enough to fit a grown man. There were tales of children falling into the shoots and disappearing into the darkness, killed by either the fall or the incinerators beneath the surface, but Gerard didn’t put much stock in stories.

It took longer than he wanted to reach the street and, as a result, his head was spinning as he rounded the corner leading to the bar. There were still sounds of a fight somewhere behind him, but Gerard didn’t worry about his squad. They could take care of themselves—if they couldn’t, they weren’t fit to serve Ba’al in the spreading of purity and peace through the universe.

Too bad Gerard couldn’t take care of himself in his current condition. The irony of that wasn’t lost on him. Step by staggering step, he made his way to the flashing neon sign depicting a hammer and shouldered through the door.

Gerard blinked. The smoke saturating the place made it difficult to pick out the figures hunched over every table, huddling together in low conversation. He stumbled through the maze of chairs and half fell against the bar. The bartender put down the rag he’d been wiping the pitted counter with and leaned over. “Something I can help you with?”

Gerard put his hand over the other man’s, praying to Ba’al that Fisk was right about a brother in arms. “I need assistance.”

The man’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the blood. “Of course.” He jumped over the bar in a smooth movement and slipped an arm around his waist. The second the man put pressure on the wound, Gerard’s entire world shifted sideways and went black.

…

When the stranger stumbled through the room, the impulse to do a reading rolled over Marianna. He was obviously injured, his hand never wavering from its place against his side, and every instinct screamed he was trouble of the worst kind—exactly the type of thing she avoided. She bit her lip, fighting the need to pull out her cards. This wasn’t the time or the place for such things.

He swayed as Sven grabbed him, entire body going slack. Marianna was halfway out of her seat before she realized she’d moved. With a mental curse, she slid back into the chair and watched Sven haul the unconscious man into the back. It wasn’t her responsibility to make sure he was okay.

The push got stronger, pulsing beneath her skin until it was everything she could do not to scratch at it.

She took a shaky sip of her drink. Why this man? Why now? With all the med gel and supplies they had on hand, he’d be fixed up in no time. She couldn’t risk him emerging from the back room and seeing her cards.

But there was no change in the ants-under-her-skin feeling.

Marianna gritted her teeth. Fine. Unwilling—and unable—to deny the impulse any longer, her hand strayed to the worn cloth bag. The cards were her conduit to the Lady—to ignore their warning was to court death.

After a quick glance around to ensure no one watched, she slipped the cards free and shuffled them under the table. The deck had been her mother’s before she died. Marianna still had her grandfather’s spare deck stored away in a locked chest filled with some of her parents’ things, but it had never felt as natural in her hands as this one did.

All the locals knew she was a Diviner, one of the Lady’s people, but there were strangers mixed in with the crowd tonight. While Keiluna was a planet known for its tolerance of any and all alien life, Marianna wasn’t willing to risk her health and well-being on that fact. There had been rumors of Sanctify ships spotted in the quadrant, and wherever those sadistic monsters went, alien blood flowed. And that was only for your typical, run-of-the-mill alien.

A Diviner’s fate was so much worse.

Marianna sent up a quick prayer to the Lady for guidance, flipped over three cards, and sat back, tapping two fingers against her bottom lip. Usually a basic past, present, and future reading more than sufficed, but this reading wasn’t particularly clear. The Star was simple enough—hope, helping an individual to prevail through hard times. Definitely her past. She’d gotten through her ill-spent adolescence on a steady diet of hope and, unlike so many of her childhood friends, went on to make a living in a way that didn’t involve petty theft—even if she did retain quite a few of the skills she’d learned from Darla.

With a sigh, she moved on to the next card. The High Priestess indicated that she should trust her intuition. Fair enough. As a Diviner, she knew the truth in that better than most people.

The final card was The World. Sometime in the future, she would reach a new stage, and something would change fundamentally in her life.

Marianna sighed again. The reading was about as clear as mud. Definitely not worth the risk she’d taken by doing it in public.

With a final glare at the offending cards, she gathered them up and slipped the bag back into the pocket she’d sewn into the inside of her coat. Its two layers deterred all but the most determined pickpockets. Theft wasn’t much of a concern with the way she was dressed—drab, too-loose clothing, her hair pinned up under a hat—but Marianna was always careful. There had been violence on the wind lately. It was best not to draw attention to herself with so many tempers riding hot.

Time passed and the bar’s patrons came and went, several nodding to her though no one approached her booth. Finally, what felt like an eternity later, the back door swished open, and the stranger staggered back into the room. He must have been hurt worse than she thought for the healing to take so long. Even now, he was pale beneath his tanned skin, black hair sticking out haphazardly in a way that suggested he’d run his fingers through it recently. Lines bracketed his mouth, the only indication of the pain he must be experiencing. Those dark eyes certainly gave nothing away.

Drawn by an impulse she couldn’t explain any more than the one that had pushed her to do a reading, Marianna slid out of her booth and skirted the wall, coming up between him and the back door. The desire to meet this man, to talk to him, pulsed beneath her skin in time with her heartbeat. The cards had told her to trust her intuition, and her intuition insisted he was important, vitally so.

She tapped his arm. “I’ve never seen you in here before.”

The look he turned on her would have sent a different woman running.

Marianna just smiled. She’d seen far more terrifying things while growing up on the streets. “Allow me to buy you a drink.” Before he could say no, she signaled Sven to bring two glasses of the special liquor they brewed on-planet. Most tourists couldn’t handle drinking it straight, but she had a feeling this man wouldn’t have a problem with it.

“I don’t want a drink.”

She cocked her hip against the bar, picking up the closest glass. “While I’m inclined to respect your wishes, this isn’t the type of bar you show up to and not drink.” Marianna leaned closer, well aware that her billed cap shadowed her eyes, leaving him nowhere to focus but her lips. It was a trick she’d learned out of necessity. The deep violet color of her eyes marked her as a Diviner. It wasn’t something she normally worried about, but a stranger—even an injured stranger—couldn’t be trusted as a friend. Hells, for all she knew, he was a member of Sanctify.

Marianna shook off the thought as soon as it occurred to her. The Lady wouldn’t push her into meeting this man if he meant to kill her. At least…she was reasonably sure She wouldn’t.

He turned to face the rest of the room. It was difficult to tell, but she counted at least six people watching, all with varying degrees of hostility. The Hammer wasn’t very welcoming of strangers, especially ones who mistreated Marianna. Even in this part of town, where aliens weren’t completely accepted, people sought her out for readings. Getting a glimpse of the future was worth its weight in credits, even if most of them wouldn’t admit to visiting her in the first place. Personally, that was fine with Marianna. Attention was all well and good—until things turned ugly and people wanted a scapegoat. Better to cruise below the radar and survive.

The man sighed. “Fine.” He nodded at the booth she’d just vacated. “Shall we?”

Marianna allowed him to lead the way, giving her the opportunity to frown at a few of the old-timers huddled around the nearest table, playing with a deck of cards nearly as ancient as they were. Their expressions relaxed into grins that were all a few teeth short of a set, and they went back to their game.

After sliding in across from the man, she sat back and looked her fill. He had a harsh face that was strangely attractive, but there was nothing to indicate why she’d felt the impulse to approach him. The silence stretched between them as they sipped their drinks. When it was clear he wouldn’t be the first one to speak, she asked, “So do you have a name?”

“I don’t see why it matters.”

What a prickly fellow. Marianna allowed herself a small laugh. “Well, generally when two people meet, they exchange names.”

He made a face like he wanted to argue but, once more, she beat him to the punch. “The alternative is my calling you Stranger while we sit here and drink.”

“You aren’t going to quit, are you?” An unexpected grin deepened the brackets lining his mouth and sent an equally unexpected surge of warmth through her body. She hadn’t felt something like this since…Lady, it’d been nearly a year. How extraordinarily depressing.

“Of course not. I bought you a drink—you’re mine for the duration of it.”

Chapter Three

Gerard had no time for women, especially ones with lips like hers. Hadn’t he learned his lesson a thousand times over from Lizbeth? That female had been as mean as she was beautiful. She’d taken one look at Gerard and decided to have him for her own. While he wasn’t originally opposed to the scenario—seeing as they both got something out of it—he’d never intended to have children. The universe was scary enough without bringing a helpless kid into it. And look how that ended up.

When Gerard shifted, it pulled at his newly patched wound, the discomfort bringing him back to the present. This woman, whoever she was, was no Lizbeth. It wouldn’t kill him to share a drink with a pretty girl. It wasn’t as if he usually had time for things like this.

“My name is Gerard.” He leaned forward, ignoring the slivers of pain spiking through his ribs, and tried to see beneath the hat she had pulled so low. Everything about her was carefully chosen to blend in. All of her clothes were baggy, the jacket large enough that if he couldn’t see the distinctly feminine line of her chin and curve of her lips, he’d wonder at her gender. The hair peeking out of the cap was an indeterminate length and silver-blond—not a color he saw often, which was probably why she kept it hidden. There was no telling what she’d look like if he could get her out of some of those clothes…

Gerard mentally cursed himself for even considering it.

Her smile was sweet and he felt it like a kick to the chest. “Gerard? That’s quite the name.”

How was he supposed to respond to that? “It’s the one I was born with.”

“The majority of them are.” She held out a delicate hand, the skin so pale it was almost translucent. “I’m Marianna. It just so happens that it’s not the same one I was born with.”

Curiosity blossomed as he took her hand, careful to keep a gentle grip to avoid hurting her. She was so slight. Fragile, almost. Someone to be protected—

Training kicked in, demanding that he shut his mouth and leave. Nothing good could come from further conversation with this woman. But Gerard couldn’t bring himself to move away from her. “What name were you born with?”

“It makes no difference.” She shrugged. “That name died with my mother and father.”

“You don’t have any other family?”

Another shrug. “There’s a grandfather out there, lost among the stars. He used to pop back in and make sure I was still alive, but he never stayed long.”

“He left you.” The thought of abandoning his own flesh and blood twisted something in Gerard’s chest.

“Grandfather suffers from a severe case of wanderlust. There was no room for a child in his life.”

“That’s no excuse.”

“Perhaps not. It’s far too late to worry about it now.”

So she was an orphan. Just like him. It didn’t matter—hundreds of his brothers shared the same fate. Still, he found himself speaking. “My parents were killed by an Abura-Sumashi when I was an infant.” The High Priest was the one who had found him—he’d only be an enforcer back then—and taken him in. He owed the man—owed Sanctify—everything.

And now he had Oberon to take care of. Gerard owed it to the boy to keep his head down and obey orders, no matter if he agreed with the path Sanctify was taking or not.

“I’m sorry.” She actually sounded like she meant it.

“Why? I never knew them.”

“So what brings you to our humble establishment? Your injury?”

“Injury?” Gerard scanned the rest of the room, squinting against the smoke that stung his eyes, and wondered how many of them knew. Fool. All of them. It wasn’t like he thought of that before stumbling through the front door. Just because the owner was a brother to Sanctify’s cause didn’t mean his patrons were. The rookie mistake burned in the back of his throat, heating his face until he was sure Marianna could see the blush spreading over his skin.

Her smile took on a sharp edge. “Yes, injury. You weren’t exactly subtle about it when you passed out.”

Which meant he needed to get out of here, and fast. If there were enemies among the crowded tables, they were probably waiting for the chance to knife him in the back. The spot between his shoulder blades itched at the thought. Gerard slid the link from his pocket, but there were no waiting messages, which meant his options were limited. He could stay here or wander the streets until Fisk or Adam gave the all clear. Judging from the way his head still swam, the latter wasn’t the most intelligent plan he’d ever had.

He looked up to find her still smiling. An awful, idiot idea occurred to him, slipping out of his mouth before he could think better of it. “Do you know somewhere we can go?”

“To be alone?” Her smile widened, both teasing him and inviting him to be in on the joke.

“Something like that.” Gerard found himself smiling in return. “I was thinking of getting something to eat.”

“You mean the beaten old InstaChef in the corner isn’t tickling your fancy? The selection is quite nice—synth-beef, synth-brats, and synth-pork. Do you like meat, Gerard?”

He blinked. Surely she didn’t realize how that could be construed? Then again, from the way she was smiling, Marianna knew exactly what she was saying. “I’m not overly fond of…meat.”

She laughed, the sound reminding him of Sanctify’s bells—totally and completely pure. “It would be a crying shame if you were. Come with me—I know the perfect place.”

Gerard stood after she did, taking her outstretched hand without pause. A curious warmth spread through him, fueled by her touch. It wasn’t until they slipped through the back door that he finally spoke again. “You aren’t planning to lure me into a dark alley to murder me, are you?”

…

The flash of humor caught Marianna completely off guard. She’d simply been trying to get him out of The Hammer before one of the good old boys decided to brew up trouble. From the expression on Gerard’s face as he’d examined their surroundings, he’d been about to kill someone. Marianna wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

Giving his hand another tug, she started walking down the street, watching the neon lights play on the cobblestones beneath her feet. Marianna loved Keiluna’s bar district. The colors and old-world architecture gave even the slowest night a festive feel. Sound of laughter and music drifted from the open windows, bringing with it a fascinating blend of sweet-smelling, blue-green smoke and perfume.

She glanced at Gerard as she towed him along, enjoying the simple feeling of touching him. When was the last time she’d casually touched another person? She couldn’t remember. The realization made her feel lonely and giddy, all at once. Part of her wanted to withdraw, to run back to her shop and hide. This wouldn’t last past tonight, after all. Whatever else Gerard was, he was still a stranger, and strangers rarely stayed on Keiluna longer than a few days. On the other hand, it had been so long since she’d done something for herself, sought any pleasure at all. The need to feel something was almost too much to bear.

The thought that he might be the wrong kind of stranger rose again, more persistent this time. Marianna pushed it away. Everyone knew members of Sanctify wore those hideous white robes, and Gerard was dressed in a simple pair of black pants and a loose gray shirt. Take in the fact that he was teasing her about luring him into a dark alley…

He wasn’t Sanctify. He couldn’t be.

She skipped forward a few steps, dragging him along behind her. “What a strange coincidence. A dark alley happens to be our destination.”

He gave a wicked grin that sent a shock of lightning through her. Oh Lady, she couldn’t turn down an opportunity like this. Gerard gave her hand a squeeze. “Then I lay myself in your hands. Do with me what you will.”

The invitation, on top of everything else, was too much temptation to resist. Marianna pulled him into the nearest alley and pushed him against the wall. A little more forward than she would normally be, but the heat building under her skin demanded she do something. She paused long enough to make sure the shadows hid them from any observers and then leaned in.

Marianna captured his mouth, her tongue darting out to meet his. Whiskers rasped against her skin and sent delicious chills through her body. Gerard jerked back, inhaling sharply. Even in the darkness, she could see how wide his eyes were. She blinked—surely she hadn’t misinterpreted his signals? More than a little stung, Marianna started to move away. If he didn’t want her, then so be it. It wasn’t as if she really needed another complication in her life right now, and this man was nothing if not—

He hooked the back of her neck and yanked her against him.

Cautious of his healing wound, Marianna tried to stop her forward momentum, but Gerard’s mouth found hers and chased away all rational thought. His hands were everywhere, beneath her jacket, knocking off her hat, cupping her backside to draw her closer. Those Ladydamned whiskers would be her undoing. Or perhaps his tongue was the problem, twining with hers, tasting of the alcohol he’d been drinking. It left her light-headed, intoxicated with the chemistry screaming between them.

Marianna had a moment to wonder if she should grab her hat, but then Gerard gave a muffled moan, one hand tangling in the hair tumbling down around her shoulders, and her worry slipped away. She gave a moan of her own and slipped her arms around his neck, going up on her tiptoes.

Something vibrated against her hip, a chirping sound cutting through the night. Gerard pulled back, breathing hard, and leaned his forehead against hers. “Thirty seconds.”

She would need a bit longer than that to regain her composure. Marianna rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand. “Of course.”

Turning away, he fished a link from his pocket and spoke quietly into it. Too quietly for her to eavesdrop. To distract herself, she scanned the ground for her hat. It was too risky to walk the streets without it these days, not with word spreading of Sanctify’s growing presence. They hated anything different from their purity-obsessed standards—so basically anyone who wasn’t totally and completely human. And they had a special place in their torture dungeon for Diviners. She knew that all too well after what had happened to her uncles.

“Marianna.”

She looked up to find him in the mouth of the alley, his hands clasped awkwardly in front of him. There was only one explanation for the apology in the way he said her name. “You’re leaving.”

It was what she expected. He was a stranger, and strangers came and went on Keiluna the same way the winter storms did—here one night to trash the place, and gone the next morning before the market opened—but she thought she’d have longer than this.

“I wish I wasn’t.” To his credit, he actually sounded as if he meant it.

“Perhaps in another life.”

Gerard held out a hand and she took it, letting him pull her into the neon lights of the street, each announcing a different bar, a different special of the night. “I don’t think I can wait that long. But next time my business brings me—”

Disbelief dawned on his face, quickly followed by horror. Marianna’s instincts screamed at her to run, to fight, to do anything but stand still as his hold tightened to a painful level.

“Diviner.” The word came out like the vilest curse.

In that moment she knew, though her soul cried out at the unfairness of the Lady pushing her into this meeting. “You’re one of those monsters, aren’t you? Sanctify.”

“I’m not the monster in this scenario.” He pushed her back into the alley, peering down into her eyes as if they were the source of every problem that plagued his life. “Your kind is a blasphemy of the highest order.”

Lady save her from murderous idiots like this one. Had she really thought he was attractive in a dangerous sort of way? Gerard was just plain dangerous. “Let me go, and I’ll take my blasphemous self from your sight.”

“Let you go?” He was already shaking his head before he finished speaking. “No. Absolutely not. You’re coming with me.”

The first real thrill of fear coursed through her. “What are you talking about?” Surely, he couldn’t mean what his words implied. And yet her Ladydamned instincts whispered that he wasn’t joking.

“All blasphemers must be purified.” His words came out hollow, as if it were nothing to threaten her with death by dismemberment and burning.

Panic sprang to life in her chest, its wings fierce as it tried to fly out her throat. “Please. No.” Then she realized she was begging for sanity from a madman. Sanctify didn’t see the humanity in aliens—they only saw the difference. There would be no mercy for her.

So be it.

