StarlightComplete Read online

  The starlord’s chair, linked by neural circuits to the main frame, began to vibrate. Flickering green light pulsed over its length, while acrid smoke curled up from beneath the chair. Flesh was burning—starlord flesh she presumed.

  “Lizard boy’s gonna fry. Lizard boy’s gonna fry!” Andy chortled.

  If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Sam thought she might laugh. She spun the chair, thwarting Andy’s attempt to reach her. He leveled his gun, aiming for her chest.

  The door to the room slid open and before Sam could register who, a body streaked across, launching itself at Andy, grappling for the gun. A bolt discharged and the ceiling shattered, showering the room with metal debris. Another laser-beam melted the far wall, above the VDU.

  Harimal had his right hand around Andy’s throat, the left was clawing at the rifle. Both men were bleeding. They went down onto the floor in a tangle of limbs. Andy screamed and Harimal growled.

  As Sam went to race forward, the starlord’s talons bit into her wrist, dragging her to him.

  “Time to leave, damiselle.” The chair powered across the room, heading for the booth. Sam resisted, the starlord’s claws scratching deep, grinding against bone. Between the grip of the starlord and the power of its chair, she could not hope to win.

  There had never been much hope, but she would survive, just long enough to take out the starlord. Ensure Hari was freed.

  Vincero! The word echoed and re-echoed in her mind. The song to overcome enemies. The promise to survive.

  As the chair reached the opening to the booth, Sam dropped to her knees, dragging the starlord out of its machine. Electrodes extruded from his flesh and green blood bubbled from gaping wounds where other wires had ripped free.

  The starlord screamed—for once in agony, not from pleasure.

  Free of the monster’s grip, Sam raced forward tackling Andy from behind.

  She tore the gun from his grasp and put the muzzle to his temple. “I’ll fry your feegling brains.”

  “Honey-cat!” Harimal’s voice purred.

  “I want him dead, Hari.” Her eyes stung with tears.

  “Yes, but it is not your right.”

  “I have every right. He killed John. I promised myself… Hari! I promised!”

  “This human will stand trial for his crimes. On Chizan. He will die, but not by my hand, or yours. Give me the gun, kitten-mine.” He held out his hand.

  Sam hesitated and in that instant Andy broke away from Hari’s hold. He grabbed the gun and spun around, firing. Hari leapt against him and Andy screamed. In the struggle the rifle twisted around and the particle-beam swept over Andy’s body. Hari reeled back as Andy’s flesh was seared by the laser.

  Sam choked at the smell of burning flesh. Talons dug into her arms.

  “One down, one to go!” the starlord said against her ear.

  She twisted around to face him. He was laughing at her, standing upright, not the crippled monster it had once been. Two and a half meters tall and still butt ugly, and more terrifying than any dreamscape replica. Electrodes dangled from its flesh and he began to pluck at the wires on his lower torso, laughing.

  “Never underestimate me, human-mine. I thought it would be interesting to allow you to believe I was an invalid in a chair.”

  “But why…I don’t understand.”

  “All in good time. With me, you will have plenty of time.” The starlord aimed its gun at Hari. “I no longer need you kitty-cat.”

  Sam launched herself at the monster, her nails, like talons piercing its hide. She clung to him and pushed her knee into his groin.

  The monster groaned, but its hold did not lessen. They fought for possession of the gun, but all the while the starlord was dragging her back towards the booth.

  Outside in the corridor she heard screams and shouts, and the ping of laser bolts. Then running feet across metal.

  The door to the starlord’s control room shuddered as something outside smashed against it.

  “It will take them minutes to break in. Ah…” The starlord sniffed. “Photonics to melt the door. How quaint. But by the time they are through, we shall be gone.”

  “In your dreams, monster!” Sam clawed the starlord’s face, taking out an electrode beneath its eye. Unlike the time when he had laughed, removing some of the wires himself, the purging of this neural-wire made him scream.

  He swept a talon over her hand slicing open her skin, to the bone, as she reached for another electrode. Dimly, Sam registered the pain, but it didn’t matter.

  The starlord tugged and Sam gripped the booth frame, her hands slipping as the monster pitted all its strength against her.

