Angel, Dee, and Cat huddled together trying to stay out of everyone's way. "We need weapons," whispered Dee, "and someone to instruct us quickly. If we get separated, swear to me you will be armed." Cat gauged the seriousness of their situation by Dee's level of focus, which had streaked past the next reality somewhere.

"We swear," promised Cat and Angel in unison. "But let's solve that little problem by not getting separated to begin with," Angel proposed.

"We may not have a choice considering the circ.u.mstances," Cat replied. She couldn't have been more correct. A member of the crew took Angel to be evacuated; then someone came for Dee leaving Cat alone with Zorroc, feeling frightened and unsure. Gattonians poured out of the control room like cats escaping a monsoon. Zorroc, cool under fire, calmly issued orders and tracked the progress of the evacuation teams, memorizing each location of the evacuees. Sycor entered and motioned that it was time for their departure, the ship was losing ground quickly. The three descended to the trans-pad where about ten women waited. She recognized Bandoff, as he attempted to calm the confused and frightened women. Sycor pushed a sequence of b.u.t.tons on his wristband and they exited the failing vessel.

The planet, red, barren, and hot, had breathable air but no breeze, and no movement of any kind, not a bird, a tree, a cloud, nothing. She felt like she had just fallen into a surreal photograph. Sycor and Bandoff along with three other crewmembers completed their party; the women looking disoriented and worse for wear. She recognized one in particular, the one who had crawled all over Zorroc at the conference, the one they'd had the argument over. Terrific! She'd already begun devouring him with her eyes, smoothing her hair and licking her lips. Out of seventy-three women, why her?

She stood about the same height as Dee, Cat observed objectively, but while Dee was all curves, Sandra had a body more similar to Angels. She had her hair dyed a garish platinum blond and wore too much make-up, which had smeared, in proportion to her ordeal. Couldn't have happened to a nicer sleezette.

Had Zorroc chosen Sandra to accompany their party? He'd seemed very interested at the conference and had clearly changed his mind about joining with her, he'd fled their chamber with lightening quick finality. Maybe he'd chosen the loose shrew instead. Gee, newly awakened Sleeping Beauty stranded on a strange planet with her very own combination of Hans Solo and Chewbacca; what a perfect set up, and with the way she drooled over him, she wouldn't be hard to get either. Fine, she told herself, Sycor would suit her purposes just as well. He was cute, a bodyguard, and someone who could secure a weapon for her and teach her how to use it. Screw Zorroc, she sure would not get the opportunity. She walked away and ignored him while they set up camp.

She spent the following hours worrying about Dee and Angel and where they had landed; she hoped it turned out better than this place because aside from the oxygen, it resembled h.e.l.l, literally. With thoughts of her promise to Dee ricocheting through her brain, she approached Sycor. "Can I help you with anything, Sycor? I'm sure I could be useful." She never had learned how to flirt. Sycor looked unsure but not opposed to her advance.

"Everything is under control, Catarina, you should try to rest. The shelter over there is for your use, it will offer some relief from this heat," he finished kindly.

She really did like him.

Zorroc wondered at his intended's mood as he worked to set up camp and appease the females. Sandra clung to him like a barnacle while he focused on Cat and Sycor with the same intensity that Sandra had fastened herself onto him.

"Sycor, I know you're busy just now but I have a favor to ask." She lowered her voice to a honey cream texture, Sycor's eyes widened. She moved closer and touched his arm. "I made a solemn vow to Dee that if we got separated, I'd be armed with a weapon and instructed on its usage. I've had extensive training with hand guns and lasers, so I'm sure I'd be a quick study."

The Gattonians seemed the type to be into vows. Certain she'd hit upon the right tact, she continued...only he looked slightly hunted. She took a step closer. "I'd hoped you could provide me with a weapon and instruct me," she finished, looking straight into his horrified eyes. As she registered his expression, she also noticed the air behind her had begun to churn. Sycor backed away mumbling about work and survival.

"May I be of a.s.sistance, Catarina," Zorroc challenged from behind her. He had telepathed Sycor's demise if he came within four feet of his mate again. Sycor had received the message. Zorroc further messaged to get that she tornika, Sandra, off his back, permanently, by whatever means necessary. Sycor scrambled to intercept the problem before it could approach the couple.