She dropped to a crouch, pulling him off balance, and grabbed the shiv from the inside of her jacket. Switching her grip on it, Marianna struck out, aiming for his injured side. Even now, she didn’t go for a mortal wound, instead hitting the outer edge of his hip. Gerard growled as he went to his knees, grip never faltering. She swiped at him again, but he knocked the shiv from her hand with no apparent effort. “Enough.”

“Damn you.” No matter how much she wriggled and fought, he refused to release her. “Let me go.”

Footsteps echoed in the alley and Marianna twisted, opening her mouth to scream for help. The plea died in her throat when she saw the white robes.

There truly was no hope for her now.

Chapter Four

The Diviner looked so small and fragile once Adam took her coat and magcuffed her. She knelt, staring at Gerard with those unnatural violet eyes. He wanted to tell her to turn away, but it would show how uncomfortable he was and he couldn’t risk that in front of the men.

“Here.” Adam tossed over the jacket.

Thankful for something to distract himself, Gerard rifled through the pockets, coming up with another shiv, a lock-picking kit, and an old bag. There was no mistaking what the bag held—her cursed cards. He should burn them now, preferably with witchfire to make sure the job got done, but something held him back. “Get her to the ship.”

Fisk sighed as he tossed her over his shoulder. Marianna didn’t make a sound, though the impact must have jarred her something terrible. Gerard smothered a tiny thread of sympathy that threatened to bleed through him, his lips silently moving in Ba’al’s Benediction.

Purity will protect you.

Through the darkness of space

Only Ba’al’s light will shine;

Cleansing the filth…

Except Marianna didn’t seem like filth. She seemed fragile and kind and innocent—well, maybe not innocent. Gerard shook his head and forced back the memory of her mouth going soft against his, continuing the chant.

Purifying the unclean,

Spreading peace through his vengeance.

In his light, forgiveness

In his hands, life

In the High Priest, truth

In servitude, eternity.

Odd how going through the prayer did little to smother the phantom feeling of guilt working its way through him. Guilt was a useless emotion. The Diviner would be his ticket back into the High Priest’s good graces. Gerard needed her. End of story.

He pressed a hand to his side and winced. Those med patches hadn’t held up when she cut him. Even now, Gerard could feel them peeling away from his skin, their seal broken.

“You okay?” Fisk wasn’t even breathing hard as they walked down the street, but then, the woman couldn’t weigh more than fifty-five kilograms soaking wet. With each step, it became harder to connect her with the monsters the High Priest preached of. While her use of the cards might be blasphemous, it wasn’t as if she were capable of doing real harm.

“I’m fine.” His wound pulled again, and he mentally amended the thought—she wasn’t capable of much real harm. Marianna had the chance to do him serious injury when they’d struggled—he’d been wide open—and she’d chosen instead to wing him. It was more than a little odd, which doubled the doubt threading through his conviction. He smothered it—there was no room for doubts, not now. This was right, damn it.

“You don’t look fine.” Adam moved up on Fisk’s other side, gaze roving over the Diviner. “Though she does. Think the High Priest will let me play with her?”

“No.” Under no circumstances would the man touch Marianna. Gerard rounded on Adam, barely fighting back the impulse to beat the teasing grin from his face. “Stay away from her.”

Adam cackled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You can have the little bitch all to yourself. All you had to do was say you wanted her.”

“I don’t want her.” Lie. He’d wanted her a whole hells of a lot until he’d realized what species she was. Ba’al be damned, Gerard could still taste her on his lips. “But the High Priest will.”

“I can’t hardly wait.” Adam actually went so far as to clap his hands together. “I’ve never seen a purifying ritual for a Diviner before. Isaiah said there’s nothing that compares to it.”

Gerard had seen one. Once. And Ba’al forgive him, but he’d hoped to never see it again. The Diviner killed four of their men before they took him down, which should have made his death easier to watch. But, by the end, it had been everything Gerard could do not to turn away from the gory spectacle.

And Marianna was destined for the same fate.

Shoving the thought from his mind, he exchanged a look with Fisk. The other man had stood beside him while the last Diviner died, and Fisk hadn’t liked it any more than he did.

Gerard checked behind them. “Shut the hells up, Adam. Let Blaine know we’re coming.”

He moved off, pulling a link from his pocket and speaking softly into it. Fisk shifted closer to Gerard. “Do you really mean to do this?”

“Do what?” Her blond hair had come loose of its bindings, falling around her face and hiding those eyes from sight. Like this, she could almost pass for a human they’d taken by mistake.

“Take her to Sanctus.” Fisk lowered his voice further. “She’s a woman—barely more than a child. Can you really stand by and watch her die like the last one?”

“I don’t have a choice. She’s a Diviner. You know what Ba’al teaches about their kind.” The thought left a sharp pain in his stomach. It was the damned wound. Probably. It certainly wasn’t blasted guilt again.

Damnit, no. He was on the path of righteousness—to question Ba’al’s word was to question the very foundation of his upbringing. He pressed a hand against his wound, letting the pain roll over him, crystallizing his anger. This was what came of aliens mingling with humans. He might not agree with a full expansion into the universe, but Sanctify’s mission was a holy one. Reflexively, he brought up the last part of Ba’al’s Benediction—it usually did the trick with any worrisome emotions he didn’t want to deal with.

In his light, forgiveness

In his hands, life

In the High Priest, truth

In servitude, eternity.

Fisk shook his head as if he could hear the phantom lines running through Gerard’s head. “I won’t try to stand in your way, but you better be sure before you do this, Gerard. Some things you can’t come back from.”

“I follow the law.” Even if it sometimes stuck in his throat like a Ba’al-damned knife.

“The law isn’t absolute and you know it.” Fisk looked at Adam, who was still talking on the link. “Just say the word and we’ll find a way to set her free.”

A small voice urged him to take Fisk’s offer. He didn’t want to see her dismembered and burned to death. And yet…twenty years of training were nothing to set aside just because he made the mistake of kissing her. Even if it was quite possibly the best kiss of his life.

Adam shut off the link and rejoined them, grinning madly. “A Diviner. And here I thought this job was a complete bust. Bummer about Davis, though. At least we managed to get the body for burial.”

It took Gerard a full thirty seconds to register what he meant. One of the newbies had been impaled beneath the female Bolkerian’s spikes—something a good commander never would have forgotten. He swallowed, tasting bile at the back of his throat. “He shall receive the honor of the funeral rite. A proper burial with all the trappings of a warrior of Sanctify.”

Adam snorted. “As if that ever helped anyone. Dead is dead.”

…

Marianna fought off panic with every ounce of her control. They hauled her around as if she were a sack of laundry, and spoke of her death so matter-of-factly. A truly terrible death.

She lifted her arms until her hair hid her wrists. The magcuffs were standard issue, and easily unlocked—if she had her kit. But it was safely tucked inside the jacket now in Gerard’s hands. No help from that quarter.

How fortunate that Darla taught her years ago to never keep all her tricks in one place. Marianna carefully pulled out the necklace hidden beneath her shirt. Inside the locket was an antitech device. It only had enough zing for one charge, but it would unlock her cuffs.

Which solved one problem, while still leaving three white-robed ones. Marianna wasn’t much of a fighter—hells, she couldn’t bring herself to take down one injured man, let alone another two healthy ones—but she had to try. Her death warrant was signed and sealed the moment they boarded the ship.

Inhaling deeply, she flipped open the locket and awkwardly pressed it against the cuffs, pushing on the button with her forefinger. They snapped opened with a quiet click, and she scrambled to catch them before they hit the ground. Thank the Lady she hadn’t bothered with a haircut in years.

Marianna moved before she could talk herself out of it, taking the cuffs in a two-handed grip, and twisting up and around, hitting her captor in the side of the head. He grunted and stumbled, his hold loosening enough for her to wiggle free. Hitting the ground hurt, jarring something in her shoulder, but she kept moving. There were cries of anger behind her, but she scrambled to her feet and started running.

Three steps later, a weight hit her from behind, taking her to the ground. Marianna screamed, partly in pain, partly in hope that someone would hear and come riding to her rescue. A vain hope, as it turned out.

The man who’d tackled her flipped Marianna over and backhanded her. As casual as the move looked, the sound of it cracked through the night and her head bounced on the cobblestone street. The last thing she heard before her world swam to gray was the sound of more shouting.

…

“What in Ba’al’s name are you doing?” Gerard grabbed the back of Adam’s robe and hauled him off Marianna, taking a precious second to shake the man before he tossed him to the side. Gerard went to his knees, scooping her up and trying to check for injuries at the same time. That thrice-damned voice inside him whispered that it shouldn’t matter if she were injured—she was destined to die, after all. Gerard ignored it, smoothing her hair back to examine the wound oozing blood from her temple. A dangerous place for an injury, but since she still breathed, it was likely not fatal.

“Have you lost your damned mind?” Adam shoved to his feet, skin turning a mottled red. “She was trying to escape. I stopped her. Why the hells are your panties in a twist?”

“You had her down—there was no reason to hit her.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?” Adam started toward him but then Fisk was between them, still clutching the side of his head.

“We don’t have time for this.” Gerard lifted his hand, which was wet with her blood. “People will be out soon and we’re in no shape to take on anyone right now. Adam, take point.”

“I’ll take the girl.”

“Like hells you will.” Gerard clenched his fists and tried for a more moderate tone. “Fisk can take care of it.” The way Adam had handled her attempted escape only solidified his previous stance. He wouldn’t trust the man near Marianna in any way, shape, or form.

“What? But he’s—”

“I’m fine. Take point, Adam.” Fisk waited until the blond man started moving before he turned and glared at Gerard. “This is your fault. You never should have taken her, but it’s too late now.”

Chapter Five

Marianna woke cuffed to a bed. She started to turn her head and froze as pain rolled over her in waves. A few deep breaths fought down the nausea, but spots still danced across her vision. Ladydamnit.

All she wanted to do was curl into a ball and sleep until everything disappeared, but this situation wasn’t going to go away simply because she willed it to. Which meant she had to do something proactive. She tilted her head, trying to see the bindings, and nearly cursed aloud when they revealed themselves to be magcuffs. Again. Given that her wrists were pinned on either side of the cot frame, it was unlikely she could get free, even under the best of circumstances. And these circumstances were hardly the best of anything.

The door swooshed open and the short, dark man from before came into the room. He did a double take when he met her gaze, mouth dropping open. “Those things really are eerie.”

“Those things” apparently meant her eyes, since he couldn’t seem to tear his attention away. Well, turnabout was fair play. She took him in, trying to figure out if this man was a potential ally. A foolish thought, to be sure—he was a member of Sanctify, after all—but the idea took root and demanded she put some consideration behind it.

He wasn’t unattractive, exactly, but the pockmarks on his skin spoke of a difficult youth. His black eyes showed nothing, no emotion for her to capitalize on. And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling the Lady was telling her this man was important—to what, though, was anyone’s guess. “Hello.”

“You shouldn’t speak.” He grabbed a cloth from the cabinet and crossed the room to crouch next to the cot. “I need to examine your head.”

Marianna let him tilt her chin down, his fingers curiously gentle considering he was the enemy. “You mean I shouldn’t speak so you don’t see me as an actual person.”

“You’re a Diviner.” As if that was everything he needed to know about her. It was a distancing trick, and a pathetic one.

Well, she was having none of that. “My name is Marianna. I’m twenty-four years old.”

The stranger’s grip tightened on her chin as he swabbed her temple. “I know what you’re playing at, and it won’t do any good. We’ve already spaced. Even if I was willing to help you—and that’s not saying I am—there’s nothing I can do.”

“Then at least give me the decency of human conversation, since it seems my fate is already decided.”

Gerard’s voice cut through the room. “You aren’t human.”

They both flinched as he walked into the room, his expression so cold it was everything she could do to fight back a shiver.

“Get out of here, Fisk.”

The smaller man stood, the bloody cloth still in his hand. “She needs food and rest. And to get out of those Ba’al-damned cuffs. It’s not like she has anywhere to run.”

Gerard glared down at her. “She’s a problem-starter.”

Fisk snorted. “She’s a woman—they’re all problem-starters.”

Of course, the larger man found no humor in that. “We’ll speak of this later.”

“I wait in suspense for that conversation.” He paused in the doorway. “You know my feelings on this.”

Again, a small flame of hope kindled in Marianna’s chest. She tried to label it for the false beacon it was, and yet it persisted. “Fisk?” Marianna pitched her voice high and girlish, knowing full well how fragile it made her sound. As Darla had explained, when you weren’t a fighter, you had to use what tools you had. Which meant Marianna had perfected blending in and, when she couldn’t do that, developing a knack for making people want to protect her. If she could make it work with Fisk, it might be an opening.

“Yes?”

“Get out.” Gerard’s face was getting red again, but Marianna couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

“Would it be possible to give back my belongings? Not the shivs, of course, but the rest of it?”

Fisk’s dark eyes missed nothing. “You want your cards.”

“Out,” Gerard said. “Now.”

Fisk left the room without another word, but Gerard had enough to spare. “You will not speak to my men. You will not attempt to attack, coerce, or touch them in any way. For the remainder of this flight, you will sit your ass on that cot and keep out of trouble or, Ba’al help me, I will bind you again myself. Or—”

He pressed his lips together and turned away. A distant part of Marianna wondered if he would strike her, but instead he paced the room, seeming to take up more than his fair share of space, the threat of violence screaming from every line of his body.

A smarter woman would have remained silent, but it wasn’t as if she had anything left to lose. Die here at his hands or later at someone else’s; it made no difference. If she were to be perfectly honest, the former held more appeal. Gerard didn’t seem the type to make his victims suffer.

“Or what?”

Gerard stopped in the middle of taking a step. “Excuse me?” His gaze skated over her body, eyes darkening with something like lust. Clearing his throat, Gerard resumed his pacing.

“I believe you heard me just fine.”

“Did you miss the part where I said I’d bind you?”

Marianna rattled her cuffs. “Seeing as I’m already bound, your threat lacks a certain something. And, as you plan on ultimately killing me, what is my motivation for good behavior?”

The silence stretched out for a brief moment before he roared, “Do you want to stay cuffed to that cot for the next two days?”

She fought back a shiver, not completely sure if came from fear or desire. Marianna had never been ignited by anger, but there was something about Gerard that made her want to soothe away his pain. Because the man had pain—she could almost see it, pulsing beneath his skin. “Not particularly.”

“Then be a good girl and shut the hells up.”

“You won’t hurt me.” Where the absurd words came from, she hadn’t the slightest clue, but they slid out of her mouth with the ease of a universal truth.

“Are you mad?” He scrubbed his hands over his face and up through his hair, the black locks standing on end. “What would possess you to say such a thing?”

“It’s the truth.” She watched him closely, taking in the way he made such a valiant effort to keep from looking at her body. Gerard still desired her, despite everything. He might hate himself for it, but he did. It was something she could—she would—use. “Unless you intend to assault me just to prove a point to yourself?”

“Assault you? I’ll show you a Ba’al-damned assault.”

Two steps and he was at the cot’s side, fingers flying over the magcuffs’ controls. They gave way with a muted click, falling from her wrists. Marianna barely had time to relish the air on her chafed skin before he grabbed her shoulders and hauled her off the mattress. “Get up.”

He let go of her so quickly, she stumbled, catching herself on the wall. Now, standing across from him with nothing but a small sink and a cabinet to use as distraction, a thread of doubt wound its way through her. What if she was wrong and he truly intended to hurt her? Marianna smothered the feeling before it could take root, lifting her chin. Nothing had changed.

He towered over her, easily a head and shoulders taller and twice as wide. “You are an idiot.”

“Am I?” She lifted her chin higher, hands fisting at her sides. “I am not the one who murders innocents.”

“And yet here you stand, so very alive.” Gerard moved closer, bringing them nearly chest to chest. “You’re playing in dangerous waters. Do not test me.”

“Again I ask—why not? There is nothing you can do that’s worse than what awaits me.”

His short beard should have hidden those tempting lips. Instead, it only framed them to perfection. Dangerous, tempting thoughts circled her head—thoughts mirrored in his eyes. Gerard’s mouth quirked, the sudden change of expression doing odd things to her stomach. “And again I say that you’re a damned idiot.”

Marianna licked her lips, achingly aware of the way his gaze sharpened on her. “You will not harm me.” Perhaps she truly was a fool for believing in that so strongly—even if he didn’t harm her, he would still stand by and watch her burn.

Unless she could convince him otherwise.

A perfectly mad thought blossomed in her mind. But this was the time for mad thoughts—they were all she had left. Marianna inhaled, her breasts rubbing against Gerard’s chest. She didn’t miss the way his breath caught at the touch. Perhaps it wasn’t such a mad idea after all.

Instead of moving back, she ran her hands up his torso, careful to avoid his side, and slid her arms around his neck. When he didn’t immediately resist, Marianna went up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Chapter Six

The woman cast a spell on him more convincingly than if she really were a witch. Even though he knew he should pull away, Gerard hugged her close, moving one hand up to cradle the back of Marianna’s head as he devoured her mouth. No one should taste as good as she did, her tongue darting against his, the touch draining away his remaining willpower. Or maybe it wasn’t her touch at all. Maybe it was those helpless little sounds she made as his free hand slipped beneath the back of her shirt, finding her skin so devastatingly soft. She arched against him, offering everything he could have ever wanted and more.

And he wanted. Oh, how he wanted.

Gerard tore away from her, shoving Marianna back onto the cot. He backpedaled until he hit the far wall, breathing hard. When she sat up, hair tousled and lips swollen from his kisses, it was everything he could do not to cross the room and keep going until they were both naked and coming.

He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, but it did nothing to take away the taste of her. “Don’t mistake me for a friend, Marianna.”

Against the paleness of her skin and hair, her wide violet eyes stood out in stark contrast. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Her admission shouldn’t have felt like a kick to the chest, but it did. Maybe it was him who was the idiot after all. Gerard pointed at her. “Don’t make any trouble.”

“I promise I won’t try to escape again.”

It wasn’t quite the same thing as promising not to make trouble, but he chose to let it go. There were some battles he couldn’t win, and if his instincts were correct, this was one of them. Gerard slid sideways to the door. “I’ll have one of the men bring you something to eat soon.” Any of the men but Adam.

“Thank you.” She still hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed.

“Don’t thank me. You’re still going to be purified. Nothing you say or do can change that.”

Something sparked in her eyes—whether it was defiance or acceptance, he couldn’t be sure. “I would expect nothing else from you.”