  Harimal raced across the room and knocked Sam aside. The starlord’s gun went off, taking out more equipment. Hari and the monster fell into the booth, fighting, gouging; fighting to kill, fighting to live.

  Sam ran forward, dragging at the gun, tearing it from the starlord. Its talons curled around the trigger and light exploded in the booth.

  Harimal and the starlord were locked in a death struggle as brilliant light encased them.

  “No…” the starlord wailed. “I’m not ready. Noooooooo…”

  “Wait!” Andy screamed, hurling himself at the booth, grabbing at Sam. The momentum slammed them against the side of the booth.

  Light coruscated around the room.

  “It’s mine, it’s mine,” Andy screamed. “The transporter is mine. C’mon, wife, we’ve only got seconds until this place goes up.”

  Sam reeled away from the transporter booth, Andy clawing at her. His hands fastened around her throat. She kicked. His fist connected against her temple and for a moment she saw stars.

  An angry shout behind her and then she was torn free from Andy’s grasp. A huge black, gold-streaked cat launched itself at Andy, bringing him down hard onto the floor. The cat shrieked, lowering its fangs to its victim.

  Another cat with wings flew past her. Taren! The gold-black cat tore at Andy’s throat, but Taren, morphing to human-shape, hauled the black cat back by its fur ruff, while placing his booted foot on Andy’s cheek, pinning him to the floor.

  Vincero, kitten! Harimal’s weak voice pierced her mind.

  Sam turned to see Hari and the starlord locked together in the transporter. Stars swirled around them, a galaxy forming, enveloping them.

  But something was wrong. She caught the starlord’s terror—the transporter was malfunctioning. Their atoms would be spread across the cosmos, never to re-assemble in the place the starlord had intended, in that galaxy far away.

  Noooooo… was the scream hers, Hari’s or the starlord’s? Perhaps all three shared that moment of horror?

  Sam leaped forward even as she saw Hari’s body engulfed in flames. He screamed in agony. Burned from inside out. The crystal on his chest flared into life.

  Vincero! It was Hari’s last word as his atoms were torn apart. Beside him the starlord also dissolved.

  The transporter flared like a supernova, then imploded.

  “Harimal! Hari-mine!” Sam crawled to the booth, weeping, trying to enter the transporter.

  Strong arms held her back. She fought, bit, kicked, scratched and was gently turned.

  “Honey-cat.”

  The voice was John’s. She blinked, looked up. John stood before her, his face smeared with blood, his gold, red-black-streaked hair in disarray about his shoulders. The hardness in his tawny eyes made her gasp. What new madness was this? John was dead.

  We are One, kitten, heart, soul, mind. I am here. For you, my fe’ha tu.

  You are dead. I…I’m dead, too. That’s okay. I can live with being dead. She laughed. As he went to touch her, she slapped at his hands. “You’re the starlord, I know it!”

  “Sammi!”

  Sam’s nails raked down John’s body. He cringed, but his hold did not slacken.

  Taren placed two fingers at Andy’s throat and pressed. “That’ll keep you asleep for now, you feegling bastard!” He ran to John’s side, h
elping him to restrain Sam as she struggled and cried.

  “It’s the Madness,” Taren said. “You know what to do!”

  John forced Sam to face him, holding her head between his hands. Taren pulled her hard against him, his rigid arms encasing her. She twisted to be free. He captured her hands in his, grimacing as her nails ripped his skin.

  “Samantha. Samantha,” John’s voice soothed. “Look at me, kitten-mine. Look into my eyes.” Seduction was in every word.

  “No. I won’t. I’m going to kill you. Kill you for all you’ve done, you feegling gevrin-iik!” She flung up the mind-lattice.

  “Stars!” John whispered. “You taught her too damn well, Taren, that lattice… I can’t break through.” He chipped at the mental barriers, but every breach was quickly replaced.

  “Stealth. Cat and mouse, brother-mine!” Taren said.

  John retreated, marshaling his thoughts, his strength. “Samantha-Tosca mine.” He sang the song from the charity performance broadcast from Broome—the night which had started her new life.