"Excuse me, I think your witch went that-a-way, I'm busy just now." She took two steps before Zorroc threw her over his shoulder and escorted her to their shelter. She parked her bony elbow in his back while the palm of her hand cradled her chin; she didn't bother to comment or struggle.

The shelters had taken on the colors of the landscape making them almost impossible to detect by an enemy. He lowered her to the ground mat and secured the shelter opening. Cat looked around and noticed it was really quite s.p.a.cious. Tall enough so Zorroc could stand up straight and move around, it resembled a large tee pee. It was also noticeably cooler within. How did they manage that, Cat wondered idly while watching her cat man...put on another strip show? She couldn't take her eyes off him. His gaze bore into hers with concentrated thoroughness. Cat began to get nervous. "What are you doing Zorroc, practicing your technique for the wicked witch of the east?"

He stilled and tilted his head in the feline gesture native to his race then smiled and began to close in on her. "You are jealous, little Cat, it is unnecessary. The only interests I have are getting us safely to Gattonia and feasting on you. The feast will come first; you have run out of time to prepare. My aunts have a.s.sured me it is safe to take you and take you I will."

She realized with dawning clarity how perfectly his chiseled features matched his uncompromising manner, and with those twin axioms directed unflinchingly in her direction, she felt her will crumble under the force of his. He wanted her, he'd said; well, he could have what he wanted, but first she needed answers and a.s.surance.

"We have issues to resolve Zorroc; for instance, how are you going to conduct your Dr. Jeckel/Mr. Hyde experiments now that your female rats are awake, or will it matter?" she accused, her gaze tracing over every inch of him. It proved almost impossible to concentrate with his scent and form sending her into sensory paradise. However, responsibility for the women rested solely with her and she wouldn't let them be further jeopardized-h.e.l.l, they might not survive their current situation, come to think of it. Who attacked them, anyway? She just had too many questions and concerns with no definitive answers.

He read her guilt and distress concerning the women. Cat took too much responsibility for things completely beyond her control; he would ease her mind first and then her body. "There will be no experiments on the females; the serum perished with the ship. I doubt we would have tried it in any case; we were uncomfortable with that option. We will, therefore, implement our second plan. I will answer the questions of your mind later, Catarina; right now I intend to address the ones your body has been asking of mine." Naked and hard, he advanced on her. He placed one hand on her upper thigh, fingers splayed, with his thumb grazing the place between her legs. His other worked her hair free of the pins that had been unsuccessfully securing her unruly mane.

"You tried to answer those questions once before but got cold feet and ran away. Why do you think this time will be different?" she breathlessly inquired as he began to undress her. He moved faster this time as if he couldn't wait to get at her. He was so large. Would she be able to take him, she wondered, staring blatantly at his erection.

"Your body will be well prepared, my cream, you can be certain of that. You can and will take all of me," he promised as he feasted his eyes on her perfectly compact figure.

"Were you reading my mind or was the question in my eyes?" she asked as he peeled her boots, socks, and jeans from her.

"Yes." He smirked with secret satisfaction as he slowly eased her panties down, devouring her with a look. As he lifted her top over her head, her hair flew in all directions. She looked like a miniature Valkyrie, fierce and feminine; she wore no bra. He had been focused on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s the entire day, wondering at the natural flow of their movement and their occasional budded peaks. When he laid her down, her hair flared around her in disarray, her skin glistened, creamy and warm to his touch, and her emerald eyes glowed with curiosity and antic.i.p.ation-she wanted him. He spoke softly to her as he explained what would occur and what he would do to her. "In our previous lessons I touched you with my hands and you touched me with yours; now I will follow my hands with my mouth. You will be pleased."

He proceeded to demonstrate. His hands gently stroked her neck while his mouth seduced hers demanding entrance. How could a kiss be overpowering and entreating at the same time? She felt weightless and defenseless, willing to let him do anything to relieve the pressure building inside her. When she opened for him, his tongue began to plunge into her mouth showing her his internal rhythm. His hands moved to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s that were large in proportion to rest of her body.