“Good.” Before he could make a bigger ass of himself—or kiss her again—he turned and walked through the door. After locking it, Gerard leaned against the wall and desperately tried to reclaim his calm. “Purity will protect you. T-Through the darkness of space. Only Ba’al’s light will…” He searched for the next words but they eluded him, replaced by the memory of how good Marianna felt in his arms. Damn her.

He ground his teeth, wishing he could grind away his thoughts as easily. But they were still there, as persistent and nagging as the wound in his side. He sighed and went in search of Fisk.

The corridor stretched out before him, immaculate and shining. There was only one hallway on this deck, leading to a lift that ran from the engine room, all the way up to the hub. Gerard bypassed the lift, heading for the door to the stairs. After his encounter with Marianna, he needed to stretch his legs. The newly mended patches pulled slightly with each step. He ignored them. The gash in his side would be healed within three days or so, but in the meantime the damn patches were going to itch like crazy and drive him nuts.

Just as he expected, he found Fisk in the engine room, pacing. His arms were marked by grease all the way to the elbow, which meant he’d been working on something down here before he heard Gerard’s approach. Fisk looked up, shoulders squared as if he expected a fight. “It’s wrong.”

There was no question as to what he meant. “She’s a Diviner. It’s the law.” Gerard waved a hand when it looked like Fisk was going to argue. “It doesn’t matter now—we’ve gone too far to turn back.”

Fisk clenched his hands. “Fine. But I’m not going to watch it happen.”

“Stop worrying about the future. Right now, what I am telling you to do is bring her food.”

“Me?” He raised his eyebrows. “Since when am I on nursemaid duty?”

Gerard leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “Since Adam can’t be trusted, and the new guy isn’t prepared for something like this. He might give in to temptation.” Just like Gerard almost had. The thought of Blaine pressing even so much as a single finger against her skin made him want to break something.

“And what’s stopping you from doing it, oh fearless leader?”

“The fact that I’m the leader of this squad and you’ll do what I say.” Gerard allowed himself a tight smile. “But you’re my friend, so I’m asking instead of commanding.”

“Well that’s something I don’t get to hear often.” Fisk grabbed a nearby rag and wiped down his arms. “Don’t suppose I can get this in writing?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Fair enough. I’ll take care of the girl.”

“Good.” Gerard pushed off the wall, wincing when his side twinged. “Don’t take too long, though. I want a meeting within the hour.”

“Then I’ll get going.” Fisk tossed the rag aside and strode from the room, moving toward the lifts. Gerard watched him go, wondering if this was all a grave mistake. Maybe he really should have let Marianna go before they ever made it to the ship.

…

Marianna wasn’t sure what to expect when Fisk came into her room a second time, but the delicious smells wafting over from the covered tray he held chased away most of her misgivings. Still, she chose to be prudent and keep the cot between them as the dark man set down the tray.

They stared at each other a long, awkward moment before she cleared her throat. “Ah, thank you.”

One corner of his mouth tweaked up. “There’s really nothing to thank me for.”

“All the same. Thank you.” She stared at him, trying to place her finger on what it was that lulled her into a sense of false security. Certainly not his bulky fighter’s body. Nor the haphazard haircut that was worn longer than the other members of their squad. No…it was something else.

He glanced over his shoulder as if he expected someone to have come through the door in the last ten seconds. “I brought you something, but it’s best we keep this our little secret.”

“Of course.”

When Fisk pulled her cards from his side pocket, it was everything she could do not to burst into tears and profess her undying devotion. Instead, Marianna smiled and did the next best thing. “Would you like a reading?”

He jumped as if she’d electrocuted him. “What?”

She would have to tread carefully here, but instinct whispered for her to keep pressing. “I’m incredibly grateful to you for bringing my cards. I would like to give you a reading…if you’ll allow it.” While she waited for his answer, she found herself holding her breath. So much rested on this moment, Marianna was sure of it.

After one last look at the door, he turned back to her. For the first time, his expression thawed, a sliver of warmth showing through. “I’ve heard that your kind is never wrong with these readings.”

“Our goddess speaks through the cards. There is some interpretation involved, but no, the cards never lie.”

He gave a nod as if it was the answer he expected. “Then I would greatly appreciate a reading.”

Taking a seat, Marianna patted the cot next to her. “It might be easiest if you sit. Would you like to know the past, present, or future?”

Fisk gave a low laugh. “Does anyone really pick the past or present?”

“It does occur from time to time, but generally people come to me looking for their futures.” She shuffled the cards, each breath taking her deeper into herself—and closer to the Lady. Peace settled around Marianna, soothing away her fear and anxiety. “Please cut the cards, wherever you like.”

Fisk cut them gingerly, as if he expected them to bite. “Gerard isn’t a bad man, you know.”

She went still. Where was he going with this?

“I’ve known him since we were kids in the academy. He’s a true friend, a man of honor.”

Setting the cards in front of her, Marianna met his gaze. “How did the two of you meet?”

“I’ve always been on the small side—especially when I was a boy—and my knack for not knowing when to shut up hasn’t changed either. It got me in over my head, and he showed up in the nick of time.” He sighed. “That idiot took on five boys who were all twice his size.”

She found herself leaning forward, drawn into the story. “Did he save you?”

“Ba’al, no. He got his ass kicked right alongside me.” Fisk shifted, lowering his voice until she had to lean forward to catch his words. “But he’s saved my life half a dozen times since then. You have to understand that, while I don’t agree with this, I owe him my life.”

“I understand.” And she did. Fisk owed Gerard in the same way she owed Darla. If the redhead needed her, Marianna would move every one of the heavens and hells to help her. How was his supporting Gerard any different? It was something to remember.

Marianna motioned to the cards. “Shall we?”

“Yes, of course. I apologize for rambling.”

She flipped over three cards, face up. Marianna took them in with a glance, then did a double take. No, no, no. This couldn’t be right. But there was no mistaking their meaning. In a desperate attempt to give lie to the reading, she turned the deck upside down to check the influencing card. Death. Dread spiraled up her spine, radiating outward. “Lady save you.”

“What?”

She grabbed his wrist, realizing her mistake too late when he jerked away. Marianna made an effort to compose herself as Fisk stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his pants. “Please. Don’t go before I give you the reading.” She hurried on before he could change his mind. “There’s a jealous woman in your life, someone ruled by her emotions and extremely high-strung. You will have a terrible fight, perhaps over an infidelity, perhaps because of a perceived infidelity.”

Lady, she was losing him. Marianna could see it in the way Fisk shook his head, his expression icing over. “Listen. Please. She’s going to try to hurt you—maybe even kill you—through nefarious means.”

“Isn’t all murder nefarious?” His joke fell flat, hanging between them.

Marianna sat back, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “I know you don’t believe me, but please be careful. She’s going to try to kill you.”

“Leandra would never—No. I’m not discussing this with you. Thank you for the entertainment, but I will be going now.”

“It is always a pleasure doing the Lady’s work.” Marianna waited until he left before she touched each of the cards in turn. Queen of Cups, Ill-Dignified. The Tower, Ill-Dignified. Five of Swords, Ill-Dignified.

All under the influence of Death.

The reading made her want to step into a sans shower to wash away the dread clinging to her soul. She placed her hand on the deck and closed her eyes, sending up a prayer to her goddess. “He might be a member of Sanctify, but he’s not an evil man. Please, please, help him to heed the reading.”

For once, her Lady’s peace was nowhere to be found.

Chapter Seven

Every minute spent locked in the room dragged by even slower than the one before. When Marianna attempted to meditate, she couldn’t sit still long enough to focus. She forced herself to remain on the cot, shuffling her cards, but thoughts and worries kept intruding. So she stopped trying to achieve calm and started pacing.

It was exactly ten paces from wall to wall, seventeen if she made a circuit around the bed. The sans shower held only the bare necessities—obviously a ship stocked by men—and the only food she had access to was what they brought her. To someone’s credit—she suspected Gerard was the one making the decisions—meals appeared like clockwork, each a basic fare that could be found in most InstaChefs. If only her stomach would settle enough to eat.

Late in the second day, Gerard came for her. He gave her a cursory look before standing to the side of the open door. “We’re warping now.”

Questions bubbled up behind her lips, but only one wriggled free. “Why has it taken so long to reach the warp point?” She’d never had the resources or desire to fly before, but from what she’d overheard while picking pockets in the market, it was barely two days to the warp point everyone used out of Keiluna. While her timing might be somewhat off, she’d definitely been in this room more than two days.

“It’s taken as long as it needed to.”

That was no answer at all, but she was unlikely to get a better one. “As you say.” Marianna jumped when he wrapped a hand around her upper arm, half guiding, half towing her down the corridor to the lift. They passed several doors that probably housed crew rooms, but there was no way to tell for sure.

She was fine until the lift doors shut, closing them in. A band of fear wrapped around her chest, constricting until spots danced behind her eyes. Marianna swayed, trying to temper her building panic. But the events of the last few days had worn down her hard-won control. A sob built in her throat, her skin feeling as if it were two sizes too small. Too close. It was too close in here. Impossible to believe there was enough air. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Time slowed, each heartbeat so loud in her ears that it drowned out everything else. Marianna tried to take a step away from Gerard, to achieve some space, but her knees gave out.

She never hit the floor.

He caught her around the waist, arms tightening to an almost painful level. Being closed in further should have increased her panic, but instead it beat back the waves of fear crashing over her. She closed her eyes, a single tear breaking free and sliding down her cheek.

“Don’t cry.”

The brusque command gave her the strength to open her eyes and face the tiny lift. It must have stopped moving while she was in the midst of her meltdown because the doors were standing open. “I’m not.”

He released her, taking his warmth with him. Marianna chose not to examine that the very man who signed her death warrant was the same one who comforted her when she was at her weakest. Without looking back, she stumbled into the hallway, arms wrapped around herself. The feeling of spinning out of control continued even though she was no longer in the lift, panic and fear and anger twisting around inside her, more terrifying than the worst of Keiluna’s winter storms. Her shoulder hit the wall before Marianna was aware she was weaving. She clutched herself tighter, trying to hold in the sound demanding to be voiced, but it was no use.

Instead of the shriek she envisioned, it came out as a low keen. She slid to the floor, her hands against her face as if that would stop the tears. The sound kept coming, on and on, until she was convinced it would be the last sound she was capable of making.

This time, when Gerard touched her, she was having none of it. She would not find comfort, not from him. She scooted away, shaking her head.

“Marianna…please.”

He reached for her again, but she shoved his hands away. The only warning she got was a hard look before he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her through the nearest door. It turned out to be a med bay, as she discovered when he dropped her on the nearest cot. The force of impact shocked her enough to stop that terrible noise coming out of her throat.

Gerard ran his hands through his hair, his jaw clenching. “The tears—you need to stop. I can’t handle it.” He opened a cabinet to grab a washcloth. After wetting it in a small sans sink, he walked back to her and, almost timidly, reached out to wipe her cheeks.

The absurdity of his comment gave her the pause she needed to fight for control. Marianna held her breath and closed her eyes, the strength leeching from her body as his thumbs traced over her cheeks. The man was so full of contradictions—one moment harsh and unforgiving, the next he was touching her as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. She finally opened her eyes and leaned back, unable to bear it any longer. “Please stop.”

He dropped his hand but didn’t move back. “I truly am sorry.”

“It doesn’t really change anything, does it? You can be sorry as much as you like, but I am still going to die horrifically.” Unless she could convince him to set her free. Marianna tilted her head up, watching him watch her mouth.

She licked her lips as he leaned forward, intent clear in his expression. This time Gerard made the first move, his mouth crashing into hers. The barely restrained violence of his lips and tongue—and, yes, teeth—made her writhe against him, forgetting that she was supposed to be seducing him. Marianna gripped the front of his shirt, giving in when he pushed her onto her back and climbed on top of her.

Gerard settled into the cradle of her hips, moaning against her mouth when she wrapped her legs around him. His hands felt so big when he ran them over her body, stripping off her shirt in a smooth motion. Desire hardened her nipples as Gerard pushed up to look at her bare breasts, the move rubbing his length against her core. All worries and fears disappeared beneath the need to have him inside her. Marianna fumbled with his pants, finally giving up and ripping at his shirt instead. He gave a breathless curse and pulled it off, collapsing back on top of her and reclaiming her mouth.

Having his bare skin against her own was almost too good to bear. She needed more. So much more.

They both froze when the door slid open. Gerard gave a growl worthy of any Beshmaiite and snatched his shirt, using it to cover her nakedness. She couldn’t move, pinned beneath his body, but Marianna got a good view of Fisk’s shocked face before Gerard shouted, “Out!”

One look at Gerard’s closed-off expression was all she needed. There would be no more chances for seduction in the future. Ladydamnit.

Chapter Eight

“You know, I thought you had it under control. Obviously, you don’t.”

Gerard didn’t need to follow the direction of Fisk’s chin jerk to know what he’d seen. Marianna. Strapped in and ready for the ship to jump. Terrified. Oh, she didn’t show it—hadn’t shown anything since he tossed over her shirt and walked away—but he could see fear in the stiff line of her shoulders and the way she clutched her stomach as if holding something physical in.

“Leoni.”

“I have it under control.”

“No, you don’t.” Fisk grabbed his shoulder, preventing him from moving away. “Gerard, you have to stop. It’s going to be bad enough, even without the extra complications, but you’re making it worse.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re being a Ba’al-damned idiot.” Fisk dropped his hand when Adam and Blaine walked into the hub. The redhead glanced at Marianna and blushed, moving to the chair farthest from her. Adam looked at her, too, but his gaze lingered in a predatory way.

“My, my, my, what a pretty little thing you are.” Adam leaned down and brushed a strand of hair from her face, speaking in a low voice. “The boss has been keeping you from me, but soon enough we’ll have an opportunity to be alone. Promise.”

Gerard didn’t realize he’d moved until Fisk stopped him with a hand to the chest. “Get strapped in, Adam,” the other man said. “We’re almost to the warp point.”

Adam looked from Fisk to Gerard, his cool blue eyes seeing too much. “I’m aware of that.”

“Then stop yapping and sit down.” Gerard didn’t move, forcing Adam to skirt around him to get into the cockpit. Fisk shook his head and followed Adam, leaving Gerard to take care of himself. The knot in his shoulders didn’t loosen until the door slid shut between them.

When he dropped into the seat next to Marianna, he could feel the tension pulsing off her in waves. Every instinct Gerard possessed demanded he reach out—comfort her, hold her, protect her. It was only through sheer willpower—and Blaine’s presence beside him—that he strapped himself in and leaned his head back without looking over.

They hit the warp point with no warning from Adam—typical—and the ship shuddered, all the bits and pieces rattling. If he hadn’t heard it a thousand times before, he’d be concerned the damned thing was going to fly apart under the pressure.

Marianna made a small sound, a combination of a choked scream and a gasp, her hands grasping for the harness. It was too much. Gerard grabbed the one hand he could reach and pressed it against her lap. “All will be well.”

“Please. Stop. Touching. Me.”

“I will when we’re through.” He massaged her fingers, ignoring the tension there, and trying not to be bothered by it. The ship gave one final squeal and then they were back into straight space.

She freed her hands and rubbed at her arms. “So cold.”

“What?” Gerard unhooked himself and turned to face her. All color was leeched from Marianna’s skin, her breath coming in little pants as she attempted to curl in upon herself. It didn’t work—the harness kept her from succeeding. He got her out of it as quickly as possible, which wasn’t easy to do with the shivers racking her body.

“Come here.” He lifted her, ignoring Blaine’s wide-eyed look, and strode from the hub. Remembering Marianna’s reaction to the lift, he took the stairs. By the time he hit the second deck, her shivers had lost their violence. Gerard stopped in front of her door, torn between the desire to let go and walk away, and the desire to go into her cabin and ensure she was okay.

Except she wasn’t okay.

Marianna pressed a hand against his chest. “You can put me down now, Gerard.”

He didn’t want to, but he obeyed, then watched as she walked into her cabin without looking back.

…

Marianna sat cross-legged on her cot, shuffling her cards. She had managed to hold off doing a reading up until now for fear of what it might say, but it was time. The Lady had pushed her into this situation for a reason. She had to believe the end result wouldn’t be another pointless Diviner death at the altar of Sanctify’s bloodthirsty god.

Trying to ignore the way her hands shook, she dealt out a full reading in a V formation. It wasn’t a spread she normally did, but it felt right for the situation.

She ignored the temptation to flip them all at once, instead starting with the card representing the past. “The Star.” Well, that was no surprise—if Darla hadn’t found her, saved her from those men, her life would have turned out a lot differently. The older girl had taken her in, taught her how to survive, offered her hope. Marianna returned the favor as often as she could, helping others whenever she had the capabilities to do so, but she was only one person, and some of them fell through the cracks. It wasn’t something she liked to think about.

Moving on to the present, she was similarly unsurprised. The Hanged Man. Since she was in a situation where she couldn’t move forward and was forced to simply react to others’ actions, it made sense. The future seemed almost to contradict it, though. Seven of Wands. Continue soldiering on and fighting.

Frustrated, she flipped the remaining cards, taking in the reading as a whole. The presence of The Lovers seemed to indicate that she was on the correct track with her attempts to seduce Gerard. Good. And not solely because she longed for another opportunity to kiss him again. The man might be gruff and nearly unbearable, but he made her head spin and her blood heat.

The Emperor was an outside influence. She stroked the bearded face on the card. Gerard. It all kept coming back to him. He was her way out. The Nine of Wands made her think that perhaps her efforts weren’t in vain. And then the final outcome—Justice.

Panic fluttered inside her throat, but she beat it back. There was hope of justice being served, but it was not without a price. She would not go to her death quietly—was grateful the Lady didn’t ask such an impossible task of her. As she gathered up the cards, one fell out, landing face up.

The High Priestess.

She picked it up and tapped it against her knee, staring at the picture on the card. Trust her intuition. So be it. Marianna slipped her cards back into their bag, mind still preoccupied with searching out the different meanings of the Lady’s message. There was a way out. There had to be.

Chapter Nine

“It’s time.”

Marianna tried to compose her face, refusing to let any disappointment or fear show. With Gerard, she might have allowed a sliver of emotion through her shield, but Fisk was another story altogether. Ever since she’d read his cards, he acted as if she didn’t exist. The redheaded boy—Blaine—did the same thing, but it hurt more coming from a man who had shown Marianna kindness.

