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  Marco exhaled heavily, his eyes fluttering open, and found Thea staring at him. His heartbeat sped up—not just out of desire, but because she left him feeling horridly exposed. Found out. And yet she kept on staring at him wordlessly in the darkness, the only sound between them their own breathing. Moonlight spilled through the window beside the bed, playing across her features, and Marco glimpsed raw, unabashed desire reflected in her blue eyes. A throaty sigh escaped her lips as she licked them slowly—and that one gesture was his undoing.

  He bent closer to her, kissing her very tentatively, waiting for her to shove him away. Instead, her lips parted softly, and she returned the kiss with surprising passion. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tugging his head closer, welcoming him into her arms. So, he deepened the kiss roughly, and their tongues began to slowly entwine. It was the sweetest taste he’d ever known, and he closed his eyes, savoring it. He slipped his hands around her small waist, drawing her closer up against him as he took her mouth with another hungry kiss. Their tongues began an erotic dance, flicking together uncontrollably, and in response his whole body grew warmer as he felt some kind of unusual energy building inside himself.

  He’d never kissed a fellow Refarian before, only humans, and this was decidedly different. Thea was different, and she affected him unbelievably.

  He had to stop. Had to. They were fellow soldiers fighting in the same war; she was of a royal bloodline, and he . . . wasn’t. But instead, he deepened the kiss, brushing his fingers through her hair, wedging her more tightly against him. She pushed her small hips up against his, and he moaned softly at the intimate contact. There was no way she hadn’t felt his arousal—and his cheeks flushed deeply at the knowledge. He grasped her hips hard within his palms, fitting her against him, no longer caring what she felt. Hell, he wanted her to feel his erection, to know how turned on she’d made him. As her compact body fit snugly against his much larger one, she gasped, squirming against him in a sudden effort to pull away. But he kept her fixed against him with both hands, wanting her more than he had ever wanted anyone or anything in all his damnable life.

  ‘‘Marco,’’ she panted, clutching at him, even as she tried to get away. ‘‘We have to stop. We’ve got to.’’

  He groaned, burying his face against her neck. ‘‘I know. I know.’’ So much for his long-held virginity, he thought ruefully. This one woman could strip him of every illusion he’d fought so hard to maintain; his orderly life, his Madjin’s discipline. Never before had he realized how fragile and tentative his self-possession could truly be.

  Slowly, finger by finger, he eased his grip on her waist, gasping for every breath he drew into his lungs. ‘‘Bad idea, this,’’ he groaned, nuzzling her. ‘‘Terrible, awful, ill-thought-out plan.’’

  She rubbed her fingertips through the curling hair at the base of his neck. ‘‘Not really,’’ she whispered, then, laughing, added, ‘‘Well, at least we know those visions weren’t crazy. Not after this.’’

  He pulled back so he could stare into her blue, ethereal eyes. ‘‘I’ve never wanted anyone so damned bad in my life, Thea,’’ he told her frankly. ‘‘Visions or no, you turn me fucking on.’’

  She smiled, cupping his face. ‘‘Too bad you’re a monk.’’

  Drawing in ragged, panting breaths, he managed, ‘‘Already told you . . . I’m no saint, but you’re my protected.’’ He groaned, shaking his head. He had crossed the line in a way he’d never imagined—and on his first night coming under Jared Bennett’s leadership. What the hell had he been thinking? He closed his eyes, saying, ‘‘It’s an untenable situation. I want this—you, but I have a duty to perform.’’

  She released her hold on him, slowly sitting up in bed. ‘‘And so do I,’’ she agreed quietly. ‘‘We’ve got to work together in a few hours, so it’s best we put all of this’’— she waved her hand between them significantly—‘‘behind us from now on.’’

  ‘‘Absolutely. Agreed.’’ His voice sounded thick and emotion-filled, even to his own ears.

  She stood, smoothing out the front of her uniform, all soldier now—the passionate woman of a moment ago quickly vanishing beneath her facade of order and precision. ‘‘I look forward to it,’’ she told him with a brisk nod, and headed toward his bedroom door.