He ma.s.saged her globes then worked her nipples until they drew up into hard rosy buds he could not wait to taste. She groaned deep in her throat as he replaced a hand with his mouth, suckling and licking until she writhed helplessly. He told himself to proceed slowly; he wanted to make sure she stayed with him for every step of this dance. Leaving his hands on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s he began kissing and nipping her ribs and stomach slowly working toward her abdomen giving special attention to her belly b.u.t.ton. Cat headed toward sensual overload; Zorroc read in her fevered mind.

"Not this time, Catarina, you will stay with me, do you understand?" When he mindspoke to her, she stilled. That cooled her off a little, Zorroc smiled to himself; let her concentrate on that for a while as he prepared her body for the taking. He moved slowly down her body while issuing instructions. "Bend your knees and spread your legs far apart, I am going to taste you, my cream." He put a pillow under her hips and spread her legs even further.

"Zorroc, please, I don't know what to do," she panted, wetting her lips in an unconscious gesture of pure sin.

She had a sheen of sweat coating every part of her. He nudged her nether lips apart exposing the nub nestled there and looked his fill, then his eyes raised and locked with hers. "Do not worry, it will come to you. Now I will pleasure us both." He put his mouth onto the entrance of her. His tongue licked her inside and out, feasting and sucking. She tasted like ambrosia and he was instantly addicted. Cat began to hitch and shake uncontrollably, grabbing onto the mat for stability. Then he began to purr into her, his tongue plunging rhythmically until she bucked straight up and emitted a long keening moan. Zorroc didn't halt his a.s.sault as she climaxed into his mouth. He lapped and drank as she continued to convulse.

It was too much; he had lost her again. It was better this way, he decided as he rose up and prepared to enter her, maybe she would not feel the pain of her hymen being perforated on his claiming. Above all things, he wanted her to never know pain from him. He plunged into her with one sure thrust; his mind reading hers to discern her level of discomfort but it continued in its foggy state. Waiting for her to come back to him before proceeding approached torture but he willed himself still. Filling and stretching her until he imagined his c.o.c.k b.u.t.ting her womb, she cradled him in hot, wet euphoria. Sweat broke out on his brow; with all of his training and experience in the ways of pleasure; she made him feel like an untried youth. He nestled the pulse point on the side of her neck and she sighed. She reached to entwine her fingers with the hair on the back of his scalp and then closed her small hand into a tight fist trapping him for her kiss. Her other hand began a slow exploration of his shoulders, arm and back, reveling in the power of his body, compounded by his powerful reaction to her touch. She took the lead and began kissing, licking, and nipping him first on his lips then his cheeks, neck, and earlobe. Inwardly he groaned. He needed to take control or the deed would be finished before it had begun. He began to move.

"Is this uncomfortable for you?" he growled roughly, his control waning dangerously.

"Umm, more." Her reply unleashed the last bonds of his restraint. He began pumping faster and harder until he roared with the rightness of it. His self-control in shreds, he pummeled into her until her moans cascaded to a scream. He felt her convulsions milking him firmly and he followed her, putting his mouth onto the sensitive cord at the base of her neck and biting hard then licking the area to begin the healing process. She did not utter a peep; clearly out again. They would have to practice long and hard to keep her with him after her climax; he smiled and enfolded her firmly in antic.i.p.ation. She belonged to him.

He rolled onto his back then drew her on top of him; a common Gattonian gesture of possession meant to provide comfort and warmth to their mate; they slept. Later that night he took her again impaling her thoroughly, branding her, once again, as his. Afterward, he fell into a deep contented sleep.

Cat remained awake and restless after their last bout of lovemaking. Her neck, while tender, proved nothing compared to the confusion she felt. She still hadn't gotten any answers on the fate planned for the women, or even her for that matter. She had many issues to address with Zorroc, but every time she got within four feet of him, everything whizzed out of her head like ants fleeing insecticide.

