15 Targeted (77 page)

The look in his golden eyes made Emily’s heart race. Suddenly her breasts felt full and her nipples ached. Between her legs, her pussy was swollen and hot.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I
am
hungry,” she purred.

Kate laughed and shook a finger at her mate.

“See what you started?”

Rone gave her a lazy grin.

“As though a
Khalla
and her newly bonded mate need any encouragement.”

“We certainly don’t,” Tragar said. “Do we, my
Khalla?”

Before Emily could answer him, he stood and swept her into his arms in one swift motion.

“Mmm, Tragar!” she protested halfheartedly. “You’re so bad—where are you taking me?”

“Back to the breeding suite,” he growled softly. “I’m hungry, my
Khalla
and
you
are what I hunger for.”

Emily nuzzled her face into his throat, breathing in his dark, spicy bonding scent. Her entire body throbbed with desire and she knew she needed to be with her man again…feeling him fill her and fuck her and breed her for hours, renewing and strengthening their new bond all over again.

As Tragar carried her off, she heard Kate laughing.

“Okay then,” her new friend called. “We’ll see you guys in a day or two.”

Emily couldn’t answer—she was too busy kissing Tragar’s throat. But she didn’t think Kate would mind…

* * * * *

“Well?” Y demanded. “You saw how it went. The second
Verrak
assassin is dead and the
Khalla
is securely bonded to her mate and extremely well protected. There is no way to get to her now—your plan failed, Master Two.”

“Fool!” his Master raged inside his head. “You know nothing! Did I not tell you I have plans within plans?”

“And what is the plan now?” Y asked blandly.

“If you would ever stop your yammering for a moment and let me think—
ahhh!”
The Master snickered evilly. “Wait—I have it now. It is not too late—not too late at all! There is still a way to separate them and be certain they will never be together again.”

“How?” Y tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice but didn’t quite manage it. He might not know much of the universe but so far it seemed to him that every plan his master had made had been a dismal failure.

“We need a little help from the old witch—”

“Her again?” Y protested. “You saw what happened last time. She cast her spell—we even watched her feed the
Khalla
female’s hair into the fire—but still she refused to drink the Black Milk.”

“She
did
warn us that a
Khalla’s
mind is unpredictable and strong,” Two reminded him. “Besides, she is only
part
of my plan. We will also need some inside assistance—one of the disgruntled priestesses should do nicely.”

“But how will you contact them?” Y asked. “And what will you do once you have?”

“We will also need several pieces of equipment that I believe are available only on the defunct Scourge Father Ship,” the Master said, ignoring his question.

“I thought the Kindred had destroyed it when they killed the AllFather,” Y objected. He had been learning as much as he could about the Kindred race in his downtime lately, since they were his Master’s enemies.

Master Two made a noise of negation. “Wrong. They towed it out into deep orbit around the Earth’s moon. We have plenty of time to get there if we use the correct wormhole—fifteen solar days to be exact.”

Y shook his head. “I still do not understand.”

“Of course you don’t. But you will, my dear Y. Oh, you will…”

Chapter Thirty-three

Emily’s heart was thumping in her chest as she stepped into the Sacred Grove exactly fifteen days later. But this time, instead of pounding with dread, it was beating in a quick, light, joyful rhythm.
Going to be married today!
she thought and heard Emallia echo the joyous emotion.

Emallia rarely spoke up anymore—she really didn’t have to since she and Emily were one person now. But occasionally Emily could feel her thoughts and emotions, always in perfect sync with her own. It should have felt strange and wrong but it didn’t. Just like her bonding with Tragar and her new outwards appearance, it was natural and right in every way—just part of being a
Khalla,
she supposed.

Looking down the wide aisle between the green and purple trees, Emily couldn’t help contrasting this ceremony to her other joining ceremony—the one where she had almost been forced to join with Daro.

Emily was wearing the same dark red robes with gold embroidery and Daro was still there, at the end of the aisle as he had been before. But this time he was standing to Tragar’s left as his best man. He was smiling but it was clear he only had eyes for Lit’aal, who was standing at the end of the aisle looking extremely nervous about officiating. That might have something to do with Mother Chundra, who was standing behind her glaring daggers at her back.

The High Priestess still wasn’t happy at not getting her way and she hadn’t been shy about letting Emily know it. Frankly, Emily wished she hadn’t had to invite the awful old woman at all, but it really couldn’t be avoided, considering they were having the joining ceremony in the Temple where she was still the head honcho. Emily comforted herself that at least Turra wasn’t there. She really didn’t need
two
mean priestesses scowling at her while she was trying to get married.

Rone was standing to the right of Daro, serving as a second groomsman and also keeping an eye on the High Priestess and the other two members of the Holy Council who were standing on either side of her. Kate, acting as Emily’s maid of honor, was walking behind Emily, as was the tradition here.