She stood and smoothed her hand over her wrinkled clothes, wishing for the opportunity to change them. It would make no difference, though—her path was already laid before her and different clothes would only be an imaginary shield between her and her captors. Better to do away with such indulgences now. She was not safe—had never been less safe in her life, even when homeless and surviving as a pickpocket.

“I’m ready.” A lie, but one he allowed her. Fisk stepped back and motioned Marianna through the door. Then he led the way to the stairs. They descended in silence but for the echoing of their footsteps. The engine room was the same as last time she’d been through, the huge machine taking up most of the area, leaving only a narrow space to walk.

She wrapped her arms around herself as they approached the ramp leading out of the ship. Beyond the doorway, it was daytime, the light so bright it hurt her eyes even from this distance. Marianna wouldn’t allow herself to balk, though, and kept walking, head held high. Taking that last step into the outside world was one of the hardest of her life, but she pushed forward, refusing to let them see her fear.

They had set down in a shipyard, surrounded by other white warships. The entire area was paved, but on the outskirts of the lot, nature had already begun to fight back, weeds springing up between the cracks in the ground, the trees creating a wall of sorts, their roots opening the cracks even farther. A sweet wind kicked up to tease her hair from her face. Marianna closed her eyes and pretended it smelled of Keiluna, instead of this planet that had once been her people’s homeland. But Sanctify had poisoned that in much the same way they poisoned everything they touched. Those monsters killed every man, woman, and child they could get their hands on and drove the rest of the Diviners to the far corners of the universe.

A hand in the middle of her back shoved her forward, sending her tumbling. She landed on her knees, cuffed hands barely coming up in time to keep her from skinning her face. She turned her head sideways in time to see a boot raised to kick.

Something snapped deep in her soul. Marianna gave a hiss to do any reptile proud and lunged, hitting her attacker around the waist. He cursed as they went over the side of the ramp and fell a full meter before hitting the ground. She reared up, catching sight of Adam’s murderous look, brought her cuffed hands over her head, and slammed them down on that snarling mouth.

No more. She would submit no longer. Marianna managed two more hits before he flipped them and lifted his fist.

Then Gerard was there, tackling the blond man before his fist could make contact. Marianna scrambled to her feet, ready to assist, but Blaine and Fisk grabbed her upper arms, trapping her between them.

Helpless, she was forced to watch Gerard and Adam roll around on the ground as they exchanged blows. Blood flew with each impact. The sheer violence of it drained away her own desire to inflict as much pain as possible on her captors. What had she been thinking to attack? It made her no better than the monsters who wanted her dead. Marianna bit her lip and struggled against the ridiculous urge to cry. Tears would solve her problems no more than violence had.

Truth be told, there was only one way out of this mess and he was now striding toward her, blood oozing from a cut above his right eye and another on his lip. She wanted to wipe it away, but the scathing look he sent her killed that foolish notion. Gerard nodded at Fisk. “Get her situated in one of the cells—unharmed. I will make my report to the High Priest and meet you afterward.”

“Yes, sir.”

He and Blaine turned her around and marched toward the low white building on the other side of the shipyard. It was nondescript, its edges rounded as if it stood here so long, the wind and rain had beaten even that much originality from it. But that was merely a fanciful thought—a few hundred years wasn’t long enough to see that kind of elemental change.

Two white-robed guards stood near the entrance. Both perked up when they saw Fisk, seconds before their attention zeroed in on her.

“Ba’al be damned, Fisk, tell me that’s not a Diviner?” The speaker was tall and lanky, not yet old enough to move past the awkward stage of adolescence. Beneath his black skin, his Adam’s apple bobbed madly.

“Mind your own business, Drew.”

Instead of obeying, Drew moved toward them. On closer inspection, she noticed his skin actually had blue highlights. He was really quite pretty—if she ignored the zealous gleam in his eyes. He ducked down, face centimeters from Marianna’s. “Never seen one of them in real life before. Is it true they actually believe they can tell the future?”

“We can.”

She realized her mistake when his lips thinned. “No, you can’t, you little bitch. Only Ba’al’s High Priest has that ability. It was given to him—and only him—as a demonstration of Ba’al’s love for us.”

Marianna blinked, temporarily sidetracked. “Is that really what you believe?” Why in the Lady’s name would a god restrict the future to only one person in the entire universe? It was the ultimate act of selfishness.

“It’s the truth.”

“Step back, Drew. Now.”

For a moment, she didn’t think he’d obey, but then he moved away, his gaze never leaving her eyes. She would do well to remember that most of these men weren’t like her reluctant captor—they truly wanted her dead.

Fisk and Blaine guided her past the desks and down a long hallway devoid of any decoration. The unrelenting white raised the small hairs on the back of her neck, and the feeling only got worse as they descended a narrow set of stairs. Twenty-seven steps later, they reached a landing and turned left, the hall finally ending in a row of cells. Or that’s what she assumed they were, judging from the unblinking red lights on each of the palm locks.

The last one on the right was her destination. Fisk nodded at Blaine and the redhead left them alone. He looked her up and down and sighed. “I’ll have some clothes brought down for you—you can’t wear that when the High Priest sees you.”

“I’m to meet the High Priest?”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, the move carrying a world of tension. “Maybe not. It could be that he’ll wait to see you until the day of the purification.”

The world started to sway, but she dug her nails into her palm until it righted itself. “I see.”

“Everything else aside, I truly am sorry it has to be this way.”

Unable to look upon his guilt, she turned away. “I know.” But sorry wasn’t going to help her. “Will I see Gerard again before the…purification?”

“He’s free to come and go as he pleases.”

“I see.” She could only hope and pray that he would come to talk to her sometime before then. As it was, her chances weren’t looking good.

Fisk’s footsteps started for the door. “Good-bye, Marianna.”

“Good-bye, Fisk.” She waited until the door slid shut behind him to whisper, “Lady bless you and keep you.”

Chapter Ten

Gerard knelt before the High Priest, fists clenching rhythmically at his sides as he tried to recite Ba’al’s Benediction in his head. The words and the calm they usually brought escaped him. He couldn’t get past the first cursed line. Purity will protect you…

“A Diviner, you say? Are you completely sure, boy?”

Gerard kept his head bowed as the old man walked a slow circle around him. He hadn’t been a boy for ages, but damned if the High Priest would acknowledge it. “Yes, sir. She’s definitely a Diviner. All the indicators are there—including the fact she carries a deck of their cards everywhere.”

“Fascinating. I haven’t seen one of their ilk in… It’s been five years?”

“Ten years, sir.”

“Don’t correct me, boy. I know more than you ever will.”

Heat built beneath Gerard’s skin, and he was sure his face had turned a mottled red. He gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

“I believe we shall make an event of her purification. The autumn festival is in seven days. That shall be enough time to create quite the spectacle. Don’t you agree?”

Seven days wasn’t nearly long enough. Gerard bit back his knee-jerk response. Protesting wouldn’t do anything at this point. Hells, it never did anything when it came to the High Priest. Gerard need only to think of his blood coating the stones outside the barracks while the High Priest droned on about the importance of expansion to be reminded of the fact. He refused to take that road again. The High Priest wasn’t one to give second chances and next time it was sure to be significantly bloodier.

If only there was another way…

He shut down the line of thinking before it could go any further. “As you say.”

“That’s right, boy, as I say. Do not think I overlooked your previous disobedience. You disappointed me greatly.” He gave a heavy sigh. “Rise.”

Gerard carefully schooled his face before rising. The High Priest was well past his prime, shoulders beginning to stoop, his graying hair receding another centimeter or two a year. The lines that had once seemed to indicate a life lived with strength now were deeper and screamed weakness. Still, it was unlikely he’d die anytime soon. “High Priest.”

“Go. Rest. We shall speak again before the purification ceremony.”

Gerard turned and left the room before the man could change his mind. Darkness had fallen while he was kept waiting, cooling his heels while the High Priest did whatever it was he did when not meeting with his lieutenants. Gerard didn’t stop until he passed the twin buildings where the dorms were located, rage rising with each step he took. He’d hand-delivered a damned Diviner to the High Priest and all he got was another reminder of his past punishment. He should have realized his disobedience wouldn’t be so easily forgotten—no sin was ever forgotten in this place. If this encounter were any indication, it would be years before he could earn the trust of the High Priest again.

Which meant he’d sentenced Marianna to death for nothing.

Gerard doused the thought and its accompanying guilt. There was only one person he wanted to see right now, and he’d find him in the only pub the High Priest allowed to conduct business near the barracks.

Sure enough, Fisk was sitting in his customary seat, alone at a corner table the lights didn’t quite reach. Gerard dropped into the empty chair across from him and ran his hands through his hair. “I talked to him.”

“And?” Fisk’s voice was completely devoid of emotion, which meant he was trying like crazy to keep something hidden.

“The…purification…is set for the autumn equinox.”

“Seven days.” Fisk drained his glass and set it on the table with a thump. He motioned the bartender without even looking. “A week.”

“Generally there are seven days in a week.” Gerard eyed the glass set in front of him. Three fingers of the best alcohol brewed on Keiluna. Ba’al be damned, did everything come back to Marianna? She was like a curse he couldn’t shake, burrowing under his skin and wrapping around his mind until it was difficult to think of anything else.

“It’s not all that long.” Fisk lifted his drink and considered it, the amber liquid sloshing this way and that. “Are you prepared to watch Marianna tortured and burned to death?”

Gerard cast a quick look around, but the nearest patron was three tables away, well out of hearing range. “Purified.”

“Pretty it up all you want, but that doesn’t change the reality of the situation. She will be cut apart, joint by joint, each wound cauterized so she won’t bleed out.” Fisk leaned forward, lowering his voice until Gerard had to strain to hear, even though hearing was the last thing he wanted. “She will try to be strong at first and, knowing Marianna, she will last longer than the others. But then something in her will break, and she will beg and plead and, eventually, all she will do is scream.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“You can’t even talk about it and you expect to be able to watch it?” Fisk shook his head, staring off toward the door.

No, he didn’t expect to be able to watch it and be unaffected. Even thinking about Marianna being hurt made a pit open up in his stomach, a dark place that he wasn’t sure he could come back from. Gerard downed his drink in one shot, the liquid burning its way to his stomach. Sitting with Fisk hadn’t settled him the way he’d hoped it would. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

“If you can stomach it. I don’t know that I can.”

Gerard stood and wove his way through the tables, nodding at the men who met his gaze. There weren’t many who would after watching Gerard whipped until he couldn’t so much as stand on his own. Some refused to be seen as aligning themselves with him for fear that he would fall completely out of favor and bring them down as well. Others had lost all respect for him after seeing the public humiliation.

The night pressed against Gerard as he strode down the walkway, trying to outrun the demons chasing at his heels. It didn’t work, but then, he hadn’t expected it to. He never should have brought Marianna here. Hells, Gerard couldn’t even bear to think about what was to come, let alone what his life would be like afterward.

His life. Something he hadn’t spent much time contemplating as he grew older. Now, though, it stretched before him, blacker than the deepest abyss.

A figure detached itself from the nearest building and sauntered toward him. Gerard looked at the sky, wondering why Ba’al had chosen today of all days to make the world fall apart around him.

Lizbeth was exotically beautiful, her hair long and thick and blending in with the shadows around her. Men followed her everywhere, practically begging for any attention she’d give them. Once upon a time, she’d given her smiles to Gerard. Now her slanted eyes held nothing but disdain. “You’ve been gone longer than expected.”

“I’ve been gone exactly as long as expected.” Gerard wanted nothing more than to turn away and leave her standing there, but honor held him fast. This woman was the mother of his son—he owed it to her to at least attempt respect. “How have you been? How is Oberon?”

She cocked her hip, giving him a good view of the curves that had once caught his eye. Her dark gray shift couldn’t conceal the fact she had nothing on underneath. “Come home. I’ve missed you.”

It was a lie. Lizbeth only wanted the perks that came along with his position. Before, Gerard had been content to take what she offered. No longer. Not since he learned what cruelty hid behind the beautiful mask. It was years ago now, but he still remembered the disgust on her face when he had the audacity to want to lean on her after a particularly tough mission. It wasn’t a mistake he’d make again. “I’m tired, Lizbeth. I’ll come by tomorrow and see Oberon.”

“You’re so Ba’al-damned transparent.” She looked him up and down before flicking her hair over her shoulder. “You got what you wanted—a son. What is left for me?”

“You have everything. Do you think I like only seeing my son on the rare occasions I’m allowed home? I want to be here.”

“With him.” Lizbeth slashed a hand through the air. “You care nothing for me.”

Gerard looked around, grateful there was no one else out tonight. “You knew what I offered when we first met. I can’t be a husband to you—to anyone.”

“Liar. How could I not feel something for you when you held me just so, treated me so well?”

The worst part was that she actually had a point. For months after Lizbeth told him she was pregnant, he tried. Ba’al, how he tried. Gerard had grown up without parents, with only his comrades and teachers as his companions. Maybe if he could give his child a life with two loving parents, his son could circumvent the fate that had sucked Gerard in.

But Lizbeth had only seen him as a one-way ticket to a higher class of people. She didn’t care about making a partnership with him—or the child growing in her womb. And so their relationship didn’t last past Oberon’s birth.

Looking at her now, Gerard might have actually felt bad if there were tears glittering in those black eyes. Instead, there was only hate. “I’m sorry, Lizbeth. I never meant it to turn out this way.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t. Men never do once the child has come.”

“That’s not fair.”

“I’m done, Gerard. Come by and see your son if you wish. This is the last time I try to make you love me.” She turned and sauntered into the night, hips swinging as if she wanted him to know just what he would be missing in the future.

Funny. With all her curves and exotic good looks, Lizbeth didn’t hold a candle to Marianna.

Chapter Eleven

Oberon was growing like a weed. Gerard tossed him into the air, the boy’s giggles bringing a smile to his face. He was the only good thing that had come from the mess with Lizbeth.

Gerard let himself fall back onto the grass and roll down the small hill, keeping the boy sheltered in the bracket of his arms. They tumbled to a laughing mess at the bottom, Oberon sitting on his chest and raising his tiny fists to the cloudy sky.

Stretching, Gerard toppled him sideways. “I love you, boy.”

Oberon sat up, babbling in a string of syllables that meant absolutely nothing to him. He reached forward and grabbed a handful of Gerard’s hair, tugging on it. Whatever he was saying, it was of the utmost seriousness. Gerard grinned, meeting those large black eyes—his mother’s eyes, but without all the complicated emotions. Just joy at spending time with his father.

A drop of rain splattered against his forehead, quickly followed by another. Soon it was pouring, soaking their clothing. Gerard stood, scooping up Oberon on the way, and hurried across the open ground. The village was a quick hover ride away, but he didn’t want to take his son back yet. Their time together was already limited enough without him shortening it.

So he headed to his dorm room. The building was like a honeycomb, riddled with rooms and hallways that interconnected in ways only someone who walked it regularly would understand. Tossing Oberon on the bed made the boy break out in giggles again.

He barely had a chance to change and sit when his door burst open. Fisk staggered in, his skin an unhealthy gray color. “She was right. Ba’al-damnit, she was right.”

Gerard moved Oberon out of the way before the other man could crush him and sat back, the boy settled in his lap. “Take a deep breath.” He waited while Fisk followed the command.

“She was right. The Diviner.”

“Marianna?” The black pit inside him got a bit wider. “Tell me what’s going on. Slowly.”

“She did a reading.” Fisk held up a hand before Gerard could speak. “I know. I should never have let her do it—but I’m glad I did. She tried to poison me.”

Gerard’s emotional spiral skidded to a sudden stop. “What? Marianna tried to poison you? How in the hells did she manage—?”

“No, no. That’s not what I meant. Leandra tried to poison me. She just… I thought she loved me. Things were so good with us.” Fisk pushed to his feet and stalked from one wall to the other. “They were great. But when we were getting ready for bed, she goes crazy, starts accusing me of screwing around on her. Hells, she even named names. Where the fuck do women get this shit?”

Gerard hugged Oberon to his chest, thinking of Lizbeth. “I have no idea.”

“Then, this morning, she’s as sweet as pie, smiling and telling me she loves me.” Fisk laughed, the sound full of despair. “She even made breakfast—my favorite.”

That didn’t sound like Leandra at all. From what Gerard had seen, she was a milder version of Lizbeth—only after the security and financial stability of Fisk’s position within Sanctify. “But…she poisoned you?”

“She tried. Would have succeeded if not for Marianna.”

“I don’t understand—what does Marianna have to do with this?”

“The reading, man.” Fisk spun on his heel, throwing up his hands and startling Oberon.

The boy burst into tears, wailing at the top of his lungs. Gerard stood, rocking him until he calmed, screams quieting to pathetic little whimpers. Oberon wrapped tiny arms around his neck and said, “Dada.”

Gerard blinked. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

“Sounded like he called you Dada. Can we get back to me?”

Gerard didn’t want to. All he wanted was to cuddle his boy close and listen to Oberon call him Dada again and again. But life intruded, just as it always did. “Sorry. Yes. You were saying?”

“Marianna gave me a reading. She told me that things would go south with me and the woman I was with. That this woman would try to kill me, through devious means.”

Gerard shook his head, finally tearing his gaze from Oberon. “Wait—Marianna told you this? When?”

“Back on the ship.” Fisk spun again, catching himself when he started to yell. He continued in a quieter tone. “There’s no way she could have known then. Hells, there’s no way she could know now. So how did she?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re wrong?” The alternative was mind-blowing. Instinctively, he reached for Ba’al’s Benediction, trying to draw it around him as he’d been taught from childhood. Purity will… The words went up in smoke, disappearing from his memory as if they hadn’t been drilled there ever since he could remember. He gave up trying, turning instead to the logical conclusion of what Fisk was saying.

If the Diviners actually could tell the future… Gerard shook his head, rubbing Oberon’s back. He didn’t want to finish the thought, but he had to. If the Diviners actually could tell the future, then one of the very foundations of his faith was false. If they could actually tell the future, they weren’t blasphemers. If they weren’t blasphemers, then they were being killed for nothing.

Marianna would be killed for nothing.

And if one of the foundations of Sanctify was false, who was to say the rest were true? Gerard had killed countless aliens over the years and never thought twice about it—they were vile creatures, blemishes removed in order to contribute to the greater honor of Ba’al.

But…what if they really were innocents?

The implication nearly sent him to his knees. “You have to be wrong.”