She slid into her environ suit and exited their tent to take a quiet walk into the red desert. The horizon glowed like a built in night-light and it had cooled down to a comfortable tepidity. Cat far preferred this planet after dark she decided. She found a boulder and climbed onto it tracking the swirling sky...and finally relaxed. Zorroc had promised to answer her questions; she'd just have to keep her hands off him long enough to ask. She glanced down catching a movement out of the corner of her eye and froze. She didn't think anything alive existed here, what were they? They looked like a combination of a slug and a snake. Fat, slimy, and over ten feet long, they quickly multiplied, surrounding her-trapping her. Oh G.o.d, she was slug meat. No one remained awake to help her and if she screamed it might be over before she could shout 'Slime me'.

She became more frightened by the second, and silently told Zorroc she loved him and apologized for leaving him this way. Everything crystallized in that moment; she loved him and wanted to have a real marriage complete with devotion, love, trust, l.u.s.t, friendship, and even children. The giant slugs were closing in for the kill. She closed her eyes.

"Sycor, Bandoff! Weapons now, Cat is in trouble." Zorroc had never known greater fear. Cat's abject terror had become his own; she would die if they could not reach her in time. Her horror fueled his own as he charged out of the tent and ran into the night. He located her almost immediately; she had not wandered far, but syphors surrounded her. Reliably, the deadliest scavengers in the universe; they ate anything alive. Varying atmospheres did not affect them so they could survive anywhere. All ships now had syphor detectors to prevent infestation to other planets when it was discovered that was how they had spread.

"Never have I seen so many Syphors, Zorroc, what do you propose, whatever it is it had best be fast, they are ready to attack," Sycor mind-thought to Zorroc. "One would be enough to kill her," he added unnecessarily; they all knew the situation. The giant parasites had not sensed the Gattonians; too focused on their prey and unintelligent to sense danger.

"We will form a triangle around her and create a force field of protection then eliminate the slugs; watch your backs for more of them."

Before Zorroc had completed his orders, they moved into position and mind-merged a force field around Cat. Zorroc mind-thought to her that she was protected and safe but not to make any sudden moves, they were preparing to kill the Syphors and did not want her in the way. Cat focused on him as if it would be her last glimpse and silently nodded. The Syphors attacked en ma.s.se but could not break through the barrier. It did not take long to zap the slugs and when they finished, Bandoff messaged to the other two that this would keep them in fresh meat for weeks. Sycor yipped aloud while Zorroc mind-thought disgust as he moved in to s.n.a.t.c.h Cat from the boulder and sprint toward their tent.

Chapter Eight.

"There he goes again, prowling the perimeter of the camp. Probably an excuse to get away from me," Dee uttered to herself, as she watched another couple enter a tent to copulate, no doubt.

They should've been called bunnies instead of Gattonians. They'd been stranded for two days, so far, and the place resembled a high tech Indian village. Most of the women had been delivered here along with the Gattonian crew. They camped by a large lake surrounded by mountains. It was quite beautiful, abounding with lush vegetation, fresh water, and clean air. She felt like a transplant into the Garden of Eden.

Teepees littered the entire area including a cooking station, med-facility and a group of five tents that acted as small procreation palaces for anyone who wanted to partake. Anyone except for her, of course. The women were acclimating extremely well to their situation; the Gattonians, tall, muscular, and hypnotically s.e.xual, were very hard to resist. Some partnered with a particular male while others seemed to want to sample them all, and what a selection to choose from, not that she had been invited. The males treated her like the plague. She shared a tent with Prolinc; their mats separated by at least six feet. He hadn't come near her and she questioned her desirability and non-existent appeal. To top it all, her highly arousing dreams blossomed steadily out of control until the line between fantasy and reality bled into another realm altogether. Every night he came to her in her sleep with his deep rusty mane and mossy green eyes, feasting on her with fervent abandon. Every morning she woke up soaked between her legs, alone.

Dee wondered why they even shared a tent; he obviously had zero interest in her. He'd probably been ordered to watch over her by Zorroc or more likely, Cat. The poor, hunky protector could have had any woman in the camp, but instead, ended up stuck with her. She hadn't seen him near the palaces yet, but supposed it was only a matter of time before he joined the legions of his fellow males.