  But… Who? How? Sam paused, confused, a flicker of reason diluting her frenzy.

  The starlord would never know about that, could not ever know, because her lattice defense was impenetrable. Only two men knew that song and its importance—and both were dead. Hari and Kuno…gone.

  She drew in a shuddering breath and John pounced.

  My name is Kuno and I exist for you, only for you, fe’ha tu. For you, only for you, forever.

  His thoughts and love washed through her. The words could not be a lie. Only one man could speak them in that way… Her mind-link flared to life.

  My name is Samantha-Sharille. You are Kuno and you are my faeth-tul-san. I exist for you, only for you, now, forever.

  The words passed between them. Husband. Wife. Forever. Soul-mates.

  Memories blossomed, of their first night together in the Saturn Hilton… “Do I pass muster?” He smiled crookedly at her.

  Johnathan Lucas, alias Kuno…pearl farmer, sensualator, Broome. Chizan prince. Husband.

  He plunged into her mind, as his mouth claimed hers. He breathed into her, growling, purring as his hands stroked and soothed. The place of mutatis within her erupted. Her body knew, though her intellect rejected.

  John had been killed.

  I almost died, kitten, but I was saved. I was Initiated. Taren and Kari and Len saved me. I am felinus in every sense of the word.

  He mind-imaged his felinus self: the great black and gold cat that had tried to kill Andy with its teeth.

  John-Kuno, if this is a dream, don’t let me wake up. I couldn’t bear to lose you again.

  Is this a dream? He kissed her again and gave her the mutatis gift. His soul. The schahor.

  Sam crumpled into his arms.

  Harimal floated in the void. Cold. Pain. Burning. He screamed in agony, his mind shattering.

  A woman’s voice, sexy-husky, intruded his misery. She sang a lover’s song.

  Come to me. Be one with me tonight, Forever. Starlight and starbright.

  Harimal drew in a breath, another. Live. Must live.

  To not discover the owner of the voice would be a tragedy. He could die later, but not now…

  Starlight Seduction

  Sam stood behind the beaded crystal curtain leading into the private royal antechamber, watching the guests mingling in the sparkling ballroom. She clasped her hands behind her back, her fingers knotting in agitation.

  It’s time, my T’serlan.

  Sam’s heart leapt. John had mind-called her beloved. Moments later her euphoria fled as she realized what was going to happen. What would be required of her.

  She saw him stride forward, his robe billowing around him. He halted in the center of the room. The guests scattered, hugging the walls of the ballroom, a sudden, deep silence descending.

  John stood tall and proud, his hand out, palm extended towards her. Commanding. Dominating. No longer the pearl farmer, or the sensualator, but a son of Chizan, his arrogant stance was that of a Prince. He was san-Duran and in that moment he appeared a stranger to her.

  Then he smiled at her. That familiar, gentle smile lighting his eyes.

  Like herself, he was dressed in a simple kaftan of white silk. They each wore identical tabards of brocade, heavy and unyielding from the thick encrustations of embroidery and gems. Not the plain mutatis robes for them, the King had insisted they both wear the Ronsevaal heirlooms. As heir apparent, John was expected to play the part and she, his wife, must also.

  John’s hair was swept back and held from his face by a thin silver browband, his right cheek and temple elaborately painted with the blue and gold starlight design. Sam had elected to wear a full face veil attached to her headband. At least the fine gauze would give her a degree of privacy in a ceremony that would pronounce to the assembly that she and John-Kuno were fully mated. She was fe’ha tu and he was faeth-tul-san.

  Slowly, she walked across the room, trying to ignore the hundred or so guests watching her. Sam sensed their tension, their excitement and for those who were new to the ceremony, the fascination to be witness to a Chizan ritual.

  Sam held her palm a fraction above John’s. She felt his heat, his sexual hunger and in answer her nerves flared, igniting, making her breathless, and even more flustered.

  They had practiced the ceremony in their apartment, John a patient teacher of the intricate movements of the mutatis pavan—the ritual dance to commence the night’s festivities.

  Fresh panic welled up inside. She had forgotten the steps!