“I’m not wrong. I tasted the blood leaf before I spat it out. There’s nothing else that has that same bitter flavor. Leandra tried to kill me, and Marianna saved me.” Fisk froze, eyes widening. “I need to see her. To thank her. I have to go now.”

“Wait—Fisk!” But it was too late. Fisk was gone.

Gerard stared at the open door for a long moment, and then looked down at his son, wondering how his entire world could collapse in the course of a week—all at the hands of a single woman.

…

Marianna was ready for him. As soon as Fisk appeared, all apologies and terrified thanks, she’d known Gerard would come for her. He wouldn’t be able to stay away, not with his best friend acting the way Fisk was.

Still, when the door slid open to reveal him, her breath caught in her throat, and it was everything she could do not to throw herself into his arms and beg him to save her. But that wouldn’t do. Instead, she dredged up a smile. “Good afternoon, Gerard.”

His glower was so fierce she could almost see the emotional darkness plaguing him. “I don’t see a damn thing good about it. You’ve ruined everything.”

Well, that wasn’t the best way to begin this conversation. It certainly didn’t bode well for things to come. Marianna laced her hands behind her back, hoping he wouldn’t know it was to hide their shaking. “What have I ruined?”

“Everything.” He took up more space than was fair, seeming to draw in the very air in the room until she felt lightheaded. “Your reading saved Fisk.”

“I know.” And she’d thanked the Lady every hour since he left because of it. Sanctify or not, he was a good man and didn’t deserve to die. Not like that; not at the hands of a vengeful woman.

“You obviously don’t know what that means.” There he went, running his hands through his hair again. “It changes everything. I have never questioned the way things are. Never. It’s how I was raised—it was the truth I lived by. And now I can’t stop questioning. This all started with you—if you can tell the future, then the teachings of the High Priest aren’t completely accurate. If they aren’t completely accurate…” He turned to her, and the torment on his face was a terrible thing to behold. “Do you know how many aliens I’ve killed, Marianna? Because I don’t. I never even bothered to count. What if they’ve died for nothing?”

She wanted to take Gerard in her arms and comfort him—it was a tragedy to have one’s beliefs rocked so thoroughly, even if he had been one of the monsters. Instead, she kept her voice light and soothing, instinctively knowing that he wouldn’t take any comfort she offered. “There is nothing I can say to make you feel better about this. We can’t change the past. We shouldn’t even try. But the one thing that we can change is the future—only you have the ability to do that.”

“What is that—more Diviner mumbo jumbo?”

“No.” She gave a soft laugh. Far from it. She’d learned that from Darla, though the girl had put it a lot differently. “It’s the truth. One that’s very hard to stomach.”

“I see.” He moved closer, still staying just out of reach. “And if I asked you to tell my future…would you?”

Something told her that to know his future was to know her own—they were tied together. But what if she was wrong? Her chest constricted at the thought. “I would have to, or else risk falling violently out of favor with the Lady. But, please, don’t ask me. I can’t bear to know.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t have any desire to know, either. Today is enough trouble without borrowing from tomorrow.” Gerard sighed. “I have to go now, but I’ll be back and we’ll talk more.” He left before she could decide if he meant the words as a threat or a promise.

Chapter Twelve

Gerard thought of nothing but Marianna for three days. Of the truth she represented. There was no other way to look at things. He’d been lied to from childhood, had been conditioned into being the perfect killing machine. The High Priest had pointed at a target, spouted Ba’al’s Benediction, and Gerard had never once questioned it.

He really was one of the monsters.

But no longer. Marianna was right—he couldn’t change the past, but he could start on a new future. But first he had to get her out of that cell. After that…well, he’d worry about that when the time came. But he’d take her and he’d take his boy, and they’d fly until the whole universe separated them from Sanctify.

He tried to spend time with Oberon, but the boy seemed to sense his inattention and became a squalling, shrieking mess when out of sight of his mother. Any other time it wouldn’t have mattered, but Gerard was in no frame of mind to deal with a fussy toddler.

Finally, it was too much. He couldn’t stay away from her any longer.

Drew was on duty, the boy lounging against the front desk. He snapped to attention when Gerard came through the door, trying to pretend he wasn’t slacking off. “Sir.”

“Relax. I’m not here for an inspection.” The best way to avoid suspicion was to keep everyone else on the defensive, so he made a show of looking around. There were scuff marks on the floor and a fine layer of pollen covered everything, brought in from the trees surrounding the town. “If I was, you’d be in some serious trouble. This place is disgusting.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get right on it, sir.”

“Do that.” While the kid was still sputtering out excuses, Gerard walked past him and headed down the stairs. Drew might be the darling of his superior officers, but he wouldn’t go far enough to be a lieutenant. He was too lazy and he lacked the drive that made men shoot up through the ranks of Sanctify. A drive Gerard had once possessed. No longer, though. Not for Sanctify. Everything was changing, the world blurring and melting around him.

There was another guard sitting at the end of the white hallway where the prisoners were kept. He, at least, was alert, standing at attention with his hand on his laser. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

Damn. He hadn’t put much thought into what people would think of him coming to visit the fabled Diviner. Again. “I need to question the prisoner. High Priest’s orders.”

The guard gave him a slow once-over, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was the truth. In the end, though, he had no choice but to allow Gerard entry. “Do you need assistance?”

“No. I can handle one w—female. Not as if she’s a Bolkerian.”

They shared a laugh as the palm lock flashed green. And then there was nothing keeping him from her. Marianna stood as he entered the room, kicking something under her cot. The cards, no doubt. But he wasn’t interested in them—had no interest in her future-telling abilities, either. If he was going to be honest with himself, the only reason he was here was to see her. She was the one who had started this storm in his life, and when he was with her was the only time he didn’t feel as if he were about to be swept away. Gerard waited until the door shut behind him to speak. “How are you doing?”

She started to cross her arms over her chest, abandoning the motion halfway through. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“No one’s hurt you?” His vision bled red at the thought of anyone laying hands on her. But she was shaking her head. Gerard made an effort to release the tension that wound through every one of his muscles. “Good.”

“Gerard…” She bit her lip. “I, ah…”

“Ask.” As if he could deny her anything within his power right now. The next three days lay before them, a timeline Gerard couldn’t do a damn thing to change. Regret was sour on his tongue, burning from his throat to his stomach.

“Would you mind…holding me…just for a few moments?”

He blinked. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t for her to seek comfort with the very person responsible for her situation. If it weren’t for him, Marianna would still be on Keiluna, doing…whatever it was she did there. Ba’al be damned, it felt like she’d been in his life forever and he still knew next to nothing about her. “Of course.” Gerard sat on the cot and waited for her to approach him.

For a long moment, it seemed as if she’d reconsidered, but then Marianna slid carefully next to him, perching on the edge of the mattress as if she expected to flee at any moment. That wouldn’t do.

“You asked me to hold you.” Without waiting for permission, Gerard scooped her up and settled her in his lap. She was so thin. Too thin. “Have you been eating?”

Marianna laughed. “I haven’t had much of an appetite.”

Of course not. He was an idiot for not taking that into consideration. Well, if he couldn’t change their current reality, he could definitely distract them both for a time. Gerard scooted until his back hit the wall and stretched out his legs. There wasn’t much space on the cot—hells, there wasn’t much space in the room itself—but the only other option was the floor. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “I’ve seen you half naked—there isn’t much that’s inappropriate after that. Did you grow up on Keiluna?”

“You’re not going to allow this to drop, are you?”

The echo of their first conversation hit him like a punch from a Bolkerian. Had it really been just over a week ago? “No. So you might as well submit.”

“As if I haven’t heard that line before.” She started to relax, tracing her finger along his forearm. The innocent touch was distracting as hells. There was no hiding his reaction to it, but she didn’t mention it, and he’d be damned before he willingly let her go. “Yes, I grew up on Keiluna.”

“What was it like?” All he’d ever known was Sanctify, first the elementary dorms and school, then secondary, then on to officer academy. The only thing that really changed was the level of physical training. Everything else stayed the same, from the monochrome walls that he wasn’t allowed to decorate, to the hard cot, to the harsh lessons.

“It was difficult at times.” When he moved to look at her, she gave a half smile. “My parents died when I was a child, barely ten years old. Since I had no close relatives, I ended up in an orphanage, which wasn’t completely terrible. But I was willful and thought I knew what was best, so I ran away. Through luck and happenstance, I fell in with a group of street children, and we looked out for one another.”

He waited, drinking in the small smile she wore. “You enjoyed it.”

“Yes, some days. I’m quite the pickpocket, though I haven’t had reason to practice in years. But, there were times when food ran scarce or we were hurt by others—”

“Who hurt you?” Again, anger rushed through him, more heady and dangerous than Keiluna’s homegrown brew.

Marianna leaned her head against his chest, the fresh smell of her hair wrapping around him. At least someone—probably Fisk—had ensured she was allowed to use the sans shower. “There was always someone larger or angrier. These things happened. It’s just life.”

“You have a very odd explanation of ‘just life.’ Were you ever…you know?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he shook his head. “Never mind. You don’t have to answer that.” He didn’t know if he could handle it if her answer was anything but negative.

“It’s all right. No, I was never hurt in that way. Just mugged a time or two.”

He had a feeling her count was off by more than a handful, but Gerard made an effort to let it go. As she said, there was no point in nitpicking right now. The past was the past and there was no changing it, no matter how much he wanted to go back and save that willful child. What a ridiculous thought, considering their circumstances. Instead of traveling further down that mental road, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m glad.”

“Yes, well, everything happens for a reason.” Marianna shifted, looking up at him until he was drowning in her violet eyes. “Do you believe in fate, Gerard?”

Unable to help himself, he traced a thumb across her bottom lip. “I don’t know. Some days, maybe. Others, not so much.”

She shivered, opening her mouth for him. It was all the invitation he needed. Gerard leaned down and kissed her, tongue tracing slowly along hers, leisurely, enjoying every second of it. Pulling her closer, he slipped a hand beneath her shift, cupping her hip. Like this, she felt so fragile, almost breakable. Then she arched into him, her nails digging into his arm. “More. Please, Gerard.”

He couldn’t ignore a plea like that, not when he wanted it as much as she did. Gerard slid down, moving her until she straddled his waist. Giving a whimper that made him want to protect her and get her out of her clothes all at once, Marianna sat up just enough to look at him. “I need you naked.”

Gerard could do that.

Chapter Thirteen

They made short work of his clothes and then hers, pausing frequently to kiss and touch. And then there was nothing left between them. Gerard’s hands on her hips were the only thing keeping her from doing exactly what she wanted. He held her pinned even though she was on top, the angle all wrong to finish this. Desire beat through her body, rising higher with each heartbeat until all she could think of was touching him, loving him.

His free hand seemed to be everywhere at once, driving her out of her mind. Drifting over her ribs, light as a feather, down her spine, pausing to cup first one breast and then the other. She returned the favor, stroking his stomach, chest, shoulders. Scars covered his torso. She recognized a few knife wounds and other, harsher ones. Instead of dampening her attraction, they only increased it. This was a true man—a warrior. And, in this moment, he was hers and hers alone.

Finally, it was too much. Marianna dug her nails into his arms. “Gerard, if you don’t finish this—now—I may just die.”

“Trust me.”

Gerard slithered down the cot as he lifted her and settled her on his chest, her knees on either side of his head. Marianna straightened, looking down her body at him. The position was slightly awkward, but she didn’t get a chance to say so before his mouth found her core. She slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek, but she was already too far gone to worry about being overheard. The pain of his fingers digging into her skin perfectly counteracted the pleasure of his tongue, heightening it until she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began. And then it was too much—she shuddered, still trying to smother her cries even as he pushed her over the edge.

Marianna collapsed, barely catching herself on the wall. Aftershocks sparked as Gerard shifted, rolling them until he hovered over her. He smoothed her hair from her face, lips quirked into a smug smile. “Are you okay?”

As soon as she could form a coherent thought, she’d give him an answer. Or perhaps she wouldn’t. Marianna kissed him, tasting herself on his tongue. She drew back long enough to say, “More.” Then her mouth was back on his, teeth raking over his bottom lip.

Gerard found her with his fingers, first one and then two. It was too much. Too much and not enough. Even as she thrashed, she needed him there with her. “I need you.”

“Yes.” His fingers disappeared long enough to be replaced by exactly what she wanted. Gerard pushed his way inside her using slow, shallow strokes. He propped himself up on his forearms, dark eyes seeming to look into her soul. Desperate, Marianna grabbed his hips, trying to force him to move faster, deeper.

He groaned again. “You’re killing me.” Then Gerard slammed into her, withdrawing almost completely before he did it again.

“Yes. Oh, yes, yes.” She couldn’t seem to draw a full breath, her voice coming out in a gasp. Pressure started low in her stomach, building with each stroke. So close, so terribly close to what she needed. Reaching further, she dug her nails into his backside, driving him on. He kissed her as she went under, borne away on a tide of passion beyond anything she’d ever known. He kept going, finishing with a shudder that tore through his entire body before he collapsed on top of her.

Marianna wrapped her legs around Gerard’s waist, trying to get him as close as possible, and ran her fingers through his hair. He responded by slipping an arm under the small of her back and kissing her again. “Gods, woman, how did you manage to turn my entire life on its head just by walking into it?”

“Because she’s a whore and, as the past has shown us, you have a taste for whores.”

There was nowhere to hide. Gerard didn’t move except to turn his head to the door. Marianna followed suit, instantly trying to shrink away from the older man standing there. Every instinct went on red alert, screaming at her to run as fast and as far as she could.

“High Priest. How surprising.” Ice was warmer than Gerard’s tone.

“I shouldn’t think so. You are in one of my cells, after all, seducing my prisoner.” The man turned his attention on her. “You’re quite a fetching young thing, aren’t you?”

“Stay away from her.” Gerard leaned over and grabbed his shirt, using it to cover her when he stood. “I’m to blame for this.”

“Of that I have no doubt.” The High Priest looked at her as if he could see through the flimsy fabric covering her nakedness. “However, the truth remains that she is, in fact, a Diviner. So your self-sacrifice is for nothing.”

Gerard glanced at her, his gaze containing so many things. Things she had no name for. “No. Not for nothing.”

“Guards. Take him. Strip him of his robes—he’s no longer a lieutenant of Sanctify, though whether he’s to be burned as a traitor remains to be seen.” The High Priest waited while they did as he commanded. They marched Gerard from the room without a backward glance. The High Priest, on the other hand, lingered. “You are quite lovely for a creature whose very existence defiles our god.”

Marianna sat up, careful to keep the shirt pressed against her chest. “Somehow, that does not make me feel any better.”

“I imagine not.” His smile held all the emotion of a reptile’s. “Still…it would be a shame to let such a nubile young thing go to waste. Perhaps I can be…persuaded…to extend your life a bit longer.”

Her skin broke out in gooseflesh at the very suggestion and she tasted bile on the back of her tongue. “I think not.”

“As you say.” With a shrug, he turned and left the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

Marianna hugged her knees to her chest. She pressed the fabric of Gerard’s shirt to her face and inhaled deeply, taking in his scent. It was the only thing keeping panic at bay.

No, that was false. There was nothing keeping panic at bay—it hovered just beyond the edge of thought, ready to sweep over her and suck her under. There would be no going back once that happened. Which meant she couldn’t let it get to her. Not yet.

She scrambled for her cards, dropping the shirt in the process. It didn’t matter—there was no one here to see her, after all. When she tried to shuffle them, the cards flew out of her hands, scattering across the floor. Marianna crawled after them, the first tears slipping through her lashes as she tried to hold in her sobs.

This hadn’t gone anything like she’d hoped. She thought seducing Gerard was the answer, but it had only muddled things further. Now, instead of him feeling softer toward her and willing to help, he was locked up as well. And Marianna doubted they treated traitors any better than they did Diviners.

He was going to die along with her, and it was all her fault.

Chapter Fourteen

“What a disappointment you’ve turned out to be.” The High Priest moved slowly around the table where Gerard was tied, his hands laced loosely behind his back. “I had such high hopes for you.”

“So sorry you’re dissatisfied with my performance.” Gerard pulled against the bindings, unable to help himself. He knew better, though—once you were tied to this table, there was no escaping.

“And yet you don’t sound apologetic at all.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t brought out the cat-o’-nine-tails.”

“I have yet to decide if you truly are a traitor.” He motioned to where Adam stood by. “It’s time to begin.”

Gerard knew exactly what would happen once Adam started cutting. They might not be ready to kill him, but there was a lot of damage one of Sanctify’s enforcers could do without crossing that final line.

Adam pulled his wheeled table closer, lifting a knife so Gerard could see. “She’s a new one—I’ve been wanting to try her out for weeks. How special that it’s your blood we’ll be shedding to pop her cherry.”

Before Gerard could speak, Adam struck, cutting deep across his chest and down his stomach. Shuddering, he bit back a growl of pain, not sure if it was better that he knew where Adam would cut next, or worse.

Right arm. Left arm. Chest, again and again. Things faded beneath a haze of red as rich as the blood flowing from his body. It was almost as if he could feel his strength leeching away with every cut, but they would never make him scream. Never.

And then…it stopped.

He blinked slowly, trying to force his eyes to focus on the High Priest, standing just outside the blood pool. “What—”

“Best not to speak, as you’ll only ruin your chance. I’m giving you the opportunity of mercy, you see. Not something we do often, I’ll grant you, but I think in this circumstance, it’s only fitting. That creature is quite beautiful, and the flesh is weak. You are only a man, after all.”

Gerard tried to swallow past the dryness in his throat. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, boy, it’s not as if you’re getting away without consequence. That would set a bad example for the men.”

Fear started at the base of his spine, spiraling upward. “What did you do?”

“It’s not what I did—it’s you who is responsible for this.”

“What did you do?” He tried to sit up, but the bindings bit into his chest and the pain nearly made him pass out. “Tell me. Please.”

It was Adam who answered, his voice far too smug. “Oberon.”

His mind went blank for one perfect moment before reality set in. His boy. His giggling little boy. “You did not hurt my son.”

“Of course not. What do you take me for?” The High Priest gave a dry chuckle and the bottom of Gerard’s stomach dropped out. “His death was quite painless, I can assure you.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please Ba’al, let it not be true. His breath rasped through his throat, the feeling barely registering against the well of emotional torment. It couldn’t be true. Oberon was just a child. But Gerard knew better than most that no one was safe from the wrath of Sanctify.