She wandered down to the lake, to the cordoned off section reserved for the women. A cold bath was just what she needed most. She grabbed her soap, a change of clothes, and what pa.s.sed for a towel. Although tiny, the five-inch square cloth dried her completely. She found the area deserted, for once, and looked forward to a long, cool soak. The women had each been provided with two garments. They were one piece and resembled a cat suit that opened from the top; the Gattonians called them Environ-suits. The special material adjusted to varying temperatures and conditions similar to the tents and took on the colors of the immediate area; blending in with chameleon like success. Matching Environ-boots completed the ensemble. Their culture did not approve of the physical restrictions caused by underwear. Every tent had what Dee thought of as a private dry cleaner-they really knew how to rough it.

She concentrated on the beauty of her surroundings as she stripped and sank into the soft cool water. Long reeds framed this section of the lake with occasional white fairy blossoms that dotted the waters edge. The water sparkled a delightful golden shade clear to the bottom, showcasing a myriad of plants and sea life. At first, she just swam and then floated, enjoying the flow of motion over her body. After about ten minutes, she made her way to the sh.o.r.e, retrieved her soap, and began to loosen her braids. They fell in sunlit-ribbons down to her waist. It made up her one true vanity. Though much more practical in a shorter style, she couldn't make herself lop it off, so she kept it up and out of the way. It made her think of Cat and Angel, they had made a pact as children to keep their hair long, and, so far, they all had. She hoped they would be together again soon, she felt stranded in this sea of strangers.

Prolinc had never seen her hair down, and the sight of her naked body with all of that hair caressing it proved impossibly erotic and, as a Gattonian, he was an expert on erotic. He smirked, watching her touch herself as she washed her hair, neck, b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and between her legs, to which she gave special attention. He had been mesmerizing her for the past two nights and making love to her in every way imaginable until the early morning. In trance, she had been responsive but he wanted more from her, he wanted her to be alert when he next made love to her. He wanted her to know that it had all been real and that her body craved his just as his returned the favor. He made himself turn and leave so she could enjoy the remainder of her bath in privacy. His crew knew to avoid her; he had made his intentions very clear; she was his property.

One of the females glided toward him with purpose; Ava, he recalled vaguely. Though small in stature, she had a cap of raven black hair, blue eyes, and pert b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her eyes held unmistakable humor as if she laughed at the world as well as herself most of the time.

"Hiya big boy, are you ready to try me out?" She was one who preferred to pleasure many and not ashamed of her s.e.xuality. He liked her but she did not hold his desire.

"I would move on to more fertile ground," Prolinc responded with a rare grin. "I see Zanan by the mating tents looking for someone to spend his break with, he is a good male, Ava, and worthy of your time and attention." Still grinning, he headed toward the edge of the camp to check with the on-duty crew concerning disturbances signaling a possible attack from the Dargons or others.

Dee witnessed the exchange and the Cheshire grin Prolinc wore as they parted company-Ava toward the palaces to instigate a come-on to the Gattonian waiting there and Prolinc toward the perimeter of camp. Had they planned to meet later?

She'd made Angel and Cat promise to be armed; the time had come to follow her own advice. Maybe it would take her mind off s.e.x for a while. She approached Sark, a high-ranking guard, and excellent marksman. "Sark, I need your help, if you have a moment." She smiled as she moved closer. "I need a weapons lesson. I'm a former police officer and a detective and could be valuable if we run into trouble." And so far trouble followed these guys around like a friendly puppy, she added to herself. "I hoped you could demonstrate the use of your side arm and find one for me."

Sark looked astounded for a moment and then lost all expression, he wouldn't meet her eyes as he proclaimed, "Prolinc will instruct you should he deem it necessary." Then turned and stalked away.

Dee cursed a blue streak; incensed and confused. What was wrong with her? They treated her like day old vermin. She turned and b.u.mped smack into Prolinc. "Why did you approach Sark?" he inquired quietly, his grin conspicuously absent.

"I need a weapons lesson and since you refuse to get within six feet of me, I thought Sark would instruct me. Obviously, I miscalculated. What is it, have I contracted some dreaded disease? No one will have anything to do with me, including you," she challenged testily and stormed away before he could see her tears beginning to form. She entered their tent and collapsed onto her mat. What was happening, she hadn't cried since she turned eight.

