15 Targeted (12 page)

“The Kindred
do
have females, they are just extremely rare. But even the other branches of Kindred produce more females than we Beast Kindred do.”

“So Rageron is a whole planet populated only by males?” She shook her head. “How is that possible? How do you not just die out?”

Tragar gave a soft growl of frustration.

“No, the whole planet is
not
populated only by males. We do have females—those from the native people of Rageron whom the Kindred interbred with. But such a mating almost always produces a male child. For a male Beast Kindred to mate with a female and produce a
female
Kindred child—that is rare. Even more rare is when that female turns out to be a
Khalla—
only a few are born in every generation.”

“And how are
Khalla
different from regular females?” Emily asked. “I mean, how can you tell when a girl’s going to turn out to be one?”

“They look different from the rest of our people—before they go through their
Tenrah,
anyway.” He nodded at her.

“Okay, and after they go through it?”

“They are special—some are imbued with powers or gifts that can only come from the Goddess. In fact, the
Khalla
are believed by many to be a physical manifestation of the Goddess—her way of walking among us for a time.”

“Okay, nobody ever accused me of being a goddess before.” She shook her head. “So you only have two or three of these special
Khalla
born every generation on your planet which is
light years
away from mine and somehow you think
I’m
one of them? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He shrugged. “To me either but there it is.”

“Do you think that’s why I was…was targeted? Why that Dark Kindred guy wanted me dead?” She shook her head. “God, I don’t even
know
any Dark Kindred. I mean, other than that horrible time when they were attacking the Earth…but that’s over now. We’re at peace.”

“I do not know why he wanted you dead but he was very definite about it,” Tragar said grimly. “Whether it has to do with you being
Khalla
or not is anyone’s guess.”

“But if he sent those dog things after me—those sniffers—is he going to send more?”

“It’s a possibility,” Tragar admitted. “But I don’t want you to worry about it.” He looked at her intently. “As long as you are with me, you’re safe, Emily. What we need to worry about now is your Shift. The
Tenrah
of a
Khalla
is a very dangerous and difficult time.”

“You act so
sure
that I’m one of these people. These
Khalla.”
She still sounded skeptical.

“I know you are—your scent is unmistakable.”

“How
can
it be if you’ve never seen or, uh, smelled a
Khalla
before?” she demanded.

Tragar took a deep breath though he knew it probably wasn’t advisable. Her scent was like a drug—a warm, feminine musk that spoke of heat and need. It drew him despite his iron will and the vow he had taken when he entered the
Verrak
never to seek female companionship again. Clearly the little female was unaware of it herself—she was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“I know because I’m male. I cannot mistake the scent of a female in heat,” he said at last.

“In…in heat?” She looked at him uncertainly, twisting her fingers together in her lap. “You’re saying I’m—”

“That is what the
Tenrah
is—the passage into sexual maturity for a female of my kind.”

“See, that’s just ridiculous,” she scoffed, sounding relieved. “I mean, I’ve been, uh, sexually mature since I was twelve and started my period.” Her cheeks got pink. “Not that I want to discuss things like that with a complete stranger but if that’s what it takes to convince you—”

“First blood does not mean a
Khalla
is ready to breed,” he interrupted.

“But I’m thirty-one!” she protested. “I mean, the idea that I’m only just now ready to…to…” Her cheeks got positively red. “It’s just ridiculous.”

“Thirty-one cycles is not old for a female of my kind but it
would
betoken a late
Tenrah.”
Tragar frowned. “Something must have caused your natural Shift to come later.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Some traumatic incident—some mental or emotional anguish?”

She bit her lip and looked away. Tragar cursed himself for a fool. He knew what that blond male had done to her. Gods, why hadn’t she allowed him to punish him properly earlier? He’d had to content himself with breaking every bone in the male’s dominant hand to keep him from touching a female against her will again, but it wasn’t nearly enough to pay for the pain he saw flickering in Emily’s eyes.

“Forgive me,” he said roughly. “I should not have—”

“Never mind,” she interrupted quickly. “The point is, you’re saying you can tell I’m a
Khalla
by the way I smell. Well…” she lifted her forearm, brought it to her nose and sniffed deeply.
“I
don’t think I smell any different.” She looked at him defiantly. “Not a bit.”