“Not my son, Adam. Not my boy.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest, blood dripping in slow plops from the knife still in his hand. “It was the only way to make you see, Leoni. There are always consequences—just like the High Priest said.”

The High Priest moved back into his line of sight. “Through your physical and emotional pain you have been cleansed. Now we can move past this small indiscretion and toward the future of Sanctify.”

Gerard couldn’t feel anything past the cocoon of numbness, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move as Adam undid his restraints and sat him up. The room swam, but he kept from falling through sheer strength of will.

“I will, however, need your word. You understand, I’m sure.”

He looked at the High Priest, wishing there was enough strength in his body to leap off the table and kill the man where he stood. No, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t do it yet—Marianna was still a prisoner. It was the thought of saving her that gave him the strength to find the appropriate words. “Of course, High Priest. I live to serve. I now see the error of my ways.”

“I had hoped you’d come around. Join me in saying Ba’al’s Benediction and then we shall get you cleaned up, son.”

“Of course.” He bowed his head, staring at the blood covering the floor. His blood. The words flowed effortlessly off his lips but, for the first time in Gerard’s life, they meant nothing to him. Less than nothing.

When he finished, the High Priest nodded. “There’s a good boy.” He turned and strode out of the room without a backward glance.

There was no way Gerard could walk. Adam seemed to know it because he scooped Gerard up as if he were no more than a child, carrying him through the halls and outside.

“It’ll be just like the good old days, before that bitch came along and started screwing with your head.”

Marianna. He was talking about Marianna. A part of Gerard tried to rise up and cast the blame on her. Things started to change once she came into his life. But that wasn’t entirely true. What changed was Gerard.

Oberon. Oh Ba’al, his boy was gone. And there was only one person to blame for the loss threatening to eat his very soul.

The High Priest.

He took every ounce of his pain and stored it away in a little box inside him. There was no place for it here. Instead, Gerard embraced his rage, pulling it to the surface until it blacked out all else. This he could deal with. This he could use.

“You’ll be a good boy now, right?” Adam helped him onto his bed and took a large step back. “I would really hate to have to go through this again.”

Gerard braced his hands on his knees. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“You’re right.” Adam laughed, high and long. “I’d just love to have you on the table again.”

Bastard. But he hadn’t expected anything else. Gerard was the one who trained Adam, after all. He’d seen the monster beneath the man from the beginning and he’d done nothing. The man was just another tool for Sanctify to use as the High Priest saw fit. Which meant Gerard was partly to blame for what Adam had become.

“So sorry to disappoint, Adam, but you won’t get that opportunity a second time.” He’d be long gone before this monster had a chance to try for him again.

“We’ll see. The old man, he thinks you’re tamed. Me?” Adam tapped the flat of his knife against his chin. “I think he just pushed you off the deep end. Can’t wait to see the fireworks.” With a final grin, he strode out of the room.

Gerard was going to kill that little shit one of these days. But not today. He let his head hang, drawing anger around him like a suit of armor. Nothing would get through it; no lesser emotion could stand against the wrath taking root in his soul. He’d kill the High Priest, but before he did, Gerard was going to take everything the man held dear. After all, he was only returning the favor.

His boy…

No, he couldn’t dwell on that. Not yet.

First he had to save Marianna.

Something soft tried to worm its way through his hate, but he squashed it. Yes, she mattered to him, meant more than he could begin to describe, especially after such a short time, but until they were free of this place, he couldn’t afford to feel it.

And they would be free.

But first, he had to find Fisk. And some med patches.

Chapter Fifteen

Even after drinking half his weight in supplements, Gerard was still weak as hells, but he couldn’t wait any longer. It was too risky with the date of Marianna’s scheduled death quickly approaching.

Fisk answered his call after three rings. “What?”

Gerard stared at the link in his hand, trying to decide how to proceed. In the end, he took the direct route. “I need your help.”

“I figured this was coming. I’ll be there in five.”

Those five minutes were some of the longest of Gerard’s life. He paced the room seven times, circling round and round. The motion made his head spin, and he had to catch himself on the edge of the bed before he fell. When Fisk finally walked through his door, Gerard was ready to burst from his skin. “Took your time.”

Fisk held up his watch. “Actually, I took four minutes. I’m early.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I know, a regular comedian.” Fisk leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “So are we breaking Marianna out, or what?”

“You know?” What was he saying? Of course Fisk knew. “Any ideas how to proceed?”

“Yeah. Rescue the girl, steal a ship, and fly off into the nearest warp point, never to be seen again.” He laughed. “I figured you’d be planning something like this. I have a ship that’s just been repaired. Made sure no one’s scheduled on it for over a week, so you’re clear on that.”

“How convenient.” He had the codes to get past Control. If they could get the thing airborne, they had a shot at the warp point… From there they could find a safe place to hide and start over.

“I think so. I also think you’re going to need me to get her out. I figure you can stage a distraction. I’ll send the newbie ahead to get everything ready for us, and I’ll retrieve Marianna.”

“You seem to have this all figured out.” Which was a relief, because between the damn med patches and the supplements, it was hard for him to think straight. He wanted to itch at his wounds and pass out for a good twelve hours, but neither of those was an option right now.

Fisk shrugged. “Not exactly. You’ll have to figure out something for the distraction.”

“You leave me with the messy part and take the pretty woman for yourself. Typical.”

“I know.” He grinned. “We need to do this tonight if it’s going to work. Even then, it’s a long shot at best.”

“You and I excel at long shots.” Gerard swayed on his feet and glanced at the clock. “When?”

“Try to sleep for a few hours. We’ll meet after midnight.”

“Okay.” Sleep sounded good, if he could manage to get his mind to stop racing. That didn’t seem likely, but at the very least he could try to rest for a bit.

Fisk patted his shoulder. “It will be okay, Leoni.”

Gerard reeled back, pressing a hand to his shoulder. It throbbed where the needle had entered his skin. “Did you just…drug me?”

“It’s only a mild sedative. You’ll be right as rain in time to do some damage.” He guided Gerard back to the bed and leaned over to set the alarm on the clock. “Don’t forget—make it good enough to get everybody running.”

“I’m gonna…kick your ass.”

“Sure you are. Right when you get your legs under you again.”

“Asshole,” he slurred, unable to even lift his head to follow Fisk as he moved around the room.

“Sleep tight. See you soon.”

…

Marianna sat in the dark, clutching her cards to her chest and rocking back and forth. Two days and it would all end—that’s what she’d heard the guards talking about when they delivered the food she never touched. The big festival, in which the main attraction would be her torture and death.

Panic surged but she fought it back, clinging to sanity by her fingernails. Giving in would do nothing to help her now—it would only make things infinitely worse. And her situation was terrible enough without her turning into a weepy, inconsolable mess.

But all her brave thoughts didn’t stop her stomach from twisting painfully as the door slid open. Her terror dissipated when she recognized Fisk in the doorway and the slumped guard on the ground behind him. Marianna took a deep breath, forcing back the fear. The cards had promised hope, even if she didn’t quite believe it. “What are you doing here?”

He struck a heroic pose, chest puffed out and fists propped against his sides. “Saving the damsel in distress—what does it look like?”

“Um…”

“Get up, get up. We don’t have a lot of time. Gerard set fire to the bar, but it won’t keep them occupied for long.”

“Fire?” She allowed him to pull her to her feet and hustle them to the door, wondering all the while if this were an elaborate trick by the High Priest. Doubt and fear were almost enough to make her turn around, but Marianna couldn’t quell the hope blossoming. She had to try. What was the worst that could happen?

That question seemed to get her into trouble more often than not these days, but it wasn’t as if things could get any worse. She followed Fisk through the halls, winding their way along a different route than he’d brought her in a week ago. He must have caught her questioning look, because he said, “I told them that I was sent to relieve the guard. If I come charging out with you, they’ll know something’s up.” A shadow passed over his face. “And, as wrong as my brothers are, I really don’t want to have to hurt or kill them.”

Though she didn’t exactly agree with him—plenty of these men deserved horrific pain—she didn’t argue. Marianna just wanted to be free. She sent up a prayer to the Lady, begging for this escape to be successful.

Fisk stopped so abruptly she almost ran into his back. Voices sounded from around the corner in front of them. She slid back a step, her heart trying to beat its way out of her chest, when a high-pitched man’s laugh echoed from behind them. “Oh, Fisk, I’d hoped you’d be a little more original than this.”

Fisk went unnaturally still, hand on his laser. “Adam.”

Marianna spun around and pressed her hand to her mouth. The blond man from Gerard’s ship. The one he’d gone to such great lengths to keep from touching her. As she took in the sick smile on his face, Marianna decided she fully supported that plan. Judging by the laser aimed at her chest, it didn’t seem as if she’d have much of a choice.

“Put the laser down, Fisk. I’d really hate to have to hurt you.” He cackled again, the sound setting her teeth on edge. “Okay, that’s a dirty lie. I’d love to hurt you.”

She felt, rather than heard, more men come up on the other side of Fisk. They’d hurt Fisk and take her back to that cell where she’d wait to die. This was the end. There really was no escape. She was going to die.

The dismal thought snapped her back into the present. Was she really considering giving up without a fight?

No. She would not be taken passively.

Marianna dove for Adam’s legs, taking him down the same way Darla had taught her all those years ago. The laser went flying, spinning down the hallway. Sounds of fighting broke out behind her, but she was only focused on getting that damned laser and making an end of this.

They rolled, knocking against the wall as he tried to shake her loose. Instead of letting go under the barrage of pain, Marianna went for his eyes. He screamed, swinging wildly and hitting the side of her head against the wall. For one terrifying moment, her muscles stopped responding, and she hit the ground hard.

If she didn’t move, he’d calm down long enough to get the laser. Marianna had no illusions about her chances then.

While Adam flailed around, clutching his ruined face, she forced her damaged body to move down the hall when all she wanted was to curl up and be done with this. The laser felt foreign in her hands as she rolled over and pointed it at where Adam struggled to his feet. He turned in her direction, the blood running like tears down his face. “I’m going to kill you, whore.”

“No, you’re not.” She pulled the trigger, the laser kicking so hard it nearly flew from her grip. The beam went wide, creating a crater in the plaster beside him. The bastard actually laughed at her. Marianna gritted her teeth, fighting back panic as he started toward her. Taking careful aim, she pulled the trigger again. This time the beam scorched his chest and knocked him into the wall. Adam slumped to the ground, the life gone from his body.

Marianna’s breath hitched, her stomach lurching. A man was dead because of her, his life snuffed out, all chances of redemption extinguished. She dropped the laser, kicking it farther down the hall, all without taking her gaze from Adam. He was a monster, but he’d been a man, too.

When someone grabbed her shoulder, she shrieked. Fisk slapped a hand over her mouth. His eyes were dilated and blood stained his hairline, but he dredged up a half smile for her. “If they haven’t heard us yet, we don’t want to catch their attention now. Come on—let’s get out of here.”

…

The fire worked better than Gerard could have expected. He waited around long enough to make sure the flames caught and the shouts started, then slipped between buildings, keeping to the shadows as he headed for the shipyard. A gut feeling made him change direction, swinging around the dorms instead of taking the quicker way. He should trust Fisk to get Marianna, but the only thing keeping him going right now was making sure she got out of this alive. It was his fault she was here in the first place, after all, and she was the only one left for him to save.

His boy…

Gerard shoved the thought away before it could take root, picking up his pace even though it made his body scream in agony. He circled around the back of the holding cells, aiming for the secondary exit just in time to meet Fisk dragging Marianna out. Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Gerard?”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before she shook free of Fisk and threw herself into his arms. Pain made the world go hazy, but he held on tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

“I know you’re all happy to see each other and everything, but we need to keep moving.” Fisk shifted from foot to foot, gaze jumping around as if he expected an attack at any moment. He looked like he’d been on the shit end of a fight, but at least he was still standing. “Your happily ever after is waiting.”

There was no such thing, but Gerard would take whatever he could get. He nodded, keeping an arm around Marianna. “Let’s go.”

They wove though the warships, the eerie silence only broken by distant shouts as their brothers worked frantically to put out the fire. It wouldn’t work—witchfire was notorious for resisting flame retardants. Fisk led the way, stopping in front of a beat-up old skiff. It wasn’t pretty, but Gerard trusted his friend knew what he was doing. He had to let go of Marianna in order to climb the ladder to the hatch, and Gerard did so reluctantly. It was only then that he noticed the blood coating her hair. “You’re hurt.”

She raised a hand to her head, giving a shaky smile. “I’ll live. Please, just get us out of here.”

His perfect wall of rage cracked in the face of her bravery, even after all she’d been through—all of it his fault. “Marianna, I—” The words died somewhere around his throat, unable to be voiced. There was too much else wrapped around his heart, squeezing so tightly he couldn’t seem to draw a full breath.

“I know.” She kissed him, hard and brief, before turning and climbing the ladder, more agile than any squirrel. Gerard followed at a slower pace, grunting under the strain of pulling himself up. Tearing the med patches was guaranteed, but he’d worry about it later.

Blaine waited for them in the hub. He started to salute, but the motion died when he caught sight of Marianna. “W-What’s going on? What is she doing here?” His brown eyes went wide. “You’re breaking her out.”

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. Gerard maneuvered Marianna behind him in case the newbie tried to do something stupid.

“I can’t let you do that.” The redhead drew himself up, reaching for his laser. “By the order of the High Priest, I—”

Gerard moved before the newbie could finish the sentence. He stepped into Blaine, grabbing his head and twisting it sharply. As the boy hit the floor, the last part of Gerard tied to Sanctify died. Whether for better or worse, he was done with it.

He glanced up as Fisk came through the door. “It had to be done.”

Fisk shrugged and headed into the cockpit, leaving the door open.

Gerard startled when Marianna touched him. She very deliberately didn’t look at the body on the floor. “Would it be possible to remove him before we take off?”

Idiot. He should have thought of that. With a nod, he scooped up the body and staggered from the room, heading for the hatch. It was quick work to dump it. Gerard took one last look at Sanctus as the door slid shut. Ba’al willing, he’d never set foot on this planet again.

Fisk had the ship ready to go by the time Gerard made it back into the hub, his hands flying over the controls. “Better strap in. I’m going for a quick, rather than smooth, ride.”

“Heard that line before.” Gerard helped Marianna with her harness before he dropped into the seat next to her and strapped himself in.

The ship lifted off with a lurch, throwing them sideways. Marianna’s hand found his, and Gerard held on to her as though she were his lifeline. Hells, she was. Without her, he had nothing else to live for but revenge.

“It will be okay.” When he looked at her, she sighed. “Perhaps okay isn’t the correct word. But it will get better.”

“Some things never get better, Marianna.” The boy—he couldn’t even bear to think his son’s name. The gaping hole inside him widened, just waiting for an unwary step to swallow him completely. Gerard had no intention of taking that step. Ever.

“We can argue about it later, if you like.” She gave his hand a squeeze as the ship shuddered while passing through the atmosphere. “What will you do now?”

The future loomed, nearly as terrifying as the pit inside him. “I had hoped…we could spend some time together when you’re not my captive.”

“Would you like to come to Keiluna with me? It might not be much, but it’s home.”

Keiluna was the first place Sanctify would look for them—or maybe it was the last place. No one would believe he’d be stupid enough to return to where this all started. “I’d like that.”

He wanted time with her, but he also needed to recoup. To gather his credits and connections and put into motion the plan starting to form in his mind.

Gerard looked at Marianna, her head tilted back and eyes closed. Revenge would take him far, but there was a spark between them that he wanted to explore. It was more than her beauty; she carried an inner strength he had never seen before. And the way she looked at him… Yeah, he wanted to see where this went, to see if they really had a chance outside Sanctify’s hold. He brought their interlaced hands up and kissed her knuckles. “I’ve heard Keiluna is beautiful in the winter.”

Those violet eyes opened and she gave a soft smile. “What about Sanctify?”

“I have a few ideas.” There were so many rebel groups trying to fight against the inevitable tide that was Sanctify, but they were lacking in weapons and direction. He could supply them with both.

She arched an eyebrow. “We’ll take on the devil together?”

“The devil, the High Priest, and anyone else fool enough to come after us.”

Acknowledgments

To God, always and forever.

Also to my family, for putting up with me during the hectic last six months. Nice to know I can show up unexpectedly and they’ll feed me and send me on my way.

To my betas, Seleste DeLaney, Lisa Basso, and Nina Croft. This book wouldn’t be anything without your input!

To Heather Howland for demanding Marianna and Gerard’s story be told. This book wouldn’t even exist without you, and it sure as heck wouldn’t be any good.

About the Author

Katee Robert learned to tell stories at her grandpa’s knee. Her favorites then were the rather epic adventures of The Three Bears, but at age twelve she discovered romance novels and never looked back. Now living in Eastern Washington, she spends her time— in between ogling men and planning for the inevitable zombie apocalypse—writing speculative romance novels.

Keep reading for sample chapters of QUEEN OF SWORDS, the first novel in the Sanctify series…

When the cards tell Ophelia Leoni she’s supposed to marry the Prince of Hansarda, the gunrunner grits her teeth and boards the starship that comes for her. It doesn’t matter if the ship’s commander is the gorgeous stranger she just spent a wild, drunken night with. As a Diviner, she’s painfully aware the cards don’t lie. Ever.

Boone O’Keirna knows Ophelia is trouble the second he sees the way she moves. Not about to let the little hellcat marry his sadistic half-brother, Boone pretends to be the Prince’s emissary and kidnaps Ophelia. Too bad they can’t be in the same room without him wanting to throw her out an airlock–or into bed.

Even as they fight each other–and their explosive attraction–Ophelia and Boone sense something is wrong. Too much is going their way. Soon, they realize while the cards may never lie, the truth is sometimes hidden between them...and the future king of Hansarda is not one to take defeat lying down.

Available in stores everywhere June 2012.

Chapter One

Ophelia couldn’t find her underwear.

They had to have been around there somewhere. She’d been wearing them last night, after all, but she was hard pressed to find that small piece of silk amongst the other clothing scattered about the room.

She stood up, hands on her hips, and scowled. Against her better judgment, her gaze slid to the man taking up more than his fair share of the bed. He was delicious. Absolutely delicious. Even relaxed in sleep, his muscles stood out beneath tanned skin marred by scars. The marks crisscrossed up his back and over his shoulders, perfect, shiny lines made by some kind of blade, or maybe giant claws. They were almost enough to make her reconsider her morning-after policy and crawl back into bed with him.