"I will instruct you, Dee, you had but to ask." Having followed close on her heals, he now observed her curiously, tilting his head in a Gattonian way. What did she expect of him, he wondered fixedly. He had been working hard at developing a less volatile atmosphere between them. He needed to secure her trust and from there, her surrender but whenever he approached she threw up her shields. One moment she cast a wall of fire against him and the next a frigid gorge longer than the ice province of Arctica. He had yet to find a way around her barriers to her trust-center.

He had strategized that a combination of acquainting her body with his at night through trancing, coupled with a non-threatening distance between them during the day would draw her to him. Could he have miscalculated? As a supreme tactician, that did not seem likely. Her compliance to lay with him was essential to his plan of making her his chosen one. He wanted her to crave him like a drug, for the role of chosen one would be difficult for her to swallow with her overabundance of pride.

"Get a grip," Dee moaned as she rose wiping her eyes subtly and told him she would like a lesson at that time, if convenient for him. He gently took her hand and led her beyond the perimeter they had set up for camp and explained the use and inner workings of their firearms.

They worked from energy similar to earth's solar power. They never ran out of juice or charges as Prolinc explained. Light, smooth and exacting, Dee had no problem figuring distance and accuracy. Prolinc was amazed at her proficiency but did not tell her what a rare skill she had mastered in such a short time. She would put many of his crew to shame with her precision and reflexes. He had not realized what an aphrodisiac her skill and ease with his weapon would prove. He wanted to take her right there, in the meadow, well away from the camp. He began to advance. Dee noticed a decided change in the atmosphere and looked into Prolinc's eyes. His usually shuttered, unreadable gaze had changed to one of piercing hunger, directed unflinchingly at her; she licked her suddenly dry lips.

"Time to get back to camp, I suppose, we'll be missed before too long," she suggested uncertainly.

Since the very first, Dee had wanted nothing more than to wrap her small hands around his huge, corded neck and strangle the living daylights out of him, never had she felt such an overwhelming reaction to another human being. Now she saw her reaction for what it was; she wanted him worse than a starving man craved a Whopper. Maybe she could lure him to their tent, if the message in his flaming cat-eyes signaled what she hoped.

He smiled and shook his head slowly. He reached up and began dislodging her braids. After her hair hung completely free, he started on her pantsuit unfastening the top and slowly drawing it down over her body. He watched for signs of reluctance from her but all he saw was his own blatant hunger reflected back at him in her stormy sky gray eyes.

He smiled; she wanted him.

He had taken her repeatedly every night since they set up camp but it had been pitch dark in their tent; therefore, he had not seen her naked body until earlier at the lake. To see his dark hands cover her soft flesh and watch her body respond to his touch, boiled his blood to flashpoint. Every lush curve, mysterious hollow and graceful line proclaimed her a masterpiece; her scent made him harden instantly as his nostrils flared to take more of her essence. He stared markedly at her deep golden complexion, an ideal compliment to her cascading wheat colored hair...as she flushed a rosy hue from her chest up; he froze, mesmerized. He had embarra.s.sed her with his bold appraisal. He leered and continued devouring her in frank appreciation as he finished stripping her of her suit.

When she stood naked in front of him, he began to shed his own clothing. She swatted his hands away and took over. Her hands flowed over him in a smooth cadence of desire and need. The light caught her hair, setting it ablaze. His blaze. Her hands proceeded down his body, followed by her eyes until they found his erection. He bulged formatively, she knelt down so her mouth was parallel with his tool and took an experimental lick. He jerked at the contact and she moved in for more, he tasted positively delicious. She couldn't get her mouth around all of him so she licked, sucked and kissed, stroking him with one hand, holding him in place with the other at the base of one b.u.t.tock. Prolinc, equal parts enraptured and horrified, stood on the precipice of spewing right into her mouth; he tried halfheartedly to disengage her and then held her to him as he erupted violently into the strongest o.r.g.a.s.m he could recall.

