Synopsis |
Reviews |
Excerpt
Time is running out . . .
Rion Jaqard has crossed a galaxy to convince Earth to help him free his enslaved people. When he meets a fascinating woman—an enticing dragonshaper—Rion must make a terrible choice between duty and honor. One desperate decision can save his world but at the expense of all he holds dear.
Kidnapped . . .
When Rion abducts her, Marisa Roarke, fiery telepath and a dragon tamer critical to Earth’s recovery, is filled with anger and feelings of betrayal. But, when she discovers Rion’s secrets, the hot, explosive attraction she’s tried to deny is reinforced by empathy and a growing psychic bond that may change her forever.
The power of passion . . .
If Rion and Marisa don’t find a way to trust each other and channel their passion, a vicious empire will finish the subjugation of Rion’s planet. Maybe even Earth.
Susan Kearney, a native of New Jersey, writes full time and has sold books to the industries' top publishing houses — Grand Central, Tor, Simon & Schuster, Harlequin, Bell Bridge Books, Berkley, Leisure, Red Sage, and Kensington. As an award winning author, Kearney earned a Business Degree from the University of Michigan. Kearney's knowledge and experience spans throughout the romance genre, and her fifty plus books include contemporary, romantic suspense, historical, futuristic, science fiction, and paranormal novels. She resides in a suburb of Tampa—with her husband, kids, and Boston terrier. Currently she's plotting her way through her 54th work of fiction.
Coming Soon!
1
She who lives without taking risks dies without
love.
—English
Proverb
London, the near
future
"YOU CALL THAT relaxing?” A deep male voice reverberated through the exercise room, and Marisa Roarke
opened her eyes. "Meditation is so overrated.”
Rion Jaqard
stalked with predatory zeal across the Trafalgar Hotel’s workout room, flung a
towel onto a chair, and whipped off his shirt before sliding onto the weight
bench.
During the few
times Marisa had run into Rion at her brother Lucan’s apartment, she’d noticed
Rion was built. But she hadn’t realized he was so solid. Talk about walking
testosterone. She’d bet even his sweat had muscles.
Rion always emitted a sexy aura. But tonight he seemed to have turned his charms up a notch. Almost as if his
alluring appeal was a veneer. And beneath was an undercurrent of banked
urgency. Intensity. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was different about him
but her tired mind was reluctant to question, preferring simply to appreciate
his....
She had to stop
looking.
Even if he was
totally irresistible, she should have been immune. He may have been a first-rate flirt with other women, but he’d always treatedher like a pesky kid sister. And who could blame him? A nasty divorce many
years ago had left her with the expectation that most relationships were built
on a mountain of lies.
Trying to ignore
the size of Rion’s very broad, very muscular chest, she frowned. "These days I
find relaxing pretty much like trying to fly with only one wing.”
Conversation
over. She shut her eyes again. But the image of his ripped chest and totally
toned, totally etched abs remained.
Marisa
imagined those powerful arms around her. Strong, yet gentle. Warm and tight
with a current of need. She imagined his eyes filled with desire...
for her.
Stop
it.
Stop
imagining. She didn’t
imagine.
Not
anymore.
She
halted her wandering thoughts with hard facts.
Rion
was from the planet Honor. The first chance he got to leave Earth, he’d be
gone. But if all Honorians were built like him, Earth’s women would be rioting
for interplanetary travel visas. Of course, no such documents existed. Not
since the United Nations had shut down travel from Earth to the rest of the
galaxy.
For
the moment Rion was trapped on Earth. She sneaked another glance. All that
sculpted maleness was dazzling. Seductive. A woman could have a night to
remember with a body like his. She suppressed a sigh. Too bad she wasn’t that
kind of woman. Since her failed marriage she’d become even more careful. Maybe
too careful.
If
he’d ever, even just once, shone any of his alpha sex-machine machoness in her
direction, she might have succumbed to temptation and flirted. But he wasn’t
interested. He’d never been interested.
Stop
drooling. Just look somewhere else. Anywhere else.
