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be to get a visa for her to visit Rysalia Prime?"

"I don't care. Just see to it, Lona," ordered Cree.

ADMIRAL DRAE Cree handed the computer printout to his mistress then leaned

back in his chair. "I had a hell of a time getting him leave after that re-enforcement, but here it is. It was approved less than an hour ago." He frowned. "I let Onar know I was extremely displeased with his actions. I let him know Kamerone and I had discussed him

having sex with Dr. Dunne."

Dr. Dean arched a brow at him.

"I didn't lie," Drae insisted. "Kamerone and I
did
discuss it."

Beryla smiled at her lover then looked down at the leave papers. "I wasn't sure if he

would take the bait or not."

Drae snorted. "Beryla, you know gods-be-damned well the man had no choice but tòtake the bait' as you so eloquently phrase it."

The Director tucked her feet under her on the sofa and sipped her liqueur. "I hate using Bridget like this. She had no idea what we were about when I brought up the subject of

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home. She didn't know he was listening."

"She didn't need to know," the Admiral replied. "All she had to do was play her part in getting him to Rysalia Prime."

Beryla Dean frowned. "You are sure there is no danger?"

Drae Cree's smile faltered. "We don't believe so, but just to be on the safe side, we will have a transporter locked on her and waiting should the need arise."

"Good," Dr. Dean breathed. She took another sip of her lemony brew. "Good."

SHE HAD taken away the cold; she had taken away the darkness; she had taken away

even the deafening silences so that he now existed in sheer, uplifting joy. He knew true

happiness for the very first time in his life and it was a knowing that had set his soul free.

"Catch me!"

Cree watched her run across the meadow, scattering multi-hued butterflies in her wake.

She looked back, teasing him, and he took off after her, zigzagging his way around

clumps of brightly colored wildflowers, knee deep in waving, shimmering grass as he

ran. He almost caught her, but she darted away, leaving him clutching thin air.

"Is that the best you can do, Reaper?" she taunted him, sticking out her tongue.

A sinister smile etched his tanned face and he stopped, watching her enter a copse of

trees; saw her peeking at him from the bole of a grandfather oak, jerking back so he

wouldn't see her.

But he did not need to see her. He could sense her. Smell her. Hear the blood pumping

strongly through her veins. His visual perceptions had changed so that he could actually

`see' the warmth of her as she stood there. She did not know he held such an unfair

advantage over her or that he easily could have caught her the moment before if he had

really tried. He was faster than her; more cunning; with animal instincts she could not

begin to understand.

BRIDGET PEEKED out from behind the tree again and the teasing smile slipped

from her face. Where had he gone? She was about to slip away when his arm encircled

her waist and she was lifted free of the ground.

"Gotcha!" he whispered in her ear.

She turned in his arms, then like the wanton he had named her, stood on her tiptoes and

plastered her mouth firmly to his, thrusting her tongue past his lips and into the warm

recesses of his mouth. Before he knew what she was doing, she wiggled free of his hold

and was off running across the meadow again, her skirts flying behind her.

Cree shook his head, grinned, then went after her, but came up short when he saw her

intent. "Don't you do it!" he yelled to her, When she began to pull off her blouse, he started running after her again, increasing his speed. "Bridget, I said no!"

"I'm hot!"

He was almost to her when she turned and dove into the fast moving rush of the river.

"
Bridget!
" he bellowed. "
Get the hell out of there right now!
"

"Come on in!" she called out to him as she backstroked through the water. "It's wonderful."

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there,
now!
" He put extra emphasis on the last word.

"There are no boogers in the water," she threw at him. "I checked with the Ministry of the Interior before we left this morning."

Boogers? Then he realized she must mean dangerous beasts. No, there were no

dangerous insects or reptiles in the water; not even rapids or whirlpools or the like. But

he wanted her out of the river, nevertheless.

"Get your ass out of there like I told you, woman!"

"Join me!" she invited him.

"I told you no!" he barked. He scanned the waters, frowning.

"What are you looking for? Piranha?"

"Get out, I said!" He stepped closer to the stream and held out his hand. "Come on."

He sighed with relief as she headed toward him. She reached up as though to take his

outstretched hand, then drew back.

"Come and get me!" she challenged, then turned and dove out into the deeper part of the river, disappearing beneath the moving water.

"Bridget!" He howled, his voice shrill with pure, unadulterated terror. He started

forward, stopped, staring at the moving water and let out an animalistic whimper of fear.

He raced along the riverbank, scanning the waters for her and saw nothing. He took

another step toward the fast-moving water, and then shrieked in frustration. When

Bridget's head popped, he jabbed a finger at the ground beside him and his voice shook

the leaves from the surrounding trees.

"Get your gods-be-damned ass back here right this minute, woman, or I swear before

all the gods in the megaverse that I will beat you black and blue when I get my hands on

you!"

Bridget's smile vanished. There was a thunderous look on his handsome face; fire

glowing brightly in his angry eyes. He was absolutely enraged and she knew it. And not

only that, he was shaking like a dog with a chill.

"All right," she said, striking out for the bank. When she waded through the shallows and was almost on dry land, she gasped as he snaked out a purposeful hand and yanked

her up against him, half carrying her on his hip as he swung her up and well away from

the running water.

"Don't you ever do that again!" he ordered, putting her down, clasping her shoulders in his hard hands and shaking her soundly. "Do you understand me, Bridget Dunne?"