Prolinc, who had always prided himself on his control, had used his intended chosen one as a common wh.o.r.e. He sunk to his knees in front of her, not sure of how to apologize for his disrespect and lack of reserve, but when he saw her licking her lips and caught the wicked gleam in her eyes, he attacked instead. She gave a surprised yelp as he knocked her back onto the soft fragrant ground and proceeded to torture her with his body, hands, lips, and teeth. He rubbed against her like a cat in heat while his hands fondled her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and mound, his talented fingers separating her and then playing on her nub and swollen l.a.b.i.a before teasing one finger and then two inside her. His mouth fused with hers and his tongue ma.s.saged hers in the tempo to come. Hard as granite once again, this time he would explode into a different orifice.

She grabbed his mane on either side of his head and feasted on him as eagerly as he covered her. She was more than ready, he gloated; it was time.

So focused on their love play, he at first thought the ringing in his ears signaled intense desire, but when the siren increased in volume, he jumped to his feet in one motion and grabbed his uniform. "We are under attack," he rasped, "hurry, and dress."

Dee stared at him, dumbfounded for a couple of seconds until her brain ignited; then she scrambled into her clothes and boots. "Trouble again," she commented to the breeze. "I want a weapon, Prolinc," she shouted after his retreating form.

She arrived at the camp greeted with barely constrained chaos. Scattering like mice, some ran toward the reeds by the lake while others headed toward the hills. The remainder ran h.e.l.l bent for a group of boulders about a hundred yards to the left of base camp. She felt like a deserted rat that had missed the last life raft and when she glanced up, she knew she'd pegged it right. Some sort of monster had her in its sights, barreling toward her too fast for her to react. At the last possible moment, it exploded, coating her with debris and liquid that smelled worse than anything in her experience. Next, she was tackled and thrown up over someone's shoulder that moved like lightening toward the boulders, when they reached cover; he placed her carefully on the ground. She landed flat on her back only to look up and focus on Prolinc's ferocious molten green orbs. She smiled wickedly, "Got a gun?"

Back in their mutely lit environ tent, Zorroc gently eased Cat onto his lap as he sunk into the long seat. He did not know who emerged more horrified of the two of them. She had come so close to dying his mind could not caption it. The Syphors first bite their prey injecting an agent to paralyze their muscles and nervous system; it works instantly but non-lethally. They preferred warm living organisms to dead meat allowing them plenty of time to suck and devour their quarry. Zorroc, locked within the terror of his imagination, did not hear Cat's query.

"Zorroc, you spoke to me inside my head, didn't you?" she repeated tentatively, trying to fight down her panic.

"Yes," he replied hoa.r.s.ely, striving to couch an answer in a manner that would not further traumatize her. "We call it mindspeaking, messaging or telepathing; our race has had the capability for centuries though some of our people are much stronger at it than others." He focused on her, knowing what her next question would be.

"If you can send me messages, can you also read the answer?" she inquired, beginning to understand the ramifications of what he was telling her. She scrutinized him closely as if seeing him for the first time. Had he read her mind from the very first? The thought dawned too demoralizing to contemplate. s.h.i.t and shinola, where was a good hole when you needed one?

"I can't read you all the time," he hedged. "You sent me a message while crouched on that rock and I received it; I knew you would die if I could not reach you. I mindspoke Sycor and Bandoff to a.s.sist me."

"We mind-melded a force field around you so the Syphors could not hurt you while we dealt with them. It is a fairly rare skill even for our race and those so gifted usually become protectors or bodyguards." Maybe that would take her mind off his ability to read her.

He would not get lucky, however, as she slid off his lap to face him. Her eyes began to glow. She smoldered, definitely on a precipice, and knew what lurked beyond. "Can the others read us too?"

The question caught him off guard and he started, "No, it is a Gattonian trait, we can only read and mindspeak to other Gattonians and none of my crew has the ability to read you, you have only exposed yourself to me." He winced slightly at his clumsy wording. He touched her mind which registered nothing but static, it was going to be a gusher.

