Shielder — A new Science Fiction Romance (Book 1, Shielder Series) (36 page)

Astonished, she stared into the elder's
eyes, finding acceptance and approval there. "Thank you, sir."

He turned to Chase. "And you, Doctor. I
understand you formulated the antidote to the virus and got it
distributed to the Shielder colonies."

Chase smiled ruefully. "Again, I must
decline that honor. The lab on Santerra replicated the vaccine, and
your own Commander san Ranul here, along with Commander san
Travers, transported the medicine to runners. I only assisted with
the process."

"You did more than that," Jarek protested,
speaking for the first time. "You saved Nessa's life, and you
isolated the components of the virus. Santerra's technicians just
had to feed the information into their computers and compound the
calculated formula."

Chase shrugged, and Elder san Gabe slapped
him on the back. "It was a big assist, young man. We thank
you."

"I'm glad I could help." Chase turned to
Ranul. "Captain, we've brought more Orana vaccine and other medical
supplies. With your permission, I'd be happy to attend any
colonists who need medical treatment."

"Your offer is appreciated and
accepted."

Chase's hand on Nessa's back nudged her
forward. "Uh, Captain, we also brought some new computer equipment
and software. If it's all right, I'd like to install it while Chase
sees the colonists."

Surprise crossed Ranul's face. "I didn't
know you had knowledge of computers."

"Father," Jarek intervened. "Who do you
think patched our old system every time it went down? I allowed
Nessa access to the computer from the time of her injury. She's
become very proficient at programming."

"I'll vouch for that," Chase added, winking
at her.

Ranul’s gaze settled on her. "I can see
there are many things that slipped my notice over the seasons.
Again, my thanks, daughter. Your efforts are welcome."

His eyes reflected warmth. Nessa's heart
swelled, yet one more hurdle remained. She faced her mother.

"Meris."

"Daughter." Meris stared at her. "You're
looking well."

Daughter
. A word Nessa had dreamed of
hearing again these many seasons. Not in this tentative, groping
manner. In her dreams, it had been spoken loudly, with laughter and
tears and perhaps even touching. But this was a start, more than
she could realistically hope for.

"Mer—Mother," she stammered, saying that
word for the first time in seasons. She gestured to the children,
who had watched the proceedings with wide eyes. "These are my
adopted children. Brand, Raven, Celene, these are my parents,
Captain san Mars and Lady Meris. And this is Elder san Gabe."

"Hi," Raven said in a small voice.

Brand hid behind his lanrax. Celene smiled
shyly.

Meris studied them, unreadable emotions
flitting across her face. Finally, she leaned down. "What have you
got there? Looks like desert krats."

"Oh, no, Lady Meris," Raven protested.
"These are baby lanraxes."

"Lia's babies," Brand added. "She had
four."

Pride welled through Nessa. With lots of
love and encouragement, Brand was talking more and more. The little
boy proved to be a bright and apt student, as did both Celene and
Raven.

"Lanraxes?" Meris snorted. "Just more mouths
to feed."

"We don't have to feed them," Raven
explained. "Lia does that."

A small smile eased onto Meris' weathered
face. "Does she now? Well, you do remind me of another little girl
I knew once."

She patted all three children, then rose to
her regal height. She looked at Nessa, her expression steady,
accepting. "She grew into a fine young woman."

Overwhelmed, Nessa blinked back a rush of
tears. She groped blindly and found what she sought—the warm
strength of her mate's hand. Chase. Her rock, her anchor, her
husband, her love. He pulled her against him.

"Yes she did, didn't she?" he said
proudly.

Nessa looked up at Chase, then at the
children, who watched her with adoration in their eyes. She already
had everything she really needed. In time, the grudging acceptance
her people offered might grow into something more. She hoped it
would, but she no longer defined her existence by their favor.

Spirit had shown her true self-worth. It
resided in the love reflected back to her from Jarek, and from her
new family. Chase, Raven, Brand, Celene. They loved and needed her,
and she loved them.

She was whole in every way.

* * * * *

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Touched by
Darkness

Touched by
Fire

Touched by
Light

Shielder

Shadower

Shamara

Shadow
Crossing

Shadow
Fires

Street Corners and
Halos, Demon’s Delight Anthology

Book Two in the Shielder Series

Coming February 2014

Moriah wasted no time collecting her
opponents' money pouches and stuffing them into her cloak pocket.
The sooner out of this pit, the better. But as she turned to leave,
a feeling of being watched drew her attention toward the bar.

The black-clad man leaned nonchalantly
against the counter. His dark gaze locked with hers and an odd
fission of awareness sizzled between them. He raised his drink in a
mocking salute.

He was an arrogant, obnoxious man who
obviously expected every female to swoon at his feet. Not her. She
whirled and strode toward the exit. A loud bellow and a jerk on her
cloak brought her to a halt. She turned to face the Antek she'd
just defeated at Fool’s Quest.

His face and snout were blotched red from
too much liquor, and drool oozed from his mouth. "No female beats
me," he growled. "You cheat."

She tried unsuccessfully to yank her cloak
free. "Let me go."

He snarled, showing razor-sharp teeth. "You
cheat, female. Give back the money."

Moriah employed a quick hand chop to the
Antek's arm. She followed with a punch to his snout. Staggering
back, he smashed into a table. He slid to the floor, too drunk to
get up. The patrons cheered, hoping for more. No one could expect
help here, only bloodlust.

Disgusted, she headed for the exit. She'd
only gone a meter when a tentacle wrapped around her waist and spun
her around. She found herself face to chest with the seven-foot
Jaccian. "Lady, lady! Cheat, cheat!" he sing-songed.