Marisa
had thought herself past the age of ogling men who showed no sign of ogling
back. She figured her reaction was due to work-related stress from her new
career.
Just
six months ago, Marisa had been a successful correspondent at the St.
Petersburg Times in Florida. She’d covered everything from war in the
Mideast to the story about her brother Lucan and his wife, Cael, who had
brought back a cure from the planet Pendragon for Earth’s fertility problems,
which had been Marisa’s last assignment.
While
the cure had saved humanity from extinction, it had side effects, a genetic
shift that required some people to periodically morph into dragons. But humans
were not accustomed to their new dragonshaping abilities, which required
controlling their more primitive side. So after discovering her own telepathic
powers could be used to calm the dragons’ highly sexed and predatory
tendencies, Marisa had switched careers.
A
fifteen-hour shift, exhaustion, and her not-so-successful attempt to erase the
emotional aftereffects of dealing with her oversexed dragonshaping clients had
clearly upset her equilibrium.
She
closed her eyes. Out. Out. Out. Rounding up the stray emotions, she
corralled them into a tiny corner of her mind, then squashed down hard.
But she still couldn’t block out the man across the room. The weights clinked as Rion raised and lowered
them, and Marisa peeked again through her lowered lashes. The guy was gorgeous.
He slanted a
glance in her direction. The gleaming interest in his eyes startled her. "Hard
day?”
"Uh-huh.” She
looked away. The one-on-one telepathy she’d originally signed up for wouldn’t
have made her this susceptible to Rion’s sexuality. But after Marisa had begun
to work with the dragonshapers, she’d discovered she could simultaneously
communicate with an entire group of dragons. Her unique ability to help many
dragons at once made her a valuable asset to the Vesta Corporation.
Unfortunately, the side effects subjected her to all of the dragonshapers’
angers, fears, jealousies, and passions at once.
Don’t think
about work.
Left with
residual sexual tension, all her cells hummed with need.
Let it go.
Unclenching her
teeth, she forced her lips to part, breathed deeply through her nose, and told
the muscles in her aching neck to loosen. Or at least to stop throbbing so she
could go up to her hotel room and sleep.
"Maybe lifting
would relax you.”
She arched an eyebrow. Something had to be wrong with her hearing because his voice sounded coaxing.
"If you need
help, I could spot you,” he continued.
"No, thanks.”
Surprised by his persistence, she spoke without looking at him.
Why couldn’t he
just leave her alone? Surely by now even his oversized biceps had to be
burning, his lungs aching for oxygen. But he didn’t sound out of breath.
"Let me know if
you change your mind.” His tone held a hint of disappointment.
Disappointment?
No way.
Her tired mind
had to be misinterpreting his signals. As much as she’d have liked to believe
he was interested in her, she knew better. So she had to accept that the
dragons’ residual passions were affecting her judgment.
"Meditation
works better in silence,” she said calmly, pleased that her voice didn’t give
away how aware she was of the way his buttocks tightened and relaxed in a
fascinating rhythm that made her mouth go dry.
"Seems to me
your meditation isn’t working.”
He was right.
She couldn’t stop staring at him. A light gleam of sweat glistened on his skin,
emphasizing his muscles as he set down the weights.
He straightened
and raked her with a gaze that settled on the vein throbbing in her neck. "Your
pulse rate must be over one thirty,” he said.
Hell. Any woman
within ten meters of him would have an elevated pulse. "Are you deliberately
trying to annoy me, or do you come by it naturally?”
She expected him
to take off, but he grabbed his towel, slung it over his shoulders, and wiped
the sweat from his brow. And gave her a look brazen enough to heat every flat
in London—for the entire winter.
Whoa. She might
be tired. But not that tired. No way could she misread his male interest. Just
what was going on here? He’d never looked at her like this before. What was he
up to?
His tone oozed
charm. "There are better ways to relax.”
"Like?” Marisa
couldn’t prevent a tiny smile raising the corners of her lips.
His dark gaze
flicked to her mouth, tracked it with hot male interest. He’d taken her smile
for an opening. Of course, he would. She doubted anyone had ever told Mr.