“That is not where your mating scent comes from,” Tragar growled softly, allowing his gaze to drift to the V between her thighs.

“Oh!” Hastily she crossed her legs. “But I—”

“Even if you discount your scent, the signs of a
Khalla
entering
Tenrah
are there.” He gave her a long, steady look. “Your eyes…the waves of heat…the dreams…your
Kit’tara
coming forward.”

“You said that before too—what is a kit…kit…?”

“
Kit’tara.
It is the
Khalla’s
hidden or second self. It is the female you will become when your
Tenrah
is completed.”

“What?” He seemed to have struck a nerve because she sat up straight and looked suddenly much more anxious. “You’re kidding, right? You’re saying that the
other
is going to take over completely? That she
wins?”

“Well, essentially—”

“No!” She banged her small fist on the console, causing the ship to swerve alarmingly. “No, she doesn’t get to win—she doesn’t get to take over! I won’t let her—I’m Emily—I’m
me—
not some alien, feral wolf girl with golden eyes and a taste for blood!”

Tragar finished leveling out the shuttle and started at her, amazed.

“Your
Kit’tara
is part of you, Emily—not some enemy trying to take over.”

“That’s
exactly
what she is—the enemy!” She looked at him, wild eyed with worry. “Tell me how to get rid of her—tell me how to stop this if you know so much!”

“I don’t know about stopping it but you might want to avoid getting upset,” he said, frowning. “Extreme stress brings the
Kit’tara
forward and speeds up the stages of
Tenrah.”

“Great.” She sank back into her seat with a groan and put a hand over her eyes. “There are
stages
now?”

“Four stages to be exact.” Tragar threw a glance at her. “I am hoping very much that you are still in the first stage—
Kalor.”

“And if I’m not?” She looked at him. “How would I even know?”

“You’d be able to tell.” He frowned. “Are your breasts swollen and tender?”

“What?” She crossed her arms over her chest protectively. “My breasts are…are just fine. What are you talking about?”

“Just trying to answer your question.” And his own question as well. Clearly she was able to touch her breasts with ease and there was no pain on her face as she hugged herself tightly. Also, he had seen no tell-tale stains across the front of her chest. Obviously she was not moving from
Kalor
to
Scintil
just yet. Thank the Goddess for small favors.

“So if I’m still in kajor—”

“
Kalor,”
he corrected, setting a flight path through the blackness of space towards his ship which was in deep orbit around the Earth.

“Okay, so
Kalor
. How do I get out of it? How do I stop it?” Emily demanded.

“Again, I do not believe there is any stopping it. But it is said that
Kalor
can be held off for a time. There are…ways.”

“What ways?” Emily demanded but Tragar only shook his head. The methods he had been taught were theory only—nothing he had ever expected to actually have to practice. And even if he was called upon to implement them, he didn’t know if he could. It was not for such as him to treat a
Khalla
in those ways—not unless it was a dire emergency.

* * * * *

“Tell me how to stop it, please!” Emily begged again but the big Kindred remained obstinately silent. He piloted the small car which had somehow become a spacecraft and looked straight ahead, staring at the complicated array of instruments in front of him.

Emily sighed in frustration and crossed her arms over her chest. Was it possible—could she really be this
Khalla
thing he was talking about? And if so, was
that
the reason someone wanted to kill her?

Even a month ago the idea would have been preposterous. But a month ago she hadn’t known she was adopted. And the heat waves, the dreams, the flashes of the
other
in the mirror had been far back in her past—easy to forget, easy to sweep under the rug along with the memory of what Grayson had done to her. Now they weren’t so easy to deny.

But that wasn’t the first thing the big Kindred—
Tragar, he said his name was Tragar—
had noted when he said she was a female of his kind.
He said I smell!
Emily thought indignantly. Which was clearly ridiculous—she took a shower every morning and a bubble bath every night before bed to relax. She was a
very
clean person.

She shifted away from him and ducked her head a little, pretending to stare out the window at the velvety blackness of space. Earth was no more than a large blue marble in the sky now—a frightening prospect if she let herself think about it. Emily didn’t let herself. Instead she ducked her head further and inhaled surreptitiously, trying to see if she could smell what he was talking about.