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"Cree, boon friend of my J'Bai!” she greeted him. “It is an honor to meet you!"

  Dorrie tried not to laugh at the grunt that escaped the Prime Reaper's lips as he was being mauled by the large woman.

  Sern could hear the gears grinding away in Cree's brain and was hard pressed not to laugh, as well. She had intercepted the wayward thought that he now had still another female for whom to be responsible and knew the Reaper was inwardly groaning.

  "It is an honor to meet you, too,” Cree managed to say before Zainabu released him.

  "I will protect you with my life, Reaper!” Zainabu swore.

  Kahmal had to look away, biting her lower lip to keep from bursting into laughter. She remembered all too well Cree's answer to Chanz’ pledge to protect his life with her own.

  "You find my vow humorous, Amazeen?” Zainabu demanded, starting toward Kahmal.

  "No!” Cree shouted. He put himself between the two women. “The Major is laughing at me."

  Zainabu stiffened. “She had best not laugh at you, Reaper!"

  "It was something I said awhile ago that she finds laughable,” Cree was quick to tell her. “It has nothing to do with you, milady."

  The black woman narrowed her eyes at Kahmal. “What was it he said that brought about such a reaction, Amazeen?"

  "A typical Cree-ism you will get to know well, Necromani. He had saved not only my life but the lives of two of my crew,” Kahmal replied.

  Zainabu nodded. “Attribution. I am familiar with such.” She glanced at Cree. “That he acted in such a way merely re-enforces my vow to keep him safe. Continue."

  Cree groaned and shook his head.

  "One of my women pledged her life to him, as well, and he acted like the spoiled little boy he can be by telling her he did not need that kind of pressure. He doesn't like to think he needs the protection of mere women such as us."

  "You are one more woman for him to feel responsible for,” Sern said.

  "I see,” Zainabu stated. She swept her gaze over the Reaper and settled on his bare feet. “Why does he not have proper boots?"

  "We like to keep our men barefoot and pregnant,” Dorrie quipped, ignoring Cree's warning growl.

  Zainabu's lips puckered. “I can see the wisdom in that,” she agreed, “but it isn't possible, is it?"

  "That's enough,” Cree said, aware that Prince Kamau was listening intently to the women's conversation.

  He turned to the Necromanian. “Your help is welcome and greatly appreciated, Prince Kamau. How will we be able to contact you when the time comes?"

  Taborn smiled. “We have stealth capabilities, such as no other world has developed, and secure channels. We will not be far away, Kamerone Cree. Zainabu will call us when we are needed.” He arched a thick black brow. “What size boot do you need, Reaper?"

  Zainabu sniffed, sniffed again, and then turned to look down at Ceatie. Her eyes lit up. “A were beast!” she said and rushed over to where the weretiger was sprawled out at Sern's feet. She went to her knees and buried her face in the old animal's fur. “I have not seen your like in years, Old One!"

  Ceatie began purring so loudly it was hard to hear Cree answering Taborn concerning his boot size. He licked the ebony face pressing close to his and made a mewling sound that bespoke of his contentment.

  "May I be a member of your pack, Old One?” Zainabu asked the weretiger.

  Sern exchanged a glance with the black woman and in the space of a few seconds it was obvious to every woman there the two would be good friends.

  The black boots materialized on the transport pad a few moments later and Cree swiped them up. He stalked off with them, muttering under his breath. He barely remembered to thank Taborn for the gift.

  "Zainabu!” Taborn called out and when the black woman stood up and faced him, hands on her ample hips, he shook a finger at her. “Do not cause the Reaper undue stress and do not try to run his life as you tried to run mine!"

  "Be gone with you, Kamau,” the Necromanian woman said. “We will call when we need you.” She dismissed him by turning her back and dropping down beside Ceatie once more.

  "May the Wind be always at your back, Major Kahmal,” Taborn said. “You will need it with Zainabu close at hand."

  With that said, the vid-com screen went black and in the twinkle of an eye, the four Necromanian dreadnaughts were gone.