  Capturing her gaze, John swayed to the left. She swayed to the right. Her body remembered. They increased the motion until they moved around one another, gazes locked, palms separated a fraction. Rigid backs, rigid movements, heads held high, their dance a simulation of the bonding they had shared in private. But this dance was the antithesis of mutatis. They moved around one another, a whisper of silk, robes lapping, but flesh forbidden the slightest contact.

  Sam’s heart thudded in her temples; her mouth was dry, her throat tight as she danced to the music within her, to the crystal-fire flowing in her veins.

  Time stood still.

  How long they moved sinuously around one another, Sam did not know, but she halted simultaneously with John, their palms pressed together.

  He bowed before her and then standing tall again, he carefully raised her veil. He smiled. A flicker of starlight raced over his skin, igniting his eyes.

  He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. Utterly erotic, this simple, ephemeral caress.

  Around them Sam heard gasps and sighs from the spectators.

  From the musicians’ gallery on the mezzanine floor, the sound of a harp, flute and violin slowly intruded, heralding the next dance.

  Couples joined them on the floor, all moving with the slow, sedate measured pavan with its stilted movements and its sexual innuendo. John kissed her again and spun her away, joining the other dancers.

  Like a newly married couple performing the Wedding March, so she and John were required to lead the first dance, to herald the opening of the ceremony to celebrate the mated couple.

  After the pavan ended, John and Sam retreated to the antechamber at the side of the ballroom, closing the curtain behind them.

  Sam removed her veil and tabard. John stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, fingers gently caressing.

  He breathed against her neck. “You do me much honor, T’serlan.” His tongue teased her nape.

  She half turned to smile up at him. “You do me the honor, T’serl. You know I love you, don’t you John-Kuno?”

  “Yes.” A simple answer with layers of meaning, of understanding.

  “Just remember that,” she said. “I know I’ve been difficult, I—”

  His mouth took away her words. You’ll tell me when you can.

  Her love flared outwards and his responded, minds and bodies entwined. He clasped her shoulders and smiled ruefully, holding her at a di
stance.

  “Not here, Sammi.” He kissed her again, his tongue parting, gently lapping at her inner sweetness. “Not here, but later. Mm?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  Smoothing their ruffled hair and robes, Sam and John emerged from the room. They parted reluctantly, engaging the guests in polite conversation, but wanting to be alone together, to be free of the obligations that were now expected of them.

  Hours later, Sam stood beside Taren and Alesiar, sipping cool lemon soda from a crystal flute.

  Honey-cat, meet me outside. Prrrrr.

  John’s mind-whisper caressed, and in response to the seductive resonance of his voice, Sam almost dropped her glass.

  Grrrrowl. His felinus rumble vibrated through her body. What was he intending? She laughed at herself. As if she had to ask. Mischievous and cats were synonymous and if the cat was John-Kuno…

  Taren lifted a brow and smiled. “That felinus has a one-track mind.”

  “And you do not, bird-of-mine?” Alesiar asked, her gaze narrowed on her mate.

  Taren ruffled his feathers in the Avenor equivalent of a blush.

  Sam glanced across the crowded ballroom floor and saw John watching her, his tawny gaze afire. He lifted his chin, acknowledging her, and turned, striding out of the open doors to the patio.

  She put down her glass on a nearby table and straightened her shoulders, reluctantly facing the congested room. Panic twisted inside her. How could she walk the length of the room, to be again alone, in the midst of all the guests? Yet, John had called and she must answer, such was her responsibility as his mate.

  Sam took one step, before Taren’s hand on her wrist restrained her.

  “I am your clan-brother, Samantha, I know the hurt inside you.” His gaze flickered over her face. Sam saw the disgust. Not that she could blame him. Despite Kareena’s best attempts to use make-up to hide the bruises, there were some injuries that could never be disguised, especially those beyond skin-deep.

  “Ah, Sam,” Taren whispered. “You misunderstand. What does an assassin care for bruises and other scratches?” He stroked her arm, where the plasti-skin was hiding the deep furrows caused by the starlord. The monster had cut her to the bone. It would take more weeks to heal. “Scars in the line of duty are a badge of honor.”