Irresistible no. Approaching with a long- legged saunter that made her eyes
narrow with speculation, he sat on the mat behind her and placed his palms
firmly on her shoulders.
She should pull
away until she knew what he was up to. But she couldn’t. Not when he looked so
damn good.
He went still
behind her, drawing out a moment of silence that thrummed with tension. Her
sizzling awareness of him seemed to fill the space between them with a rush of
heat.
At the first
touch of his hands on her shoulders, she had to bite back a gasp of pleasure.
Gently, ever so slowly, he kneaded her neck and caressed her shoulders with a
sensual thoroughness that melted away the tension. Circling in on the tight
spots with soothing caresses, he feathered his fingertips over her sore
muscles.
Her pulse
leaped. She swallowed hard.
Rion
eased the heels of his palms into her tight shoulders with lingering, luscious
strokes. After several mesmerizing minutes, he leaned forward and his breath
fanned her ear. "You carry tension in the neck.”
"I
do?” She sighed and leaned into his hands, grateful for the relief.
He kneaded gently, gradually going deeper, until her
muscles melted, until she
felt as warm and pliable as taffy. His fingers were so clever, but as he released one kind of tension, a sensuous
anticipation began to build.
"Am
I too hard for you?” he asked, almost sounding innocent.
She
jerked upright and made a choking sound. He was sitting behind her, but she
could see his chiseled face reflected in the mirrors and caught a reckless
I-shouldn’t-be-messing-with-my-best-friend’s-sister-but-I’m-going-to-do-it-anyway
gleam in his eyes. "My hands. Am I rubbing too hard?”
"You
feel great. And you damn well know it.” She lifted an eyebrow and shot back her
best I-know-what-you’re-up-to look.
But
she really had no idea what his intentions were. He might have been a
first-class flirt with other women, but with her, he’d merely been friendly.
"I’m
glad you like my touch,” he murmured.
At his flirting, her heart fluttered, but she tamped down
her excitement and cast
him a curious glance. "From what I hear, you’ve had lots of practice.”
Rion
worked on a knot next to her spine, applying tension until the tightness ebbed.
"You have an Earth saying, ‘Practice makes perfect.’ But I’m not certain if a
massage can ever be perfect. After all, there are so many variations of where
to touch... how to touch... when to touch...”
No
one could accidentally be that suggestive—not even a man from another
planet. And while she’d love to find out exactly where and how he would touch
her next, all her caution signals flared.
Leaning
forward, he whispered into her ear, "Did you know you have a very sexy neck?”
His gray eyes met hers in the mirror, and she could have sworn they smoldered.
When he brushed a wispy tendril from her nape, heat shimmied down her spine.
Damn,
he was smooth. Real smooth. Although she’d already been burned by her
ex-husband, she was long over the hurt. Yet when it came to men, she remained
cautious, unable to trust her own judgment.
Ignoring
the desire surging through her veins, she scooted from under Rion’s hands and
stood. "Thanks. It’s been a long day. I need to hit the sack.”
"Good
night, Marisa.” He stood, too, and grabbed his shirt. As she left the workout
room, he called out to her. "Sweet dreams.”
Sweet
was out of the question. Sizzling hot was more like it.
2
He will speak at times of things yet to
happen... for he has the gift of sight.
—Merlin
AS ALWAYS, RION’S vision
flashed before his eyes without warning.
"You dare to
defy me?” The Unari raised his whip.
His victim, a
man on his knees, bowed his head.
The Unari’s
lash swished, cutting the air and biting into a back already scarred from too
many whippings, leaving yet another bloody welt.
At the
vicious blow, the victim clenched his jaw but didn’t utter a sound. Eyes dulled
by pain, head down, his emaciated body trembled.
"Get up.” The
blasé tone of the Unari suggested he’d beaten many men.
And then the
vision widened in scope, like a camera backing up and allowing a wide-angle
view. Bright orange Cuttees flapped their wings and soared over the hellish
Honorian desert. And Rion gasped in horror. Beyond the two men were hundreds, maybe
thousands more starving Honorians, laboring to build a giant wall under the
Unari lash.