  Only after she was gone did he collapse onto his back with a groan of such pent-up need and frustration that he felt his body might explode. Holy hell, I’m the last Refarian virgin, he thought with a growl. It was a fact that had bothered him over the years, but it had always been a necessity. Suddenly his responsibilities and vows seemed an unbearable sacrifice—now that he knew what it might be to hold Thea Haven in his arms once and for all.

  Jared found Kelsey sound asleep, twined in his thick comforter and sheets. It was pushing five a.m., and on her body clock, still very early for a human. He dropped onto the side of their bed, watching her sleep. Many decisions had been made tonight; many revelations had occurred. Yet again, everything had changed for the two of them, just as it had changed for his people.

  Drowsily she stirred, eyeing him. ‘‘You’re back.’’ She rubbed her eyes.

  He bent to kiss her forehead. ‘‘Yes, love.’’

  ‘‘You’re not going to make me go back to Laramie now, are you?’’

  With a smile, he buried his face in her mass of curls. ‘‘No, sweet Kelsey—you aren’t going anywhere.’’

  ‘‘Good,’’ she said wickedly, wrapping her arms about him. He lay there, drinking her in, wishing that his body were still rocked with desperate tremors. Wishing that he didn’t possess such a strange, finicky bloodline that left him fertile for only a brief window of time.

  Kelsey ran her hands through his hair, stroking his upper back, kissing his bristling cheek. She thought he was still mad with mating fever, and he did desire her desperately, that was true. His heart and soul and being longed for her, but with the heavy revelations and burdens that had come, something had stilled inside of him tonight. He’d snapped back into his harsh reality, been reminded of what he’d always known: that leaders’ hearts came last in matters of love. The war and its concerns had to come first, even above family and mating and heirs. Jared closed his eyes, groaning softly in her arms at the excruciating realization of what had changed between them in just a few hours’ time. She giggled, lifting her hips against him, interpreting his groans as lusty need, but what Kelsey couldn’t possibly know—what he couldn’t possibly explain—was that already, somehow, the heat in his body had begun to cool.

  His first mating season was ending before it had even truly begun.

  Chapter Seven

  Marco mounted the interior steps to the Jackson apartment he’d shared with Sabrina and Riley for the past two years, in a three-story boardinghouse where anonymity reigned. It was the longest he’d ever lived in any one place after a near lifetime of nomadic movement. First from Refaria to Earth when he was eight years old, then zigzagging across the US for the past twenty years: Santa Fe, New Mexico, as a boy; Portland, Oregon, when he was twelve; Jacksonville, Florida, when he was nineteen; Moscow, Idaho, when he was twenty-one. It had been a roundabout, hardscrabble existence, and he could click off the towns like mile markers on a two-lane.

  Arriving on the narrow landing outside the apartment, Marco wrangled his keys, but Sabrina yanked open the door before he’d even turned the lock. Her eyes scanned the exterior hallway as she ushered him inside and closed the door behind him.

  ‘‘We gotta talk.’’ Marco pushed past her and into the living room.

  ‘‘Where have you been? Where’s Riley?’’ She followed behind him. ‘‘When you didn’t come home—’’

  ‘‘Riley’s fine, Sabrina.’’ Marco sank onto their thread-bare sofa, the single piece of furniture in the living room; like everything else in their lives, the furnishings in the apartment were minimal.

  She focused her intense gaze on him. ‘‘Then tell me what happened.’’

  ‘‘He’s w
ith our lord.’’ He drew in a breath, bracing for her reaction.

  She gave him a blank look for a moment, the facts clearly not computing. ‘‘He’s with Jared?’’ she finally whispered in disbelief.

  ‘‘We spent the night at the compound after a run-in with Thea Haven and Scott Dillon. They identified us at the bar last night.’’ He dug his hands into the pockets of his parka—the apartment was never warm enough. ‘‘Jared knows everything. Trust me, it was a long damn night.’’

  Sabrina stood in the center of the living room staring at him, blinking rapidly as she absorbed his revelations. She never aged or turned gray, relying instead on the shape-shifter’s prerogative—to maintain her youth. At the moment, however, her usually warm brown eyes were bloodshot and lined by dark circles, and she seemed much older than she normally did.