  "Your prince is a member of the Windwarrior Society?” Kahmal asked.

  "A grand master, I believe, but I could not care less about such things,” Zainabu said with a sniff.

  "Where did they go?” Deon asked with awe. She was scanning the heavens but the dreadnoughts were nowhere on her scope.

  "They are out there, but I'll be damned if I can bring them up on the screen. There isn't even a blip,” Aegean said.

  "Our stealth capabilities are impenetrable,” Zainabu bragged as she got to her feet. She looked around.

  “Where is the Reaper?"

  "He went off to sulk,” Dorrie said, extending her hand. “I am Dorrie Burkhart, a Terran. I've known him longer than anyone else onboard so if you have questions, you can come to me."

  "Why does he go to sulk?” Zainabu wanted to know, taking the proffered hand in the warrior way—forearm to forearm.

  "He's a loner,” Sern spoke up. “He prefers to be by himself."

  "And he wants to try on his new boots,” Chanz said with a snort.

  Back in the lounge, Cree blocked out the feminine laughter that greeted Chanz's remark. He felt put upon and under even more pressure now that he had another female to try to keep from harm's way.

  Chapter Three

  Kahmal had been searching for over an hour before she finally tried the image deck where she found Cree. When she opened the door to the suite he had programmed, she was shocked to find it resembled what she knew to be a facsimile of Helios 12. The suite was sweltering, with no wind and no moisture at all in the hot stagnant air. Cree was stripped down to a pair of cut-off britches, his bare chest glistening with sweat, the crisp hairs there sparkling, as he went through the intricate motions of some kind of martial arts regimen. He had dispensed with his new boots and she could not help but wonder why he felt the need to torture his feet in such a manner for the sand of the suite undulated with heat.

  She didn't think he'd seen her yet for he appeared to be concentrating on each complex position that made his muscles bunch and ripple. Despite the suffocating heat bearing down on her, she stood there and watched him, mesmerized by the powerful play of his brawny body.

  "Would you like to spar with me?” he asked.

  "I'd like to throw you down and have at your tight ass,” Kahmal retorted, watching that area of his body flexing beneath the tight-fitting britches.

  Cree actually laughed, but he made no comment to her sexiest remark. He continued to move fluidly with the complicated maneuvers. His biceps bulged as he held one position for a few moments before allowing his body to relax. He released a long breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then came striding toward Kahmal, bending down to swoop up a towel to blot his perspiring face.

  The Amazeen Major could not take her eyes from his potent body. The man looked as though he had been molded by the Goddess of Love, Herself. There wasn't a spare ounce of fat on him and every move he made flowed like a well-oiled machine. Her gaze locked on the stylized crimson tattoo of a scythe on his left pectoral and held. She knew the tattoo had been applied to his flesh with a laser.

  "Aye, it did,” he said for she was wondering if it had hurt to have it burned into his flesh.

  "I'm surprised you admit it,” she said, tearing her gaze from the wicked brand. She wanted to reach out and trace the tattoo with the tips of her fingers. “How old were you when it was applied?"

  He shrugged. “Ten, I believe. I don't really remember. It was part of the Initiation into the Warrior Caste so at the time it was an honor to undergo the pain."

  "Did you weep?” she asked.

  His gaze locked with hers. “
What do you think?"

  "I cried when my breast was removed,” Kahmal admitted. “It hurt like hell."

  "The tattoo was not nearly as bad as the implants they placed in my brain,” Cree told her.

  "When did they surgically insert the micro-receivers?” she asked.

  "At about the same time. That played hell with my brain and caused brutal headaches that were incapacitating. The M-Rs did the same thing to my bloodcousins so our handlers didn't start inserting them in the next class of Reapers until the cadet had gone through puberty.” He ran a hand over his damp face. “That cut down on the severity of the headaches, but I'm told migraines still plagued the cadets.” He swiped the towel under his chin. “I still have the gods-be-damned things and always will."

  Kahmal shook her head. “I thought having my right teat cut off was bad, but it seems you had a much more severe launch into warrior status."