"Get up,
slug. There’s work to do.” The Unari landed a brutal kick on the man’s hip.
Deep in a
trance, Rion flinched. Willed the man to get up.
The lash
descended again, this time shredding skin across the man’s vulnerable stomach.
With a primal howl, he pulled his knees into his chest.
As the man
writhed in pain, Rion glimpsed a distinctive three-quarter crescent-shaped burn
mark on his arm.
Sweet
Goddess. Rion knew him. Avril had once been a giant, a palace guard.
"Back on your
feet. Get up, slave.”
"Slave?” Rion
snapped out of his trance, head reeling. It took him a few moments to realize
he’d had a flash, a gruesome vision of the future.
Currently a
guest on planet Earth in the luxurious Trafalgar Hotel, where the Vesta
Corporation had housed him for the last six months, Rion paced, clenching and
unclenching his fists.
Ever since his arrival on Earth, Rion had been employing his diplomatic skills to convince the United Nations
to join the Honorians’ fight against the Unari. So far he didn’t have the votes
of enough delegates to swing a commitment from Earth. Hell, they wouldn’t even
agree to open the portal to send him back home, never mind pay for an army to fight
the Unari.
But he was now
done with diplomacy. Done pleading for Earth to help.
It was time to act. And his new plan was moving along nicely. Running into Marisa last night had been no
accident. She’d been suspicious at first, smart woman that she was, but after
the shoulder massage, he was pretty sure she now thought of him as more than
Lucan’s friend.
Sealing the deal
might take longer.
His best
friend’s twin... annoyingly suspicious of him, downright
intelligent, blessed with rare telepathic talent, she was definitely a woman
with curves in all the best places. She deserved to be taken to London’s best
restaurant, wined and dined by a real gentleman.
His conscience
stabbed, but he didn’t have the luxury of questioning his scruples. Not after
the horrors he’d seen.
By the Goddess,
he’d had enough of political squabbling, indecision, and England. The visceral
need to get home to prevent the disaster he’d envisioned flared hotly in his
core. Only long years of discipline allowed him to contain his rage. But he’d
do anything to save his people.
With
communications knocked out on Rion’s home world, Marisa was the key to his plan
to free his people of the Unari invaders. A rallying cry sent to every
dragonshaper on Honor would make it possible for Rion to organize a revolt. And
Marisa had the rare talent to send that message.
Leaving his
room, Rion strode down the hall to the suite next door and knocked on the door.
"Lucan... you there?”
Marisa cracked
open the door and slipped off the security chain. With her mass of chestnut
hair—highlighted in various shades—vivid blue eyes, and slender body, she
resembled a picture he’d once seen in a childhood book about a fiery mountain
sprite.
"Enter at your
own risk.” Marisa’s eyes sparkled with humor, as if he’d caught her at the tail
end of a joke.
Tendrils of her
luscious mane curled over her slender neck, and he was reminded of feeling that
smooth, silky skin beneath his fingertips last night. She shot him a friendly
grin as if their encounter had never happened. "Welcome to chaos.”
"Isn’t Lucan
around?” Pretending to search for her brother, he forced his gaze from her
provocative gem-studded earlobes to look around the hotel suite.
She hadn’t been
exaggerating about the chaos. Two baby dragons hopped across the carpet. Not
yet strong enough for true flight, they took a few running steps, fluttered
their wings, and toppled over, only to get up and do it all over again.
"Shut the door quickly before one of them escapes.” Marisa scooted a baby away from the door.
Rion stepped
into the turmoil of boisterous baby dragons, a barking dog, and a ringing
phone, but Marisa seemed unfazed by the confusion.
Wearing high
heels, jeans, and a snug tank top, Marisa swayed her hips with a sensual ease
as she stepped between the furniture, the yapping dog, and the baby dragons’
hopping test flights. "Lucan and Cael are out to dinner.”