She began to pace around the room her hands either clasped to her head or fisted at her sides. He had stilled. This made no sense Cat thought frantically. He could read her mind and send messages to her telepathically, the Gattonians could communicate with each other but not with the women and not with her. Zorroc could read her but not the other women-she was losing it. Was he lying? Could the Gattonians mind read everyone but didn't want to tell her for fear she'd be even more humiliated and incensed and possibly spread the word? She didn't think Zorroc had lied to her before, left pertinent information out, sure, but an outright lie? She didn't think so. So what did that leave? He could communicate with her telepathically and could read her mind sometimes; how much had he read, how much did he know about her? The air around her began to crackle. Could that be the reason he stayed two steps ahead of her and knew what she planned even before she did?

"You say it's strictly a Gattonian trait, but I'm only part Gattonian."

"More than half," he corrected.

She waved her hand through the air as if to brush away his distinction. "If everything you've told me is true, how is it you can read me? And why can't I do the same with you?" she interrogated, fists on hips, doing her best to ex-ray through to his brain to divine the truth or lie behind his words.

"That is a question I have no answer for. I am a strong telepath but not so strong as Prolinc, yet he cannot read you at all. There is a bond between us, my Cat, a truth you can no longer dispute."

She glared at him and demanded, "What am I thinking now!" You snoopy, officious, bossy, conceited, oaf -she faced him head-on.

He smiled at her and shrugged. "I do not have a clue. You are too upset for anything to come through."

He knew exactly what she was thinking and he sure did not have to mind-probe her to know it.

She pounded her dainty foot on the ground and presented him with her most effective drop-dead, cut him off at the knees, scowl. "I'm going to bed," she growled. "Alone!" The staccato screech loud enough to make him jump.

Cat marched to her mat, climbed in, and gave him one last dirty look, that dared him to approach her, before rolling over and playing dead. He thought that, in general, their talk had gone rather well; she would cool off and forgive him; he would leave her no alternative.

He turned to his mat thinking it had been a very long night. Sycor had reported that afternoon that a mother ship was in transit to their location and would COM them when they reached a good pivot point to the three planets. It could not be too soon for him, he would be better able to protect his mate on Ganz than on some red devil planet. There existed no end to the dangers Cat could find when left to her own devices. Maybe he would tether her to him while they slept to keep her from wandering into disaster, not that he would be sleeping any time soon; Zazu, she had scared fifteen years from his life when he had read her fear.

They entered the tent and surrounded her. She felt the first sting just below her ankle and felt it go numb, spreading up her leg to her stomach and beyond. They advanced, crawling on her, sliming her with their sticky coating as they commenced chewing on her legs and shoulder. They gnawed and sucked, eating her alive and she couldn't move, couldn't scream; couldn't even close her eyes. The one eating at her shoulder moved up to her face and after giving her what looked to be a malevolent smirk, closed in to start feeding on her face. Oh G.o.d, she could see the constantly moving suckers lining its mouth, moving onto her eye and- "Stop it Catarina, you are having a nightmare, wake up, wake up now," Zorroc shouted both aloud and into her mind.

She gasped for air and threw herself into Zorroc panting and drenched with sweat. She'd been so sure it was really happening. She looked around tentatively to rea.s.sure herself they were not there, frightened that maybe this was the dream and they were still devouring her.

"No, my one, you are with me and safe; be calm, when you become more alert you will see it was just a terrible dream. I would not let them have you, Cat. I came for you the first time and I will always come." He began stroking and kissing her as one would a frightened child. He lay with her on top of him and petted her back to sleep. For the flash of an instant, he thought they really had her. He closed his eyes trying to block the vision.

They remained entwined until late the next morning when word arrived of the attack on Zeba II, the planet that sheltered most of his crew and the women. Sycor stood over Zorroc with a frustrated, hopelessly vexed look on his face. He had been trying to shake him awake. Zorroc opened his eyes and mindspoke that he could have just messaged him; his physical presence was not required nor appreciated. Sycor messaged back that he had been doing just that for the past five minutes with no response. Zorroc grunted, eased off the mat naked and commenced dressing. Sycor noticed the bite on Cat's neck and smirked, all was going according to plan.

"Take your eyes off of her, Sycor." His head shot up briefly meeting Zorroc's deadly stare then exited mumbling that he would await him outside.

Sycor and Bandoff conversed together quietly as Zorroc approached. "What is the situation," he asked gruffly.