  He stared brazenly at her chest. “You'd never know you had only one breast,” he said.

  The Amazeen Major reached up to touch the area. “Prosthetic,” she explained. “Which is removed whenever we engage in combat. Not every Amazeen opts to have the removal of her teat. Only those who know they will be fighting."

  "Ah,” he said. “And you are a warrior before you are a woman.” He held his hand out for her to precede him from the image suite.

  She met his gaze. “For you, I would be entirely woman, Reaper."

  His only answer to her statement was a quickly passing smile. Both of them knew she'd never act on her bold declaration and he would never allow it if she did.

  Once outside where the cool air could wash over their bodies, Kahmal drew in a long breath. “Was there a reason you were punishing yourself in that hotbox?"

  Cree smiled. “It is a cleansing ritual,” he said. “I needed to clear my head."

  "From all the female influences in which you are drowning, Reaper?” she teased.

  "Too much estrogen blunts a warrior's savagery,” he replied with a snort.

  "Dorrie tells me there is going to be a problem with the Necromani when we arrive back on Terra,” she said, folding her arms. “How are you going to deal with that?"

  The Reaper's brow furrowed. “The hell if I know,” he said. “I'll have to leave that problem up to Taborn."

  "Dorrie says Dr. Dean won't be amendable to losing her mate."

  "No, she won't,” Cree agreed. “I wouldn't want to be in Taborn's boots.” There was something in the Major's gaze that sent a prickle of unease down the Reaper's spine. “You have other concerns, ‘Kadia?"

  Kahmal looked down at the floor. She didn't quite know how to broach the subject with him but she and the other women—including the new arrival—had discussed the situation and decided it needed to be brought out into the open. She looked at him.

  "As you mentioned to me before, many years of Terran time will have passed before we return,” she began. “How...?"

  "You believe my lady will have moved on,” he said quietly. “That she and Tylan Kahn will have become so close he will have taken her from me."

  "You have to consider it,” she said and watching as a bead of sweat rolled down his taut abdomen.

  "I consider it every moment of my existence. If such is the case, I will leave them to their new life,” he said but there was great sadness in his tone. “I only want what is best for Bridget and our son."

  She tilted her head to one side. “You won't fight for her?"

  "Bridget loves me,” he said. “I know that. She knows I love her. Tylan knows it just as I know he loves her. As time passes, they will believe me dead, executed at the hands of the Multitude. I cannot expect that she will live her life as a widow. I want her to be happy, to be at peace. He will see to her welfare."

  "You won't let her know you have returned?"

  "I will go to her. The choice will be hers to make,” he said.

  "But it will destroy you if she chooses Tylan Kahn,” Kahmal said gently.

  "Aye, it will, but if she does, then so be it. If she chooses to stay with him, I will leave and never bother her again."

  The Amazeen turned her face away. “If that happens, will you seek another mate?"

  "There can be no other mate for me, ‘Kadia,” he answered.

  Kahmal's eyes narrowed. “Would you at least consider allowing a woman to care for you?” She looked back at him. “To be there to hold your loneliness at bay?"

  "Are you volunteering for such an unrewarding assignment, Major?” he countered.

  She lifted her chin. “I am."

  He searched her thoughts and was stunned to find every woman on the ship—including the new arrival Zainabu—had offered to stay with him. He shook his head. “Such martyrdom is not necessary,” he grumbled. “I'm a big boy and perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

  "Dorrie says otherwise,” Kahmal stated. “She mentioned something about you not knowing how to properly drive a car."

  "Properly park a car,” he amended and shrugged. “I can drive one fairly well, but I will admit I have problems parking them. I could learn."

  "She also says you have problems dealing with the human population on Terra."

  Cree frowned. “Dorrie's going to have her shapely ass turned over my knee if she doesn't stop talking out of school,” he snapped.

  "She'd like that,” Kahmal said with a chuckle.

  He gave her a stern look. “Believe me when I tell you she would not.” He turned on his heel and started to stomp away.