Watching the
babies cavorting on the rug, Rion grinned at one major side effect of the
sterility cure. Some people who took the vaccine now had the ability to morph
from human to dragon and back. As did their children. And the babies shifted
back and forth at will.
His smile faded
as he recalled Earth’s struggle to accept the dragonshapers. During the last
six months, parents, governments, and schools
had adjusted to a baby boom and three-month gestation periods. In order
to adapt to the cultural changes, many people had made sacrifices. Marisa had
given up her reporting job to work at a London university and now used her
telepathic abilities to teach adult dragonshapers how to contain their powers
and strength.
Thank the
universe the rambunctious little ones couldn’t breathe fire yet. "You
volunteered to watch the twins?” Rion asked, careful to simulate surprise.
"I must have
been out of my mind,” Marisa said with a laugh. Ignoring the ringing phone, she
pivoted and leaned over to pick up a dragon. The pose drew his attention to her
perfectly rounded ass, and he found himself battling the urge to yank off her
jeans and nibble his way down to her panties.
She plucked one
of the twins off the dog’s back. "Condor, sweetheart, you can’t ride Buster.”
Rion laughed.
"Why not?”
She set the baby
dragon on the carpet and shook a finger at Rion. "Don’t start.” Her voice was
stern, but her lips twitched into a smile. "Their claws might scratch him.”
Rion raised an
eyebrow. "Through his fur?”
"I don’t know.”
Marisa shrugged. "Even their mother doesn’t know. Cael says she didn’t
dragonshape until she was five and had a little common sense.”
As baby
dragonshapers, Rion and his cousins had often ridden the Honorian equivalent of
dogs and horses. The young dragons’ instincts were right on target. Lifting
Condor, Rion gently placed him on Buster’s back. The dog wagged his tail. "See,
he doesn’t mind.”
"But Nessie’s throwing
a fit. She wants up, too.”
Rion patted the
little girl’s neck. "Nessie, you’ll have to wait your turn.”
Nessie squawked
and flapped her wings.
"Uh-oh.” Marisa
reached for Nessie.
But the dragon
dodged, evading her aunt’s hands, and Marisa clenched empty air. She stepped
forward to catch her balance, and her heel caught in a dog toy. Rion grabbed
her shoulder and pulled her against his chest to steady her.
The sweet scent
of her hair and the feel of her soft, toned body inflamed his senses and tempted
his fingers to explore. He yearned to plunge his fingers into her hair, yank
back her head, and taste her sweet mouth.
If she’d been
unattractive, he still would have pursued her. But she was gorgeous, alluring,
thank the Goddess, so lying, at least about his attraction to her, wasn’t
necessary. However, holding her this close had him all fired up. Both his
hearts pounded out a rhythm. Take. Take. Take.
If Rion were
here solely to slake his own needs, he would have slammed his mouth over hers
and demanded what he wanted. But his people needed her help. He couldn’t risk
moving too fast.
Employing the
utmost control, he held perfectly still.
She tilted her
head back and smiled. "Thanks.”
Rion didn’t even
attempt to control the huskiness in his voice. "I’m always happy to catch a
pretty girl.”
She blushed.
Rion reluctantly released her, but not before he breathed in her scent once
more... strawberry soap, with a hint of lime.
Eyes sparkling,
Marisa spoke breathlessly. "Guess I should be wearing track shoes to keep up
with this brood.”
Kicking off her
heels, she revealed bright turquoise polish.
At the sight of
those toes, Rion sucked in a harsh breath. What other surprises did Marisa keep
hidden beneath her clothes?
Were the dragon
scales on the insides of her arms, legs, and spine deliciously thin, or
intriguingly solid? When he’d held her so closely, had her scales undulated in
response? Would she writhe with pleasure if he ran his tongue over them?
Buster banged
into Rion’s leg, and Rion reached down to pet him, glad for an excuse to move
away from Marisa. This was not the time to come on to her. He had to hold back
if his seduction was going to work.
