Fallen Star (10 page)

“One night in his bed and I’ll believe in
true love?” she scoffed. Tori’s attitude was so out of character,
it was starting to irritate Jillian. Tori had always been the
cautious, logical one, talking others out of rash decisions. “Maybe
I’ll sleep with him just to prove you wrong.”

Tori shook her head, her expression suddenly
serious. “Don’t even consider sleeping with him unless you’re ready
for a serious entanglement. Like I said, Ontarians don’t think
about sex the way humans do. They become possessive fast once
intimacies are exchanged.”

Tantalizing images teased Jillian’s memory
for just a moment before she forced them away. Odintar holding
himself above her as his tongue explored her mouth. The kiss had
been strategic, but she couldn’t seem to rid her mind of the
sensations, the heat. “Enough about sex.” She waved away the topic,
though the slow, simmering warmth lingered in her core. “Is Lor
staying with you or are you staying on his spaceship?”

Tori chuckled. “Give Odintar a couple more
days to bring you up to speed and then we’ll give you the grand
tour.”

She pushed her fingers through her hair,
brushing the wavy mass back from her face. “I can’t help noticing
that each woman they’ve ‘rescued’ so far has ended up with one of
the Mystics. Are you sure the Shadow Assassins are the only ones
hunting for mates?”

“It’s a valid point, but there’s one
significant difference. The Mystics might be taking advantage of an
unusual opportunity, but their women are willing. The Shadow
Assassins aren’t giving their victims a choice.”

They lapsed into silence as Jillian mulled
over her options. Unless she’d had some sort of psychotic break
from reality, this was really happening. The dangers she faced
might be beyond her control, but her responses to them weren’t.
She’d always been self-reliant and she didn’t intend to sacrifice
her independence now. If Odintar could make her strong and capable
of protecting herself, then she’d focus on the process with the
resolve and discipline that had driven her dance career.

Still, trust was hard. Especially when she
was feeling pressured to connect with a stranger. “How well do you
know him?”

“Odintar?”

“Yeah. Have you ‘seen beyond his shields’?”
Jillian softened her sarcastic tone with a smile.

“No, but he’s worked tirelessly and risked
his life over and over.” She glanced at the men and smiled, then
her gaze turned intense and compelling as she looked into Jillian’s
eyes. “He saved Angie’s life when no one else could have. He’s one
of the good guys, Jillian. I promise, you can trust him.”

Odintar could go without sleep for days at a
time as long as he replenished his energy in other ways. His visit
to the metaphysical plane had allowed him to feed, but his thoughts
were still scattered, his spirit unusually restless. After a quick
shower and shave, he changed his clothes and attempted to meditate.
Every time he cleared his mind images of Jillian crept in,
titillating images of her long legs and supple curves, her
expressive eyes and soft lips. He’d never struggled so hard to
suppress his lust for a female.

Unlike his Ontarian companions, he’d never
lacked for female companionship. But women had always been amusing
diversions from the things that were important in his life. His job
frequently required that he travel, which made long-term
relationships hard. So what was it about Jillian that made him want
to linger, to spend time with her in and out of the bedroom? Their
time together had only been interactive for less than a day, but
she’d dominated his thinking—and his fantasies—ever since he saw
her. He didn’t understand the impulses she drew to the surface.
Still, their connection was undeniable.

A ripple of emotion drew him toward her
bedroom door several hours after dawn. Fear, defused and distant,
had him reaching for the door handle. Then a conflicted jumble of
excitement, wonder and hope pushed through the anxiety. He heard
her stir so he renewed the constriction on his end of their link.
Until she knew he could sense her emotions, it was rude to intrude
on her privacy.

She’d been quiet and distracted after they
returned from her conversation with Tori. Knowing Jillian needed to
sort through her feelings and reconcile her new reality with the
one she’d been forced to leave behind, he’d allowed her reticence.
If her withdrawn mood continued, however, he’d have to find a way
to draw her out.