Great, just great
.
Jaccians were even
stupider than Anteks. And tougher.

"Get your hands off me, alien!" Moriah
snarled, shoving hard against the creature's chest and kicking one
spindly leg from under it.

He crashed to his knees as she reached for
her gun. He snapped out a second tentacle to stop her, but her
weapon was already drawn. A volley of shots amputated the tentacles
in a spray of slime. She was free.

She spun away, but more tentacles wrapped
around her, squeezing tightly. Caught off guard, she dropped her
gun. How could the Jaccian have recovered so quickly? "No do that,"
sing-songed a different voice.

By the Abyss! Two of them! She could readily
handle one, but not two. She kicked and thrashed, battling for
breath as the tentacles tightened even more.

"Let me go!" she gasped, crunching her boot
heel into her assailant's shin. He jerked, his hold loosening. She
rammed her elbow into his abdomen. He squealed, and she slid free
of one tentacle.

The first Jaccian staggered to his feet,
waving his two remaining tentacles. He ripped off her cape. Moriah
landed a high kick on his midriff, and he stumbled back again.

"Need some help?"

She looked over to see the black-clad man
standing two meters away. While most of Giza's patrons were busy
betting on the outcome of the fight,
he
wanted to play hero.
She could just guess what he'd expect in payment.

"I already told you to stay away from me,"
she snarled, wrestling with a tentacle. "I can take care of
myself."

The first Jaccian approached again. The man
cocked his head. "Appears to me you're outnumbered."

She didn't need this distraction. Twisting
sideways, trying to free herself, she gasped, "I can…handle…this.
Go away."

"Think I'll hang around, just in case."

Obnoxious
and
obstinate. "If you
really want to help, get me my gun." Moriah heaved herself
backward, crashing the second Jaccian into a table. He grunted. She
jolted forward and then rammed him again.

One more time, and she'd be— The first
Jaccian lunged against her, pinning her between him and his cohort.
"Money and weapons good," he chanted, ripping at the seam of her
flightsuit. "Having woman good, too."

Black, insidious fear flooded through her,
robbing her of coherent thought. "Let me go!" she yelled,
frantically slugging at her assailant.

The Jaccian dug the jagged edge of his
tentacle into her shoulder. She felt blood welling. Another
tentacle wrapped around her breast and the familiar terror
threatened to overcome her. A scraping noise drew her back from the
edge of hysteria. Looking down, she saw her gun sliding toward her
feet.

Her gaze shot to the dark-haired man. Even
through the panicked, nightmarish haze, she noted the shift in his
bearing. His eyes glittered dangerously as his hands moved to rest
on his guns. "Let the lady go." Steel edged his voice.

The Jaccian in front of her let loose a
string of obscenities. "Female is mine," he insisted shrilly. "I
keep."

"Let her go.
Now."

"No!" the Jaccian screeched. "I mate with
her!"

"Final warning. Release her."

"You die!" shrilled the Jaccian, jerking her
toward him and drawing his weapon.

If he thought to use her body for a shield,
he was sadly mistaken. Moriah made herself go limp. Falling back
against the Jaccian behind her, she jerked the first one forward
against his partner. A quick grasp and squeeze of his testicles
finished the job. He screamed and let go of her. She dropped to the
floor and grabbed her gun.

Weapon fire filled the room. She managed to
shoot a tentacle and weapon from one Jaccian. Slime splattered the
top of her head. Before she could move, a heavy weight collapsed on
her, slamming her against the floor. More slime oozed over her face
and chest. She tried to claw her way free of the heavy Jaccians—or
what was left of them.

She heard a thud, and the suffocating weight
eased. Then the weight was gone completely, as a strong hand
clasped hers and pulled her to her feet. Chest heaving, legs
wobbling, Moriah stared at the carnage around her.

There was a fire near the end of the bar,
where a stray bullet had hit a fueled generator, and Thorne was
climbing over the bar with an extinguisher. Smoke clogged the room
and drifted around the black-clad man standing there. He had blood
on his upper arm, but it appeared to be a surface wound. He'd
survive.

He looked at her and shrugged. "Fortunately,
they had poor aim."

It galled her that she'd needed his help to
extricate herself. "If you're expecting some sort of reward, you
can forget it," she snapped. "In fact, you should be thanking
me.
They missed disintegrating you only because of my quick
action. Which, by the way, probably saved my life as well, since
you showed no reluctance about firing with me trapped between those
two cretins. You could have hit me!"

His eyes narrowing, he slid his guns back
into their holsters. "Maybe I should have. It would have simplified
things considerably." He probed his wounded arm and winced.

"I didn't ask you to get involved. All I
needed was my gun. I had the situation under control. You didn't
have to get hurt."

His eyes sparked with anger. "Oh, right. You
were only pinned between two seven-foot Jaccians, had three
tentacles wrapped around you, no weapons, and your clothing being
torn off. You didn't need any help. Pardon my interference, but I
love getting laser burns. I live for them."

Opening her mouth to retort, Moriah inhaled
smoke and went into a paroxysm of coughing. A wave of dizziness
washed over her. She grabbed a table for support.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yes," she choked out, just as her legs
buckled.

He caught her before she hit the ground, his
arms encircling her and pulling her flush against his hard body.
"Sure you are."

Alarm resurfaced, lending strength to her
legs. She'd sworn no man would ever hold her like this again. "I
told you I'm fine. Let go of me!" More coughing interrupted her
protest.