Bridget's head bobbed back and forth until she managed to wrench away from his

brutal hold. "I won't," she said.

"Promise me, Bridget!" he shouted, reaching for her again, but she moved out of his reach.

"All right!" she yelled back at him. "I promise!"

He glared at her for a moment, and then let out a long breath. "Come away from that

gods-be-damned water, woman," he commanded, then turned and headed back toward the

meadow.

Sullenly—for the laughing moments had passed—she followed behind him.

THEY WERE sitting under the sweeping shelter of one of the ancient oaks, Bridget

with her back to the tree, Cree with his head in her lap. She had forgiven him for his

earlier outburst and was running her fingers through the dark curl of his shoulder length

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hair.

"What scared you so badly this morning, Kam?" she asked, glancing up as a distant

spear of lightning stitched through the sky to the north of them. She was surprised to see

that portion of the sky turning black.

Cree had been almost asleep, reveling in the feel of her hands in his hair, thinking how

he had been able of late to sleep the night through as long as she was lying at his side. He

pried his lids open and tilted his head back just a little so he could look up at her. "Don't you know?"

"No," she drawled. "If I had, I wouldn't have gone swimming."

He studied her a moment then realized she was serious. Had she known he was going

to react as he had, she would not have dove into the river. He relaxed in her lap. "I am Dearg-Duls, Bridget. Do you not know what that means?"

Bridget's hand stilled in his hair. "The Druids of ancient Ireland believed the Dearg-

Duls to be vampires," she said. "But there is no such thing."

He craned his neck to look up at her again. "Are you sure?"

She tugged at his thick curls. "Aye, Reaper, I'm sure!"

"Do you not realize your ancestors and mine must have met at some point? The

cultures are too similar for there to be any other explanation."

"So Dearg-Duls came from Chale?"

"Aye, I would imagine so," he answered. "But like most folklore, some of their true nature was corrupted in the tales. There is a place not unlike your Stonehenge on Chale

Prime."

Bridget let that pass. "So how are you like the vampires of Earth?"

"I can not enter running water. None of my kind can."

"So you can't swim. You aren't the only ones who can't."

"We can not tolerate the smell of garlic. Reapers shun it like the plague."

"I don't like curry, myself."

"When we Transition, we shapeshift."

"Vampires of Earth did, too," she responded. "Go on. What other vampiric traits do you have, Reaper? I know you don't have an aversion to sunlight otherwise we wouldn't be

sitting here." Before he could answer, she held up her hand. "And you can see yourself in mirrors so that let's that out. You eat food; you don't sleep in coffins; you brought me the

statue of the Blessed Mother so I know you aren't affected by touching holy objects. You

don't go around baying at the moon." She stopped. "Do you?"

"Not likely," he said dryly.

"So if you don't do any of the traditional things that make vampires vampires, what do

you do?"

"We drink blood."

Bridget shivered. "I know," she said quietly. "I fed you some, remember?"

"I remember," he replied just as quietly.

They were silent for awhile then he reached up to take her hand and hold it on his

chest. "Don't go into the water, again, Bridget. If you had gotten into trouble, there was no way I could have helped you."

"I'm a good swimmer."

"Don't do it again," he said firmly.

"I like to swim."

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"Too bad. When we come here, you won't be coming to swim."

"Cree—"

"This place is a little like your Earth, isn't it?"

She sighed, understanding that the matter of the swimming was settled in his mind. She

glanced around them. "Yes, I guess it is."

"Once," he said, sitting up and stretching, "when I had to go after a Hunter, I transported down to a place in your Iowa. This valley reminds me of that place."

"Excluding the good Sisters, how many women have you brought back from your

visits?" she asked.

"None."

Bridget arched a brow at him. "None?"

He shook his head. "That wasn't part of my job," he replied. He stopped, and then

frowned. "I take that back. I brought one back when Kryn Kiel's ship had warp drive

failure and he hailed us to help him. The female was an important scientist and they

needed to get her to the station ASAP. MacCorkingdale was her name. Sada

MacCorkingdale." He thought about that for a moment, and then snorted. "By the gods, but that woman fought me!"

"Can you blame her?" she asked.

"Blame her?"

"I can assure you that being plucked up from the only life you have ever known, by a

strange intimidating man, then trekked half-way around the universe to an alien world

where you are enslaved—"

"Enslaved?" he questioned, offended.

"Yes, Reaper! Enslaved. What do you call the buying and selling of human flesh if not

slavery?"

He stared at her. "You are not enslaved to me, Bridget."

"You bought me," she accused.

He had the grace to look sheepish, "True, but—"

"Can I return home?"

He shook his head firmly. "No, you cannot."

"Leave you to live on my own?"

"You'd better not try!"

"See other men—"

She didn't get that hypothetical question out before he twisted sideways and had her

beneath him before she could roll away.

"Try seeing another man, Bridget, my love, and I will make you watch while I tear out

his throat and drain every drop of blood from his screaming body!" The memory of

seeing her naked in Konnor Rhye's bed still twisted his gut.

"Get off me, you oaf!" she hissed, pushing with all her might, but an enraged

Kamerone Cree was not an easy obstacle to move.

"You are mine," he said simply and his mouth came down to drown out her protests.

Before long, his kisses became less punishing and more urgent until, once more, Bridget

was without clothing.

"I BELIEVE I've created a monster," she complained as she buttoned her blouse.

"You started it," he said.

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She glared at him. "
How
did I start it?"

"By ogling me the day I came home."