The dog
ricocheted off his leg and scampered around the couch, almost tripping Marisa
again as he ran in a tight circle, barking and wagging his tail. Condor clung
to Buster’s back, flapping his wings, cooing happily. Nessie roared, spread her
wings, and launched herself high enough into the air to settle perfectly atop
her brother.
The scene was
chaotic but also homey, cozy, and peaceful in a clamorous way. So different
from the brutal violence in his vision. By the Goddess, he would do whatever
was necessary to bring this kind of bliss to Honor again.
Patience. He
couldn’t come on too strong. While he’d have to wait until the babies were
asleep to make a physical move, he could still put this time to good use.
Nessie’s wing
knocked over a vase of flowers. Rion lunged and caught it, but not before water
spilled onto the rug.
Marisa rolled
her eyes and gave Rion a now-see-what-they’ve-done look. "Cael’s going to
scorch us.”
"Your brother’s put her through much worse, and she hasn’t cooked him.” Rion placed the vase in a closet
and shut the door. He glanced up and spotted Merlin, Cael’s owl, on the top shelf
of the bookshelf by the fireplace, wisely settled high above the fray.
Rion turned to
Marisa, his body back under control. "Cael loves your brother. Besides, he has
more than enough fire to counter hers.”
"I’m glad my
brother and Cael found each other. They have it all— passion and friendship.
They are true soul mates.” She grinned.
Damn, she had a
beautiful smile. "You aren’t jealous?”
She shook her
head, her chin at a jaunty angle. Marisa clearly couldn’t have been happier for
her brother. "The two of them give me hope. If they can be that happy...”
Her eyes took on a dreamy hue that intrigued him. Floored him.
Sweet holy
Goddess. He might have just enough scruples in him to stop his reaction to the
smokiness in her voice or the vulnerable hope in her eyes. But his body
reacted.
He shifted to
hide his arousal.
Between Marisa’s
stunning looks and her quick mind, she was accustomed to men pursuing her. And
accustomed to turning them down. That dreamy look in her eyes had told him she
wanted the same kind of connection her brother had with his wife.
She wanted love.
Commitment.
A decent man
would walk away. A man with fewer responsibilities would do the right thing and
leave her to pursue her dreams.
But Rion wasn’t
that man.
"I heard you set
your own fire last week,” he teased, turning the conversation in a safe direction. Marisa had dragonshaped, eaten
platinum, and accidentally incinerated a tree.
"You heard about
that?” Marisa laughed, not the least self-conscious about her actions. "I
haven’t had much time to work on my own dragonshaping control. The government’s
keeping me too busy calming everyone else.”
New
dragonshapers were required to go through Marisa’s one-week training to learn
to regulate their fire-breathing. Not so easy a task, especially since dragons
lost most of their human intellect after shifting.
"How’s it
going?” he asked, careful to keep his voice casual.
"I’m getting the
hang of group telepathy.”
As twins, Marisa
and Lucan had always been telepathic—but just with each other. However, after
Marisa had taken the vaccine, she’d discovered she could communicate with
multiple dragons, while remaining in human form. Selflessly, she’d given up her
home in Florida and a job she loved as a reporter because Earth needed her
unique talent. Not only could she train more than one dragonshaper at a time,
she could draw on her full human intellect to cope with the primitive dragon
brains.
The dog rounded a corner, and Nessie pitched sideways. Marisa bent to catch her, her jeans tightening
again to give him yet another glimpse of the perfect shape of her ass. But the
dragon righted on her own, and Marisa straightened.
"Excuse me a
sec,” Marisa told him, then focused on the babies.
Setting her
hands on her hips, her face full of intense concentration, she moved her lips.
While he heard nothing, the baby dragons did. They now used their front talons
to cling to their ride.
Clearly, Marisa
had given them instructions through a silent mental link. Impressive. And if
his resolve had wavered, it was back in full force. It was too bad for Marisa
that he needed her. But neither his genuine liking and respect for her, nor his
own guilt, would deter him from carrying through with his plans.
Buster ran under
a coffee table, scraping the babies from his back. Nessie and Condor tumbled,
rolling and squawking, but weren’t injured. Dragons were tough.