At the very end of the aisle, behind the nervous Lit’aal and the angry Mother Chundra, was the huge statue of the Goddess. Emily couldn’t help wondering as she paced slowly down the grass lined pathway in her bare feet, what the Mother of All Life would think of all this—if she was really real, that was. Of course, she had prayed to the Kindred deity when she was trying to save Tragar’s life but she’d been desperate. At that point she would have prayed to anyone.

“
Mother…”
Emallia whispered and Emily felt her joy and reverence as she gazed at the huge statue with its stern but kindly face carved in the purest white marble. Perhaps there
was
something to the Goddess after all—her
Kit’tara
certainly seemed to think so. The Mother of All Life…a goddess who watched over her children and loved them and cared for them always. It was a beautiful idea, even if it was just theology.

The priestesses of the Temple were lined up along the aisle between the green and purple trees, just as they had been before and as Emily paced towards the waiting Tragar, she heard their happy and admiring murmurs. Most of them had turned out to be really nice as she got to know them. They, like everyone else here, were simply pawns—forced to follow Mother Chundra’s unreasonable demands. Emily heard from Lit’aal that she was a kind of hero to them now—she had stood up to the High Priestess and gotten away with it. They were in awe of her and not just because she was a
Khalla.

She reached the end of the aisle and turned to face Tragar. He was wearing a deep red shirt and his black leather trousers and boots and his long hair was pulled back to the nape of his neck. He had a serious expression on his face but there was joy in his golden eyes. A joy so great it spilled over into their link and made her heart sing when she looked at him.

“
My Khalla,”
she heard him think.
“So beautiful…how did I ever become so fortunate as to win you? The Goddess grant that I may be worthy of your love and forgive me for turning my back on her so many years ago.”

“
I’m sure she would if she heard you,”
Emily sent back, smiling.
“And I’m lucky to have you too, you know! I’m the luckiest girl I know. But now we have to concentrate—I think the ceremony is about to begin!”

“Dear ones, warriors and maidens, sons and daughters of the Goddess,” Lit’aal began in a shaking voice. “We are gathered here in the sight of the Mother of All life to join this male and this female together in a most sacred bond forged by love. We—”

“Stop!” Mother Chundra’s voice rang out as she stepped forward, pointing a finger at Emily and Tragar. “Stop—this ceremony cannot go on.”

“What?” Tragar growled. “What is the problem?”

“The problem is that this joining ceremony is not legal.” Mother Chundra raised her chin and looked down her nose at them.

“
How
is it not legal?” Emily demanded. “I don’t want to be a bridezilla here but you’re ruining my day!”

“The Right of Conflict which this
male
demanded, was never met.” Mother Chundra sniffed and motioned at Tragar. “He asked for the right to fight for your hand—”

“Which I
did,”
Tragar gritted out.

“Ah—but you refused to kill your opponent and there he stands.” She pointed at Daro who was looking worriedly at Lit’aal. “No blood was spilled.”

“No
blood
was spilled?” Emily couldn’t believe the garbage she was hearing. “Um, did you not notice the huge wasp-thing that Tragar killed to save me? Its
blood
ate a huge crater in the arena ground.”

“The intruder Tragar killed was not the one he challenged,” Mother Chundra insisted. “Therefore, I must call a halt to this joining ceremony and demand that the inferior male, Tragar, leave the Temple at once. The new
Khalla
shall remain here until she can be sent out on assignment to the people of Rageron who need her healing touch.”

“How dare you suggest such a thing?” Tragar’s voice was a low roar. “I will never leave my
Khalla—
we are bonded.”

“Too closely bonded to be certain—probably a result of you drinking her nectar.” Mother Chundra made a disgusted face. “Nevertheless, in a solar year or so the bond should fade a bit. Enough for her to have control of herself as she visits the people.”

“Enough for
you
to control me, you mean,” Emily snapped. “I don’t even know how you have the nerve to suggest such a thing! What makes you think we’d do anything you say?”

The High Priestess gave her a smile that was inordinately smug.

“Maybe the little fact that I have a whole new retinue of Temple Guards waiting to do my bidding.”

The groves of green and purple trees on either side of them rustled and before Emily could even scream, two burly guards were gripping her by either elbow. Many more suddenly appeared all around them, grabbing everyone in the wedding party, including poor Lit’aal who was shaking with fear.

“You dare! Take your hands off my mate!” Tragar had already shaken his guards off. Suddenly, a long, deadly blade appeared in his hand. Emily wondered where in the world he had hidden it in those tight trousers he was wearing. Wherever it had been, he was gripping it tightly now and there were already two guards down. There was going to be a bloodbath in a minute if somebody didn’t do something…