Her link beeped again, setting her teeth on edge. The damn thing was what woke her in the first place, and now she couldn’t even find it. Ophelia moved around the room, picking up her clothes. Yeah, she should definitely crawl back into bed with the hot man. She’d do damn near anything to escape the memories of Sanctify’s white hull looming before her ship, her crew’s frightened faces…

Nope. Not thinking about it.

And still no underwear.

Oh well. She shimmied into her pants and pulled on her shiny silver tank top. In the hazy light of morning, she felt rumpled and twitchy. Her link beeped again, giving her a better idea of where it was—under the bed. Growling uncomplimentary things, she sank to her stomach and peered into the shadows. Sure enough, the link’s small screen was lit up against the back wall. Ophelia grabbed it and headed into the bathroom, locking the door for good measure, and brought up her messages.

Her stomach clenched when her mother’s voice came online. “Good morning, daughter. I trust you slept well last night.”

It was like she knew what Ophelia had been doing. Considering she was a second-level Diviner—known as a Tyche by their species—it was likely she did. Ophelia shoved the hair out of her eyes, refusing to feel guilty. Or at least making a good effort at it. She’d lost her whole damn crew, for the Lady’s sake. A failure like that deserved a little drinking.

Her mother continued on, looking remarkably put together despite the fact the call had been placed before Keiluna’s twin suns breached the horizon. But then, Mama always looked put together. It was downright unnatural. “In any case, your father and I need to speak with you immediately. We will see you for breakfast.”

Corpse’s fingers traced up Ophelia’s spine and down her arms, raising goose bumps in their wake. Damn. Her mother might support Azure Enterprises, might agree with their mission, but she also never involved herself with the dirty details, let alone something so small as a run.

Something was up, something to do with the Lady’s business. That’s the only reason Mama would be the one making this call.

Double damn.

She cast a quick look around the bathroom, frowned at the flash of red in the hot tub, and crossed the black-tiled floor. Sure enough, her underwear floated along the surface. Ophelia grimaced as she hooked them with a single finger and raised the dripping cloth. The dripping ripped cloth. All evidence pointed to her having the time of her life last night.

Too bad she didn’t remember it.

She frowned, thinking hard, but last night was one big blank. Which had been the plan, of course. It had started at her favorite pub, The Hammer, and she vaguely remembered deciding to go dancing after midnight, but then everything faded into a pleasant grayness. She was going to have to make sure she tipped Lacy next time she was in—those drinks had been strong enough to make even her wince and Ophelia was all about more bang for her credits. Still…pretty soon she would have to tone it down on the whole blacking-out thing. Too much could go wrong, from her killing someone to getting kidnapped.

Dropping the underwear on the floor—something to remember her by—she walked out of the bathroom. After pulling on her boots, she took one last look around the room. Whatever else happened, she must have had a universe-shattering time. The bed covers were tangled on the floor, and the entire bed skewed sideways where the springs had broken in. And there were the telltale remains of spray-on condoms scattered about. Thank the Lady, because the last thing she needed right now was a baby. She couldn’t even take care of her own crew.

The man rolled over and she tensed, her gaze flying to his face. When he didn’t open his eyes, she breathed a little sigh of relief. He really was delicious. Those cheekbones were sharp enough to cut and that jaw certainly wasn’t weak. Still…he wasn’t pretty by any means. Such a waste when paired with a body like that.

She found her bag near the door and a quick check told her nothing was missing, so she walked out the door without looking back. It was bad luck, after all.

The prominence of red and black in the decor was enough to indicate where she was. Death’s Door. It wasn’t the safest area during the best of times and, since the riots, it was damn near fatal for someone like her. What in the hells had possessed her to come to this part of town last night? Especially with the patrols Sanctify had scouting the streets, ready to scoop up anyone who showed signs of being less than human. Gods knew they’d jump at the chance to nab one of their dreaded Diviner enemies. What happened to those unfortunate souls didn’t bear thinking about, especially knowing her crewmembers had suffered the same fate.

To save her.

Surely it wasn’t too early to start drinking?

She shook off the memories of those final moments on the Dutchman, before Akito and Kana drugged her and tossed her into an escape pod. She’d need to keep her head straight if she planned to make it out of here. Death’s Door wasn’t a place for nonhumans, no matter the flavor. Ophelia couldn’t begin to imagine how she got through the door in the first place. Sure, she looked human, but only until people saw her eyes. Even with the implants and upgrades available to anyone with enough cash, no one besides Diviners had eyes this shade of blue-violet.

Right now the only thing that mattered was getting back to her parents’ house. Mama’s call had her on edge, her mind full of questions, her instincts screaming warnings. Bypassing the elevators—too easy to get penned in—she took the stairs down, thankful no one else was up and around at this ungodly hour. As soon as she was outside, the band around her chest loosened a bit.

Above her, the sky stretched wide, a color somewhere between yellow and orange that would change several months from now when the winter storms hit. Ophelia slipped on a pair of red-tinted glasses, glaring at the flickering posters depicting the ancient High Priest of Ba’al. Attached to the walls of nearly every building on the street, they were larger than life, each taller than her nearly two meters, and their damn tech was so good the bastard actually moved. He waved an age-spotted hand and smiled, the words “Purity Will Protect You” flashing below his face. It made her sick knowing there were those who actually believed shit like that.

Unable to stand the sight any longer, she turned her attention to the thin crowd filtering through the streets. The only people out were dressed in muted colors and moved quickly about their business, hoods pulled up to conceal their features. As Ophelia watched, a small group of dirty teenagers skirted the edges of the buildings, their shifty eyes suggesting they were looking for their next score.

They were all human.

Shifting her bag higher on her shoulder, she started walking, keeping her eyes to the ground and her pace up. As long as no one looked too closely, she could pass for human. But the trick was not to draw attention to herself. Even as the thought crossed her mind, she heard militant steps that could only mean one thing. A Sanctify patrol, and one closing fast.

As if her morning could get any worse.

Ophelia kept her stride even, acting as if she had every right to be there, hoping to the Lady they wouldn’t look too closely at her. Those bastards jumped at any excuse for a public bonfire, and nabbing a Diviner would be a huge coup.They passed her at a fast clip, obviously having somewhere to be. The closest one, a tiny man with tattoos depicting Ba’al, cast a searching look her way but didn’t pause.

She waited until they rounded the corner before breathing out a prayer of thanks to the Lady. That had been close. Too close. Keiluna used to be the perfect place for Azure Enterprise’s base, lots of people coming and going, a population diverse enough for anyone to blend in. But then Sanctify had turned its bloody eye their way and taken over.

Oh, officially it was still owned by the Delegate of Quadrant Four, but those monsters had slipped in, whispering poison until the perfect opportunity arose. This time it came in the form of an “attack” on a human child by one of the Bolkerians. If anyone had stopped for half a second to think, they would have realized the alien meant the little one no harm, that the boy just got underfoot and the Bolkerian didn’t move fast enough to avoid him. It was a terrible, terrible accident that he’d been impaled, but it had been enough to spark a fire of hate directed at anyone different.

The riots had gone on for days, a bonfire set up in damn near every intersection, until the alien population was decimated.

And now Sanctify held the reins, ruling a people suddenly fearful of anything different.

Though her thoughts were consumed with darkness, the streets around her had begun to take on a more cared-after look, the busted windows replaced by metal bars and eventually by higher-end materials—the homes of people with enough credits to replace what was lost in the fires and violence. The faded paint, streaked with soot, changed as well, evolving into cheery blues, greens, and yellows. There were even carefully tended flowers blooming, the pretty purple ones so common on this planet, bunches of heart-shaped petals so full, they trailed over the window ledges to hang above the street. Their subtle scent teased her, as if this dash of beautiful could cover up the ugliness lurking within.

After a quick look around to make sure no one was paying attention, Ophelia jogged up the three stairs leading to a yellow house with a muted blue door. She’d been trying to convince her parents to move somewhere more secure since even before the riots, but Mama liked to be accessible to her clients and Papa claimed the best place to hide was in plain sight, that no one would expect the leader of Azure Enterprises to be hiding on a planet controlled by their enemy. Ophelia thought it was bullshit, but once Papa got an idea in his head, there was no moving him. Mama was supposed to be the calm and rational one, but she wasn’t much better.

So Ophelia was forced to content herself with ensuring they had multiple escape routes and hideaways in case things went south.

The muzzle of a gun met her as soon as she entered the door.

She froze, a small smile tugging her lips. “Papa, put that antique away. It’s only me.”

Her father lowered his gun and Ophelia rolled her eyes. The damn thing was so old it probably didn’t even work. Then again, this was her father she was talking about. He wouldn’t haul around a useless weapon.

“Your mother is in the kitchen.”

An icy chill of foreboding snaked its way through her. “What’s going on, Papa?”

He shot her a look and stalked down the stairs. The fact he was cranky but not battening down the hatches should have been comforting. Instead, her anxiety skyrocketed. This was definitely about the Lady’s business, and she knew all too well how nasty things could get when someone didn’t heed the Lady’s warnings. It shouldn’t be so terrifying, since readings were an integral part of her world, but Ophelia couldn’t shake the feeling her life was poised on the precipice, readying to fall.

Lady, but she hoped not.

…

Boone woke the moment the Diviner got out of bed. He listened to her mutter and curse as she moved around the room before finally retreating into the bathroom.

Last night had been a mistake. He was only supposed to scope her out, see what was so special about some woman from Keiluna that made Kristian send spies to watch her.

She’d looked so untouchable sitting there with an entire bottle of the clear alcohol they brewed on-planet, wearing a tiny top revealing more than it covered and black pants looking painted on. But it wasn’t her body that held his attention—there were plenty of beautiful women flaunting themselves in the bar—it was the way she moved when she went for her second bottle. The loose way she walked, as if she were ready to spring into violence at any moment. It was a radical opposite from the pretties Kristian had carted back to Hansarda to populate his harem.

Really, she was more Boone’s type than his half brother’s. Her obvious battle training paired with the sweeping black hair and delicate features were quite the package.

Even with those damned violet eyes.

But the part that drew him in the most was the vulnerability on her face when she thought no one was looking. Her shoulders slumped, and her fingers framed the bottle in front of her as if it were the most precious thing in the universe.

He’d had to talk to her, to see if her personality held up the physical promise. Surely she was as empty-headed as the other women Kristian cultivated, a pretty face who could barely hold a conversation.

Boone really should have known better.

He was in trouble as soon as he heard her throaty sex-vid-star-would-kill-for voice. It didn’t help that she’d been telling some poseur to shove off before she jammed his balls down his throat. The combination of strength and weakness was an intoxicating one he had no hope of resisting.

The bathroom door swished open, jerking him back to the present. He listened to her breath hiss out as she sat across from the bed.

Boone contemplated trying for another round. He could still taste her on his lips, and it was driving him crazy. They’d been together more times last night than he could count and still he craved the feel of her skin against him. But last night was a mistake, and not one he could afford to repeat. Maybe if he kept thinking that, he’d start to believe it. Besides, she’d hate him soon enough. All of Kristian’s floozies did. Just because she seemed different from the countless others didn’t indicate a different outcome.

As soon as she left the room, he rolled back over and stretched. He was tired and sore and felt fantastically used. The woman really was something.

His wrist unit beeped, and Boone sighed. Couldn’t Jenny give him a few minutes to enjoy the afterglow? He opened the call, leaving the screen blank. His little sister didn’t need to see where he was and start asking questions. “What?”

“Now, now, is that any way to speak to your favorite sister?”

“You’re my only sister.”

Jenny laughed. “Technicalities.” Even without the screen on, he knew her gray eyes, so similar to his own, were dancing with mischief. Which meant trouble for anyone in her sights.

Boone flopped back on the bed and propped his head on his free arm, the movement pulling at old wounds. He rolled his neck, fighting against the tide of memories threatening to drown him. Kristian coaxing him down to the dungeon to hide from the old man. The chains digging into his wrists. The knife, gods, that damned knife…

“You’re not even paying attention to me!”

He could have kissed his sister for pulling him free of the past, even as Boone hoped to the gods he wasn’t going to have to clean up another of her messes. “What do you want, Jenny?”

“What’s she like?” She was only snooping. Thank the gods for small favors.

Boone glared at his wrist unit, but it wouldn’t have intimidated her into silence, even if she could see him. Jenny wasn’t afraid of anything. “You are not calling to ask about Kristian’s new whore.” To call her that felt like a betrayal, but he slapped down the feeling. She may have been amazing last night, but if she became a member of the prince’s harem, she was an enemy, plain and simple.

“Bo-oo-ne.” Jenny stretched his name into three syllables. “Stop playing with my emotions and tell me what she’s like. Is she vapid? Lazy? A royal bitch like the last one? Come on, I’m dying here.”

“No.”

Jenny was silent for what felt like an eternity. A new record. “No? That’s interesting.”

“Yeah.” He pictured those violet eyes gone hazy with passion. “She’s not at all like we expected.”

“Can we use her?”

That was the question. Judging from last night alone, the Diviner wasn’t a woman someone used lightly. Hells, she’d probably fillet anyone who tried. “I don’t know.”

“You sound weird. What happened?”

Of course Jenny would pick up on his distraction. “Nothing. We’ll talk later.” He reached over and ended the call. Almost immediately, the unit rang again. Boone clicked it on. “Damn it, Jenny—”

“Hello, little brother.”

He froze, his gaze glued to the screen showing the man who had been his enemy for nearly ten years, ever since he’d chained Boone in the dungeon and tried to cut the skin from his back.

Dread curled in his gut. “Kristian.”

Chapter Two

It took fifteen minutes to jump in a sans shower and change her clothes, but Ophelia couldn’t talk with her mother reeking of sex and wearing the same clothes she left the house in. Feeling significantly better, she made her way back downstairs to the kitchen and paused in the doorway, taking in the scene from so many childhood talks. Mama sat at the table sipping a steaming cup of her favorite tea, the warm glow of Keiluna’s twin suns filtering through the large windows. The only jarring note of the whole picture was a small frown line between her mother’s brows. Mama never frowned.

“Come in, daughter.”

She did as she was told, sliding into the seat across the table. “What’s happened?”

“Always so impatient.” The words were right—Mama was never one to rush—but there was strain evident in her tone.

“Mama, what’s wrong?”

Her mother took a deep breath and folded her hands around her cup. The white of her knuckles was yet another indication of worry. What in the seven hells was going on? Mama was never less than serene. Something had her spooked. Ophelia found herself reaching for the thick metal bracelet on her right wrist. It could snap into a dagger with the click of a button—one of the many inventions that put their little gunrunning business on the radar of anyone willing to fight Sanctify.

“Daughter, there is something we need to discuss.”

Ophelia rolled her shoulders, trying to dispel the tension knotting its way through her body.
“I’m not really in the mood for one of our talks.”

“Yes, I know. You’ve been hiding for two weeks now, avoiding me and the Lady.”

Her mother held up a hand, forestalling the protest that wasn’t coming. She was right—Ophelia had been avoiding her. Or, rather, the constant reminder of what happened when she didn’t trust the Lady. Her crew’s terrified faces flashed through her mind, gone almost as quickly as they’d come. She shouldn’t have gone on that last mission. She shouldn’t have ignored the warning in the cards—

“I was willing to give you time to grieve and work through things on your own,” her mother continued, breaking her from the downward spiral of her thoughts, “however, there are things at work that are beyond our own personal comfort. The Lady’s work.”

Ophelia clutched her mug tighter, telling herself there was nothing to be afraid of. As long as she kept whatever the cards told her close this time, nothing like that would happen again. Not to say something bad wouldn’t happen—bad things happened all the time, that was life—but it wouldn’t be her fault if they did.

“What’s going on?”

“Always so impatient,” her mother said again.

“I get it from Papa.” No one in their right mind would accuse her mother of such a messy emotion.

“Yes, I suppose you do.” Same answer as always, but there was a hint of sadness in Mama’s violet gaze. It looked like there was more she wanted to say, but she smiled serenely instead. “Have you eaten?”

Ophelia bit back a scream of frustration. This was how Mama worked, how she’d always worked. Just because Ophelia only got more impatient with age didn’t mean anything. She obediently went to the InstaChef and scrolled through the selection, picking out egg substitute, tofu, and insta-spuds because she knew Mama would disapprove. Childish, but so was making her wait.

Mama sniffed. “You shouldn’t put such things in your body.”

It was an old argument, comforting in its predictability. If Mama had her way, they’d only stock synth-free food, but this was probably the only disagreement Papa ever won. Ophelia took a bite of the eggs and sighed. “Can you please tell me what happened now?”

“Of course.” Mama tucked a strand of pale hair behind her ear. “The Prince of Hansarda has asked for your hand in marriage.”

Ophelia choked, spewing half-chewed eggs. “You’re joking.” Marriage. Even thinking the word made her want to flee to the nearest spaceport. She could jump to one of the Far Reach planets, be gone before anyone knew she was running in the first place.

“You know better daughter.” Mama grabbed a hand towel to clean up the mess, effectively blocking Ophelia’s path to the door.

Obviously she was going to have to resign herself to having this conversation, “Why me?” Even as she asked, a suspicious thought wormed its way into her mind. When Mama just watched impassively, she gave it voice. “Because of the guns. He thinks marrying me will give him access to Azure.”

It wasn’t a bad plan, as such things went. They were the main supplier for everyone and anyone who worked against Sanctify, and thanks to Mac, Azure’s resident genius, their “little” family business possessed the most cutting-edge technology, both defensive and offensive. They used the loose governing practices of the Star Council the same way Sanctify did to take advantage of the individual planets left to govern themselves.

But they were completely anonymous. Or they should have been. “How does he know who I am?”

Mama dropped the dirty towel into the laundry shoot. “Perhaps he’s heard tell of you.”

“Unlikely.” Ophelia made it a point to keep a low profile. The only exception was her nighttime activities here, but Keiluna was a party planet—or it used to be. Before the riots, it would have been odd if she spent so much time here and didn’t drink herself stupid with some regularity, just another vacationer with more money than sense. Which was the point.

How in the hells were they going to clean up this mess? This guy was prince of an entire planet. It wasn’t as if she could waltz in and shoot him dead for knowing who she was.

Ophelia crossed her arms over her chest, fighting back panic. If he knew who they were, then the information might be floating about the techno-waves, waiting for anyone interested to pick it up. They had to get out of here, had to hunker down until they came up with a plan. Sanctify would love to permanently remove the thorn in their side that was Azure Enterprises. Not to mention the coup it would be for them to find not one, but two, Diviners. She shuddered to think of the possible fate awaiting her.