Marisa grinned.
"I think that’s enough rough stuff for...”
Buster barked at
the dragons, circled them, then barked some more, as if ordering them to climb back
on. This time, Nessie flew on first. Condor settled on top of her, and the
three of them were off flapping and running again.
As if in unspoken mutual agreement, the adults gave up on conversation. They didn’t have to wait long for the
commotion to die out. A few minutes later, the dog lay panting on the carpet
and the twins humanshaped. Stronger than non-dragonshaping children, Nessie at
only three months could crawl over to Rion, and he lifted her onto his lap.
With a
mischievous grin, Marisa handed him a baby bottle, picked up Condor, and began
to feed him. Looking lovely, she cuddled the baby close, in the easy pose of a
natural mother. He followed suit, cradling Nessie in the crook of his arm and
placing the nipple between her tiny pink lips, surprised at how good it felt to
hold a child again. She smelled like powder and lotion. Sweet.
"Why so
thoughtful?” Marisa asked, her face soft and happy.
He felt his neck
flush. He’d just had a flash that implied imminent danger to his people, and
here he was cooing over babies. He ignored her question. "Are you enjoying your
new telepathic abilities?”
"Mm-hm?” She
raised an eyebrow as if she knew his introspection had really been about the
baby. "I’m still adjusting. I suppose we both have abilities that can be seen
as advantageous as well as detrimental. Lucan told me how the flashes frustrate
you.” She crossed one elegant leg, reached for a soft cloth, and wiped a
trickle of milk from Condor’s cheek.
He kept his gaze
on her eyes, although he really wanted to memorize the curve of her leg. "For
me the worst part is when I don’t have a clue if my vision is from the past,
present, or future. What’s worst for you?”
"The residual
emotions. When I’m open and sending messages, I’m also receiving. I’m not so
good at filtering them out.” Marisa might have looked maternal, but her eyes
sparkled with a sexy-as-hell curiosity. "Are your flashes like a waking dream?”
"Sort of.” Rion
rarely spoke about his flashes. But to gain her confidence, he had to give a
little. "When a trance hits, I’m still aware of what’s going on around me. If I
have to I can move, but only slowly, since I’m so distracted. Like being caught
up in a good book, only more so.”
"Can you make
yourself—”
He shook his
head. "The flashes come at random. Sometimes I see a one-second snapshot.
Sometimes I see an entire scene. It’s rarely complete, and I don’t even know if
it’s the beginning, middle, or end.”
"Does everything
you see in the future come true?”
"Unless I do
something to alter that future.” He hesitated to say more.
Her gaze,
suddenly sharp and curious, locked with his. "You can alter the future?”
"That’s what my
father and grandfather believed.”
She pursed her
mouth as if she’d figured out a puzzle. "So like the telepathy I share with
Lucan, your flashes run in the family. But... you don’t like
them?”
Her perception
surprised him. "They are my birthright. I’ve learned not to ignore them. The
good visions can be very useful. Three years ago, I got a visual warning to
escape just before the Unari invaded Honor. That one saved my life.”
"The Unari? Who
exactly are they?”
"No one knows
for sure. But my people believe the Unari race is one of the most powerful
partners in the coalition of evil that makes up the Tribes.”
"And you saw
Lucan in a vision before you two met?” she asked.
He nodded.
"Before I’d ever heard of Earth, I saw myself and your brother battling the
Tribes.”
Marisa frowned.
"The Tribes? King Arthur’s ancient enemy? Isn’t that who you and Lucan fought
on Pendragon?”
"Yes and no.
It’s true we fought the Tribes on Pendragon.”
"But?” she
prodded, her gaze burning into his, her body tensed.
"My vision of
your brother and me fighting the Unari Tribes together hasn’t happened yet.”
Marisa’s gaze
pierced his. "Oh, my God. Are you certain?”
"Yes.” Rion
nodded. "While we were on Pendragon, we found hints that King Arthur’s ancient
enemy, the Tribes, might be rising again. Not just on Honor. Not just on
Pendragon. But all across the galaxy.”