  Kahmal hurried after him, matching his long, angry stride step for step. “Kamerone, we just..."

  "This conversation is at an end, Kahmal,” he said through clenched teeth. “We'll not discuss the matter again."

  She walked with him all the way to the sonic showers. He arched a brow at her when she would have stood where she was as his hands went to the waistband of his britches.

  She grinned and arched a brow, as well.

  A wicked gleam entered the Reaper's eye and he pushed the britches from his hips, giving her an unobstructed look at what Dorrie had speculated would be quite a package.

  Kahmal swept her eyes over his loins, gave them a long look, and then met his gaze. “Not bad, Reaper,” she said. “I could always use you on my breeding farm.” With that said, she left, casting him a saucy look over her shoulder.

  "Women,” he growled as he snatched open the door to one of the sonic showers and stepped inside.

  Kahmal was grinning so widely when she walked onto the bridge all the women stared at her. “Who,” the Major inquired, “gave our Reaper the cut-off britches?"

  Deon frowned. “I did. Why?"

  "Nice,” Kahmal said. “Damned nice.” She sat down in the command chair. “And by the way Dorrie, he fills them out better than any man I've ever seen."

  Dorrie nodded. “Told you, didn't I?"

  "Indeed you did and I got a good look at what those britches were hiding."

  "And?” Dorrie prompted, every woman awaiting the answer.

  Kahmal's lips quirked. “More than nice and, no, he isn't circumcised."

  Sern intercepted the furious growl from the shower and knew the Reaper was listening to their conversation. "Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves," she sent to him and had to shake her head at the enraged vulgarities that came flooding through her mind.

  * * * *

  After his shower, Cree went back to the quarters Kahmal had allotted him so he would have privacy from all the estrogen saturating the air. He had strolled down the corridor barefoot with the towel wrapped around his lean flanks just hoping one of the women would happen by. A perverse part of him had every intention of letting the towel fall just to see the female's reaction but none of them had been about. He was a tad disappointed and more than a little annoyed at himself that he was. Sighing, he punched in the access code to his quarters and went inside. The room was dark and cool—just the way he preferred it.

  "Lights up fifteen percent,”
he told the onboard computer and the room slowly illuminated.

  Absently reaching up to rub at the headache he felt coming on, he removed the towel and padded into the sleeping area, sliding himself belly down on the soft mattress. He lay that way for a moment until he realized the headache was only going to get worse so he turned over, reached up to drag a pillow under his head, and flung an arm over his eyes, bringing up one knee to relieve the workout pull on his aching stomach muscles.

  "Lights off."

  The chamber was plunged into unrelieved darkness though with his keen Reaper vision, had his eyes been open, he could have seen as clearly as though the lights had still been on.

  He lay trying to regulate his breathing and the god-awful agony that was now slicing through his temples.

  The increase in the severity, duration, and spacing of his migraines were beginning to worry him. It had started with the IH, the strong neuroinhibitor Hael Sejm had administered to him after his capture on Terra. A second dose along with having been deprived of oxygen for a good long while had set into motion a series of problems for him that had now resulted in his headaches being worse and coming more often than ever before. It was all he could do not to allow the women of the Alluvia to know just how horrific the headaches were.

  He groaned and raised his other knee. “Temperature twenty degrees lower,” he said for the cold seemed to help the debilitating pain lashing at his head.

  With his pain having increased to the point he was beginning to see the strange wriggling flashes of light at the periphery of his vision and the nausea slowly rising in his throat, he tried to lay perfectly still, attempting to force all thought from his mind for even that caused pain.

  For a moment he drifted off and, in that moment, memory leapt up to claim him.

  * * * *

  "Captain Cree?” Bridget asked, seeing the fixed stare leap back to life. “Are you with us, Captain Cree?" He had never seen such beautiful eyes in his life as the ones that were staring down at him with such compassion. They were the most delicate shade of green: pale and soothing. They looked at him with so much tenderness, such overwhelming sympathy he knew he could trust their owner.