  ‘‘Does he know about me?’’ she asked in a quiet voice, unconsciously placing her hand over her heart. Jared meant everything to Sabrina, even after so many years apart from him—and that was on a personal level. He meant even more to her as the true Refarian king.

  He nodded. ‘‘He sent me for you. We’re both to head for camp right away. Riley stayed there’’—he laughed in realization—‘‘I suppose as collateral. But we’ll gain Jared’s trust soon enough.’’

  Her eyes drifted shut. ‘‘It’s too soon.’’ She shook her head, putting her back to him. ‘‘This is all wrong. The timing . . . all of it’s wrong.’’

  ‘‘You don’t think I’m ready.’’

  ‘‘How can you possibly be?’’

  ‘‘Isn’t a lifetime of training enough?’’ He sprang to his feet, following her across the room. ‘‘How long do you and the elders intend to hold me back? I am called to this—there’s nothing else I’m meant to do. I have given everything to the Circle! Everything, Sabrina. It’s time that you let me walk out my calling. I’m his protector-their protector—and I’m needed, now more than ever. You of all people understand that.’’

  She faced him again, staring hard into his eyes. ‘‘If it’s too soon,’’ she answered, running her hand down her neat braid, ‘‘it can only lead to destruction.’’

  ‘‘Is that my destruction or yours, Sabrina?’’

  ‘‘We have to follow the elders, and they’ve said to wait,’’ she reminded him sternly, walking toward the kitchen.

  ‘‘Thea and I have been talking about some things—important things—and I need to be there.’’ An unexpected fire fanned to life inside of his chest and abdomen, unsettling him completely. Just like he’d felt each time in Thea’s presence!

  She snapped her head toward him; if she’d been a horse, her ears would have tilted forward alertly. ‘‘Lieutenant Haven and you had time to talk about important matters? Already, in such a short period of time?’’

  His face burned self-consciously, and the fever in his belly nearly exploded at Sabrina’s mention of the woman. ‘‘I’m moving into their camp,’’ he told her boldly. ‘‘I’ve already made my decision.’’

  She busied herself with opening a cereal box, methodically measuring out enough for both of them. He braced his hands against the kitchen counter, saying: ‘‘They need training; they need to learn how to link intuitively for their protection. And for their true power. How can they learn if I’m all the way down here?’’

  ‘‘You want to be near her,’’ she said knowingly, opening the refrigerator.

  Without meaning to, he lifted a hand to his flushed face, a mixture of desire and embarrassment sending warmth to the very crown of his head. It was as if his entire body had reddened and caught fire with the mere utterance of Thea’s name! No woman had ever had this kind of effect on him, and he didn’t like losing his composure.

  ‘‘I do not want to be ‘near her,’” he barked. ‘‘This has nothing to do with anyone, except our commander and queen.’’

  ‘‘You’re not of the same class as Thea Haven. You’re Madjin and she’s D’Ashani—do you even recall what that means to our people? Or have you forgotten after so many years?’’

  ‘‘I haven’t forgotten that I’ve got a job to do—one I’d best be doing. You know what the commander asked me last night? He asked where we were when he was taken captive by Veckus. I gave an answer, but it wasn’t the right one. He’s been in this damn thing on his own for too long, I’m telling you.’’

  ‘‘We answer to the elders,’’ she reminded him softly.

  ‘‘They have an agenda, always have.’’

  ‘‘So you plan to go about this without their support? Without seeking their guidance?’’

  ‘‘I’ll do the job I was trained to do.’’

  ‘‘Well, then. Your mind is obviously made up.’’

  Kelsey sat with Jared in his upstairs study, a hard snow falling beyond the windows surrounding their tower turret. Holding her hand, he had led his wife up the stairs to the fourth floor of the cabin, feeling Marco’s letter practically burn a hole in his jacket pocket.

  Somehow Jared had known that the letter had to stay secret, even from those he trusted the most. Well, secret from everyone except Kelsey, which was why he’d shared it with her from the first. But now he had new revelations—that Marco McKinley, the letter’s author, was here in their camp. She sat with him before the fire, cross-legged, one hand knotting through her loose, riotously curling hair. Marco’s handwriting sample was spread open on her jean-clad knee.