Caffeine wasn’t a stimulant to Rodytes, but
he’d learned to enjoy coffee’s taste. He went to the kitchen and
made a pot of the fragrant brew as he waited for Jillian to appear.
She took a shower and changed clothes before venturing out of her
bedroom. She’d chosen jeans and a clingy T-shirt that showcased her
trim torso and full, round breasts. The outfit wasn’t particularly
daring, but it sure as hell wasn’t helping his concentration.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as she joined
him in the sun-drenched kitchen.

“I did, but I still feel sort of weak and
shaky. Do I smell coffee?”

“You do.” He filled two mugs and handed her
one before crossing to the table. “And as for the weakness, it’s to
be expected. Your body is still healing.” They sat and he paused
for several sips before he went on. “If you want to wait until
you’re feeling stronger to explore your abilities, I’ll understand.
We’ve expected you to deal with an awful lot all at one time.”

“Other than not overwhelming me, are there
advantages to waiting?”

“It might help with the side effect of
processing so much energy.” She’d seemed troubled by her sexual
reaction, so he was purposefully vague.

She pushed back from the table and stood,
the mug still in her hand. “Are there eggs or something? I don’t
think a liquid breakfast is going to cut it for me this morning.”
Before he could answer she crossed to the refrigerator and opened
the door. Now that she had something to do, she became less
self-conscious. “You blast me with energy and I get turned on. You
said it wasn’t unusual.”

“Reacting to the excess energy is
inevitable. Having your body channel the overflow into a sexual
outlet is a bit more unique.” The distinction was counterproductive
to her calm, but he wanted to be completely honest.

“So I’m an oversexed freak?” She began
cracking eggs into a bowl, carefully keeping her face averted.

He moved to the counter and stood beside
her, yet she remained focused on her breakfast preparations.
“You’re not a freak.” He touched her shoulder and she paused but
still wouldn’t look at him. “We’re attracted to each other and the
energy amplified the attraction. That’s all there was to it.”

She finally glanced at him. “What if it
happens again?”

“That’s up to you. I’ll remain completely
professional.” He moved closer and felt the familiar sting of
transformation in his eyes. “Or I can help you through it.”

“Tori warned me about this.” She put the
eggs back in the carton and faced him. “If we end up in bed
together, you’ll consider it a marriage proposal.”

He stubbornly fought back a smile, knowing
it would rile her. “I think Tori’s forgetting a pivotal fact. I’m
not Ontarian.”

Her brows scrunched together and she tilted
her head a bit to the side. “Then what’s your connection to this
mission?”

“Finish your breakfast and I’ll explain.”
Few people knew his history. He wasn’t ashamed of his past. He just
didn’t see the value in dwelling on events that couldn’t be
changed. He needed Jillian to trust him and this seemed like a good
way to start building that trust. “Most people know my father is
Rodyte and most assume my mother was Ontarian.”

Jillian returned to her preparations as she
asked, “Why do people presume she was Ontarian?”

“Because I’m a Master-level Mage. It’s
highly unusual for the Conservatory to accept an outsider, much
less one with no Ontarian blood.”

“What’s the Conservatory?” She glanced at
him, eyes bright with curiosity.

“It’s the elite training facility for
Mystics on Ontariese.”

“You said ‘
the
elite training
facility’. Is there only one?”

He smiled. She didn’t miss much, but her
attention to details could be counterproductive when they had so
much to accomplish. “There are many training facilities, but only
at the Conservatory can one become a Master-level Mage. Still, it’s
not important to this story.”

“Sorry.” She returned his smile. “I’ll try
and hold my questions until the end.” She motioned toward the eggs.
“Do you want some?”

He shook his head. “I’ve already eaten.” It
wasn’t an outright lie. He just didn’t want the means by which he’d
replenished his energy to launch another tangent. “My mother was my
father’s captive for three years before she escaped. She knew I’d
be taken away from her as soon as I was weaned, so she started
planning for our escape as soon as she realized she was
pregnant.”

“He was a Shadow Assassin?”

“No. The Shadow Assassins were established
by a Rodyte named Vade. He built upon traditions that have been
observed by Rodyte warriors for centuries.”

“Is there a shortage of women on
Rodymia?”