Ophelia wasn’t a fan of death by burning.

Or being slaughtered with lasers like her crew had been.

She took a deep breath and tried to slow her racing pulse. “Obviously there’s something you’re not telling me, otherwise Papa would already have us on the run. What’s going on?”

Mama motioned to Ophelia’s bag where she’d dropped it on the floor when she came into the room. “Do a reading.”

She went completely still, remembering the last time her mother uttered those words. Dread twisted in her stomach, radiating outward until it was a physical weight on her shoulders, a noose ready to tighten. To a Diviner, the cards were both a gift and a curse, acting as a conduit to the Lady’s will. Whatever the reading said, she had no choice but to abide by it. She couldn’t risk anyone else she cared about being caught in the fallout of not obeying the Lady. Ophelia wanted to scream in fear and frustration, to rail against how perfectly trapped she felt by those damn cards.

The hairs on the back of Ophelia’s neck stood up, but she did as she was told, reaching into her bag for the box containing her cards. It was engraved and made from the obsidian wood found on Beshmai. The planet wasn’t on interstellar maps—it had been found by Ophelia’s great grandfather, Jeremiah, on one of his countless explorations. He’d kept the location a secret and the natives allowed him and his descendants to visit, holding them in high regard.

Shaking off her thoughts, she pressed the dual switches to release the lid. Her cards had been Jeremiah’s, the bag containing them frayed from countless years of loving use. They poured into her hands like long-lost friends, instantly quelling her growing unease. Yes, this is what she needed, even if she dreaded the message.

Ophelia shuffled the deck and cut it three times, flipping over three cards in quick succession. Sheer stubbornness kept her in her seat when she wanted to run from the message waiting in front of her. She closed her eyes and took a few cleansing breaths before facing her fate.

Her hand moved almost of its own will to the first card. The Fool. A journey begun. She touched the second card. The Wheel of Fortune. A turning point, a change in luck, whether for the bad or good. The Ten of Cups. A fortunate marriage, contentment of the heart, and the perfection of human love and friendship.

It couldn’t have been clearer if the cards spelled out: Marry the prince and live happily ever after.

Ophelia sat back and rubbed her hands over her face, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t want to get married.” The stranger’s face from last night flickered through her mind, gone in an instant, just like any chance she had of ever meeting him again. Her mind raced to find another meaning, another message.

A way out.

She knew better now. To deny the cards was to invite disaster. Because Ophelia hadn’t listened last time, Sanctify had hijacked The Dutchman and killed her crew. Grief surged hot and thick in her throat until she could barely breathe for the need to cry. But she wouldn’t give in to the impulse. She didn’t deserve the relief. Akito and Kana might have lived if she’d listened when the Lady communicated the warning.

But she hadn’t listened, too focused on the big payoff they’d have gotten to stop and consider the risks. Guilt joined her grief, almost too much to bear.

She would do as the cards said, no matter how unsavory the task, because Ophelia couldn’t handle any more innocent blood on her hands.

“I know, daughter, I know.” Mama stood and wrapped her thin arms around her. “But the cards never lie, and this is the fate they’ve laid out for you.”

Papa cleared his throat, startling both of them with his appearance in the narrow doorway. “You don’t have to do this, baby girl.”

Ophelia’s stomach took residence somewhere north of her heart. She wished she could give him the answer he wanted, to erase the horrible look from his face. Too bad life never worked out like that. “I have to.”

“This is your doing, Marianna,” he growled, crossing the kitchen and shoving a finger in her mother’s face. “If it wasn’t for your ridiculous superstitions and woo-woo feelings, she wouldn’t feel like she had to go.”

Mama let go of Ophelia and wrapped her fist around the offending finger, pushing it away. “She has to go. If you try to keep her, there will be consequences.” She paused. “Just as there were last time.”

“Don’t you dare throw that in my face, woman. What happened on The Dutchman was a terrible tragedy and nothing more.”

“Bullshit.”

They all froze, gazes flying to Mama’s face. Papa made a choked sound, his face turning a deep burgundy. Once he got going, he could yell for hours, and Mama would just sit there and watch him, using a few choice words to piss him off further.

Ophelia slid from her seat and moved between them, forcing their attention off each other. “I’m going. End of discussion.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Then sit down, baby girl, and I’ll make you some real breakfast.”

She obeyed, pulling Mama down with her. Her mother gave a soft smile. “Things will work out.” Because she was Tyche, Mama got feelings sometimes that were as accurate as if she used the cards. The problem was they weren’t always specific.

The smell of bacon—real bacon—filled the room, making Ophelia’s mouth water. She’d loved watching her father cook ever since she was a child, had spent hours in this kitchen with him. He certainly didn’t look like the homemaker type. His shoulders were absurdly large, closer to Bolkerian than human—minus the spikes, of course.

He set a glass of orange juice in front of her. “You don’t have to go. It’s too soon. Stay here and we’ll keep you safe.”

Ophelia ignored Mama’s huff and took a sip. “I have to go.”

Papa had always held a blatant hatred for the cards. She suspected it went back to his years as a lieutenant of Sanctify—much like his outdated belief women couldn’t do everything men could. He may have lost his innate hatred for anything nonhuman, but he still couldn’t quite make himself believe. To Papa, the cards would always be superstitious nonsense, not the all-important guide they were to Diviners. It was yet another thing that always managed to come between them.

He growled and flipped the bacon. “He’s using you to get into the family business.”

“I know.” And she had no idea how the prince knew in the first place. It didn’t sit well with her, but Ophelia had to trust the Lady knew what She was doing. She took another sip and set her glass on the table. “He won’t get anything from me. If you think otherwise, then you don’t know me very well.”

“I know, baby girl.” Papa turned around, wielding two plates full of bacon and pancakes. He set them in front of her and Mama before retreating for the final one. “But I’m worried about what he’ll do when he finds out.” Papa exhaled loudly, dropping into his chair. “And I don’t know who we’re going to replace you with.”

Ophelia opened her mouth to suggest… Oh hells, she didn’t know, but he beat her to it.

“I suppose I’ll have to take over until I find someone.”

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click and Mama sighed. Ophelia knew very well how that conversation would go once she was out of the room. It wouldn’t be pretty. She thought fast, picking a name at random. “What about Cain?”

“He’s impulsive and abrasive. He’d be killed within a week.”

One could argue the same traits applied to her. She took a bite of bacon and chewed slowly, the meat tasting of ash on her tongue. The synth crap couldn’t compare to real meat, but right now she couldn’t even enjoy it. “You’ll find someone.”

He shrugged and began shoveling food into his mouth. Obviously there would be no more talking about it. She and Mama shared a significant look and began cleaning their own plates. For a time, there was only the sound of forks scraping against porcelain and the occasional slurp from either Ophelia or Papa.

This memory was what she’d wrap around herself to ward off homesickness when she was gone. Strength and love radiated from her parents as they gave their silent—and grudging, from Papa—support. Ophelia had never doubted they loved her, but in this moment she could almost see it.

It would have been the perfect moment if not for the fate hanging over her head, as inescapable as death.

Someone pounded on the front door, the sound booming through the house like the Reaper’s summons. Ophelia shivered and jumped out of her chair, moving as if in slow motion. The air had a weight to it, fighting her movements. Or maybe it was all in her head.

She threw open the door to reveal a man, his hand still raised from the beating he’d given the faded wood. Ophelia froze, her gaze traveling over weathered boots, pants stretched over large thighs, a shirt that did nothing to hide the muscles beneath, and the cache of weapons his jacket barely concealed. She stopped counting after three lasers and two blades. This man was trouble in the worst way.

He was also the same man whose room she left not an hour ago.

How had she thought him nothing special before? What a fool she was. While he still couldn’t be considered pretty, his icy gray eyes were extraordinary, so light they were nearly colorless. They pinned her in place, seeming to look inside her soul.

Ophelia had the sudden suspicion she was being judged…and found wanting.

Chapter Three

She damn near took Boone’s breath away, standing there with her pointed chin raised in defiance. It made him want to cross the distance between them and see if she tasted as good as she had last night. Which was insanity of the highest order, especially considering the conversation he’d just had with Kristian. That sadistic shit wanted his tithes early, had even gone so far as to suggest Jenny be the one to deliver them personally. As if he would ever allow that monster to get his filthy hands on her. Not while Boone still breathed.

The sound of a feminine throat being cleared—the mother—knocked him back to the present. He finally took in the other two people in the room and mentally cursed. The dainty woman wouldn’t be a problem, but no one in their right mind would mistake the giant for anything other than a threat. He towered over the two women, bulky without the fat so many men his age carted around. Gerard, her father. The man stepped forward, putting himself in front of his family. He was surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large. This must be where Ophelia learned how to move.

“Who are you?”

Boone didn’t bother to try for charming—this man would see right through the act. “I’m here for her.” He jerked his chin at Ophelia, amused when her violet eyes narrowed.

Gerard crossed his arms over his barrel chest, seeming to swell. “She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Boone thought over the information he’d gathered on the man before leaving his ship, analyzing the possible threat. Gerard was a former lieutenant of Sanctify, but he’d apparently gone rogue with one of their captives some twenty-odd years ago. Considering most of those idiots would rather die than betray their great cause, it was surprising. Even more surprising, though, was that he’d married the captive in question.

His gaze skated over the woman before coming back to the husband. Ophelia might have gotten her coloring from her father, but she got her looks from her mother. Still, there were plenty of beautiful humans to choose from without delving into the alien population, especially the cursed Diviners. Whatever Gerard’s reasoning for taking off, Sanctify’s training made him a threat. A massive one. Before Boone was forced to neutralize the man, Ophelia shouldered around him. “Papa.”

Gerard looked down, appearing to give her all his attention. Boone knew better. “Look at him, baby girl. What kind of man sends a damned mercenary to pick up his bride?”

Certainly not Kristian, but Boone wasn’t about to tell them so.

Then the big man’s word penetrated. Bride. Kristian was marrying her. Boone had the curious sensation of falling while still remaining on his feet. He felt his face settle into the familiar cold mask.

“Gerard.” The mother—Marianna—took one look at his expression and slipped under her husband’s arm. “We discussed this. This is the man she must go with.”

“You talked, woman. I never agreed to anything.” His voice was gruff, but Boone noted genuine affection. Given their history, it shouldn’t have surprised him. But it did.

Then again, aside from Jenny and her personal brand of crazy, Boone didn’t have much experience with loving families.

Marianna patted her husband’s chest and nodded at her daughter. “There’s a bag by the door with a few things you’ll need. Everything else will be provided for you.”

“So soon?” Ophelia looked shell-shocked, her violet eyes wide. “I just found out about this.”

“I know, daughter, but this is the Lady’s will.”

She sighed. While she hugged her parents, Boone half expected her to burst into tears or theatrics, but it was a relatively calm affair. Then she grabbed her bag and headed out the door.

He turned to follow her, but a large hand on his arm stopped him. Boone went still, waiting to see what Gerard would do. “Yes?”

“I know what you are, and I see the way you look at her. You touch my baby girl, I’ll skin you alive.” Knowing Sanctify’s practices, it wasn’t an idle threat. The big man grinned, sending Boone’s instincts on red alert. “That is, if there’s a big enough piece left when she gets done with you.”

Boone stared until Gerard nodded and let his hand drop. Marianna smiled as if they were discussing the weather. “We’ll be seeing you again, Boone.”

Had he told them his name? He didn’t think so. The small hairs on the nape of his neck rose, and he backed slowly out the door. Godsdamned Diviners. And there was one waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her boot tapping impatiently.

“Let’s go.” He started down the street without waiting to see if she’d follow. She would, or he’d go back and throw her over his shoulder. It would play hells with the plan to act like he was there on Kristian’s orders, but Boone couldn’t afford to leave her behind. Not after finding out she planned to accept the prince’s proposal.

With a muttered curse she jogged up until she was even with him, slipping on a pair of tinted red glasses. “Where are we going?”

He debated not answering, but couldn’t resist the temptation to keep her talking. “The private shipyards.”

“Of course we are.” Clenching her jaw so hard couldn’t be good for her teeth. Ophelia slanted a look at him and frowned. “I seem to have forgotten your name.”

Something like hurt snaked its way through him, quickly followed by an uglier emotion. How many men had she gone to bed with, not bothering to remember their names after the night was gone?

“Oh.” Boone made his voice flat and disinterested. He’d been using his old man’s tricks more and more lately. Someday he’d have to thank his father for forcing Boone to learn them in the first place. “How fortunate for me.”

He picked up his pace and, this time, she followed silently. The residential neighborhood evolved into the market district, delicious smells saturating the air despite the early hour. Here, more than Ophelia’s neighborhood, he saw the evidence of Sanctify, from the smattering of posters around the square to the huge vid of the High Priest giving a speech about some speciesist bullshit or another. Not only were there guards dressed in white set up at every entrance to the market, but there was a distinct lack of diversity in the marketgoers. There should have been blue, green, and yellow skins mixed with the spectrum of browns and pinks, should have been electronic sounds of translators interweaving with the voices raising in bargaining. Instead there were just humans, lots and lots of humans.

It was almost a relief when the market gave way to the huge factories where liquors were brewed from the hops found on-planet. Here there were less people, less of a reminder of humanity’s tendency to hate anything different from itself. He might detest Diviners, but Boone didn’t have a problem with aliens as a whole. Word was Sanctify had taken yet another planet this last month, one in the inner Third Quadrant. Boone wondered what Gerard thought about that.

The hangar was able to house four small ships or two large ones. The owner was a greedy man who didn’t ask questions as long as the price was right. Even between supporting his people and paying the hefty tithes to Kristian, Boone wasn’t a poor man. Turned out he had a real knack for smuggling, even with the occasional pro bono run.

He keyed the palm lock and waited while the metal doors slid open with an ear-splitting squeak. Ophelia came up behind him, so close he could feel the heat coming off her body. Or maybe that was his overactive imagination. It wasn’t a problem he usually had, but he’d been spending a lot of time with Jenny. Her insanity must be rubbing off on him.

“You have got to be joking.”

Boone bit back a laugh as they walked through the hangar to where Psyche waited. Ophelia must have been expecting one of the ships royals traveled on, equipped with everything from spas to entertainment rooms to gods knew what else. Compared to such ships, Jenny’s was miniscule. It had only one deck comprised of hub, crew rooms, and a common room, the rest of the space taken up by the engine. It was also one of the fastest ships in the universe, but no one could tell by looking at it.

Schooling his face, Boone spun around, forcing her to scramble back to avoid running into him. “Problem?”

“Yeah. This crap bucket doesn’t look like it will fly, let alone get to a Far Reach planet like Hansarda.”

Which was the point. “And?”

“And?” She sputtered and threw her hands in the air. “Lady, but I’ve been saddled with an idiot.”

“You really shouldn’t clench your jaw. It’s not good for your teeth.”

Boone had a hard time keeping a grin off his face when she gave a little shriek. He shouldn’t get so much pleasure from riling her up, but while they were arguing he had an excuse to watch her. Her violet eyes practically shot lasers at him, her face lighting up with anger.

Ophelia closed her eyes for a brief moment and, when she opened them, she looked almost calm. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

He fell into step behind her, taking the opportunity to appreciate how she filled out the basic black pants. They weren’t as tight as the ones from their night together, but some things couldn’t be hidden. Boone found himself speaking without intending to. “Tell me something.”

“What?”

The hatch slid open and a ladder descended as they reached the ship. “Do you generally sneak out like a thief the morning after you sleep with someone?”

She stumbled, but caught herself immediately. “Only the unmemorable ones.”

His vision bled red for one eternal second. Boone moved forward, getting a hand on either side of the ladder, bracketing her in. She froze, probably deciding which one of his knees she was going to break, and he took the opportunity to lean in until his lips brushed her ear. “And do you generally scream the unmemorable ones’ names while they’re making you come?”

Her entire body spasmed at his words. “Bastard.”

Some of his anger abated. Ophelia wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted him to believe. “Not according to my mother.” He dodged the elbow meant for his stomach and stepped back. “After you.”

She went up the ladder without a backward glance, but he knew he’d shaken her. Good. He didn’t want to be just another man to her. Funny how the thought of her with others made him want to paint the hangar with their blood. Or maybe not so funny. He’d been around her less than an hour this morning, and already she was getting to him.

It wasn’t a problem. Boone wouldn’t let it be. If all else failed, he could lock her in one of the rooms. When he got to the top of the ladder, he hit the switch to close the hatch.

“It’s roomier than I expected,” she said, looking around. Apparently they were going to ignore the sexual tension strumming between them in an almost-visible cord. “Where’s my room?”

“Down the right hallway. First cabin on your left.” He waited until she’d taken three steps to add, “Or the one at the end of the hall.” As soon as the words crossed his lips, he regretted them. Boone was here to get her away from Kristian, not to indulge himself. His night with Ophelia was the exception, not the rule.

It had to be.

Her back stiffened, but she didn’t stop, which was probably a good thing. They had to space as soon as possible and verbally sparring with her would delay that. As pleasurable as he found it, spending more time with her would have to wait. Boone took a slow breath and switched to work mode.

He found Gee in the hub, halfway under one of the seats and muttering in the Evarven’s native tongue. Boone kicked the seat next to him, earning a new spat of curses. “We need to go.”

Gee slid out and leveled an orange gaze at him. “I’ve been ready for ages. You’re the one dawdling.”

“I’m ready now.”

“Damn well about time. You been dipping with the little miss again?” The Evarven held up his tiny hands when Boone moved to kick the seats again. How someone so small could be such a pain in the ass was beyond him. Gee grinned, revealing teeth that were slightly too pointed to pass for human. “Whatever. Not my business if you’re dipping—as long as you’re not going to get us killed because you’re thinking with the wee head.”

“If you don’t shut your mouth, Gee, I’ll be forced to kill you. Which would be a damn shame, since, for some reason, Jenny tolerates your wrinkled ass.”

Gee glared, the expression losing its potency because of the sparkle in his eyes. “That’s because she’s got a brain in her head and she’s a nice girl. Unlike you.”

“You’re right. I’m not a nice girl.” He slipped into the cockpit to the sound of the Evarven’s laughter. It was time to get the hells out of here.

Before Kristian figured out Boone was taking off with his bride.

[End of Excerpt]