  He needed her advice. He needed her wisdom. Most of all, he needed her to tell him that he hadn’t lost his mind, and that with all that had changed in the past ten days—their marriage, Marco, the letter—he was still the man she’d met all those years ago at Mirror Lake. He needed her assurance that reality still spun on its comfortable, axis.

  ‘‘Okay, so let me get this totally straight—from what you told me last night, you don’t know this guy?’’ she asked at last, glancing up from the paper. ‘‘Never even known his name? Nothing?’’

  ‘‘Until last night, I’d never heard of him, not from any quarter.’’

  ‘‘Then, I guess the biggest question is . . . do you believe him?’’

  ‘‘The letter chills me. It already did before the man’s arrival last night,’’ Jared told her, standing to pace about the room, unable to sit still. ‘‘Everything in me says the document is authentic. As for Marco himself . . . I believe him as well.’’

  ‘‘But the letter says he will come in two years—he came on the same day.’’

  ‘‘When they used the mitres, they must have altered things . . . the timeline.’’

  ‘‘You really do trust Marco?’’ she asked semi-incredulously. ‘‘And this letter?’’

  ‘‘He displayed irrefutable proof that he is a royal protector.’’

  ‘‘One of the’’—she paused, stumbling over the Refarian word—‘‘Madjeen.’’

  He smiled at her adorable accent. Somehow, strangely, Kelsey speaking Refarian was a massive turn-on. ‘‘He bears the mark of the Madjin, just as I bear my own royal seal. It’s not something that can be faked. He is authentic.’’

  She sighed, her auburn eyebrows furrowing deeply. ‘‘Why would he have planted a letter like this?’’

  Jared stopped his pacing, standing behind Kelsey. He placed his open palm atop her head; he needed their physical connection. ‘‘I do not believe that the Marco I met last night knows about this letter.’’

  ‘‘So you trust him?’’ she asked again, reaching for his hand. Their fingers threaded together.

  ‘‘You seem to find that surprising,’’ he observed softly.

  ‘‘Well, like I said last night, to believe the letter, you’d have to accept time travel and lots of other things that fly in the face of common sense,’’ she said with a glance over her shoulder at him.

  Jared cleared his throat, his now-familiar black eyes intense and serious. ‘‘Time travel is possible, Kelsey. Just not for your people, not yet.’’

  As much as it sounded like something righ
t out of science fiction, the Caltech guys, and then, later, other physicists, had all thought time travel possible for a while now. ‘‘Go on,’’ Kelsey said at last, swallowing hard.

  ‘‘The mitres technology—the data I left inside you—is the key. The mitres is a vast, powerful, monumental weapon. We’ve spent years trying to unlock the chambers and decipher the codes. Years trying to fully harness its power.’’

  ‘‘How do you know for sure that it works?’’ she asked, her mind racing with thoughts about the mysterious mitres and its data, the very technology that Jared had left in her mind the night of the crash.

  Jared grew quiet and thoughtful. ‘‘It was placed here in the early eighteen hundreds—Earth time. My ancestor, a young prince of the D’Aravni line, was the one who oversaw its installation. Earth was chosen for many reasons, Kelsey. Because your people and your atmosphere were genetically compatible with our own. Our genetic codes are 99% similar. Some even theorize that our two species emanate from the same genetic source, though nobody can be sure. Anyway, Earth was chosen for its safety, for its proximity to the wormholes that we navigate for our interstellar travel—and because your environment supported us easily. It was a match.’’

  Kelsey had a hard time digesting everything that Jared was rattling off. The mitres had been here for more than two hundred years, undetected by humans—the thought gave her an eerie shiver.

  ‘‘Where is the mitres?’’ she asked, a thought beginning to gain life in her mind.

  Her husband smiled at her, a sly, warm look in his eyes. ‘‘You won’t believe me if I tell you.’’

  ‘‘Oh, I probably will.’’ She laughed. Did Jared really believe she would doubt anything that came out of his mouth at this point? ‘‘Lay it on me.’’