“Not at all. It has to do with magic. The
war between Bilarri and Rodymia surrounds the ability to manipulate
magic. Basically—and this is extremely simplified—Bilarrians can do
magic and Rodytes can’t.”

“So Rodytes capture Bilarrian women hoping
their offspring will be able to do magic?”

Again he was impressed by her
perceptiveness. “Primarily. It’s also an act of rebellion. They
consider the captive females prisoners of war. In fact, they’re
called war brides.”

“Wow. That’s twisted, but I understand the
concept.”

“My mother barely escaped, but she expended
so much energy in doing so that she never recovered. She had
friends on Ontariese and they raised me as their own. My name was
changed and everyone was told that I was the orphan of an Ontarian
slave and a Rodyte warrior.”

She turned off the burner and carried her
plate of scrambled eggs to the table. He refilled their mugs then
joined her.

“It’s easy to understand why you’d be
interested in stopping the Shadow Assassins.” She paused for a
forkful of eggs. “Were you assigned to the team or did you
volunteer?”

“Lor asked if I was interested, so I guess I
volunteered. We’ve worked together many times in the past and my
connection to this mess is even more twisted than just my personal
history.”

“Really?” She waited for him to elaborate
and when he didn’t, she said, “You can’t just leave me hanging. How
are you connected to the Shadow Assassins?”

“I’m not. I’m connected to the women in the
notebook.”

She set down her fork and swallowed hard.
“Please tell me we’re not related.”

He chuckled, thrilled by the dread in her
eyes. “Not even remotely. I led the team that was sent to hunt down
the renegades.”

“Renegades? What renegades?”

He thought back on everything he’d told her
and realized they’d not discussed the Dirty Dozen. He sighed. Not
only was the topic distasteful, it also highlighted the biggest
failure of his career. “Ontarians have tried multiple strategies
for improving the ratio of men to women on their planet. Many
humans are genetically compatible with Ontarians. So about thirty
years ago, they worked with the US Government to recruit unattached
females who were willing to relocate to Ontariese.”

“Sort of like mail order brides?”

“I’m not familiar with that term.”

She shrugged. “What you described sounds
similar. Anyway, go on.”

He paused, trying to encapsulate the
information so they didn’t spend the next hour talking about the
unpleasant subject. “We’re not sure why, but twelve of the
participants in the program broke off and completely disregarded
the rules. They targeted college campuses and seduced countless
females. Rather than courting a potential life mate, they lured
them into bed, did their best to impregnate them, and then moved on
to their next conquest. They called themselves the Dirty
Dozen.”

“There are so many disgusting elements to
that story. I’m not sure what to say.”

“The Ontarians were equally disgusted. I led
a team that was tasked with finding the Dirty Dozen and returning
them to Ontariese to pay for their crimes. The mission didn’t go
well. It took much longer than it should have to complete and one
of my people was killed in an ambush I should have seen coming.
Their leader, the most ruthless of the lot, might have escaped. We
never found his body.”

“This was thirty years ago?”

“Just under.”

“You think these assholes are responsible
for all the women in the notebook?” Her revulsion was
understandable. The renegade’s behavior had been reprehensible.

“It’s likely.”

She stared into the distance, her gaze
troubled. “Tori’s the right age. Even Angie barely fits into the
criteria, but I’m only twenty-six. I couldn’t have been fathered by
one of the renegades.”

“You could have if the leader is still
alive.”

Pushing her plate away, she stood and
crossed to the coffee pot. Odintar spotted her mug still on the
table and brought it to her. “Thanks,” she muttered as she filled
the mug. “This is the gift that keeps on giving.”

“No more surprises.” He took the coffee pot
from her and returned it to the burner. “There are still countless
details you need to understand eventually, but you know the
important things now.”

She drank most of the coffee faster than
he’d thought possible then set the mug in the sink. “Let’s get
started. I want to know who I really am.”

“And I’m hoping to help you learn. But you
have to understand that it won’t happen instantaneously. Even if I
succeed in releasing your gift, or gifts, it could take you years
to explore their full potential.”