House of Moons 2: The Shadow Master Read online

  House of Moons 2: The Shadow Master

  Kara Fey

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2005 by Kara Fey

  No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Changeling Press LLC.

  ISBN 1-59596-093-7

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  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  PO Box 1561

  Shepherdstown, WV 25443-1561

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Pat Haley

  Cover Artist: Angela Knight

  This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Chapter One

  Despite the biofilters, perfume and sex clung to the inside of Kamara’s nostrils. Stale air and the narrow hallways on the slaver station closed in on her. War raged between her mind and her senses, but logic forced her to stay, to allow the acrid smells to invade her lungs. Five senses screamed that she inhaled the decayed air from inside an ejection coffin. Her sixth sense confirmed the truth was worse.

  Space Station Tantra 9 reeked of magic, drenched her psyche with writhing slaves and lust, and inflamed her body as if she’d been dosed with the powerful Ozera drug. The floor shifted beneath her feet and nausea threatened to choke her. Throwing one hand out to steady herself against the wall, she quickly slid onto the cold white marble of her throne as the door swung open and her servant, a trader named the Lizard for his green tinged skin, escorted her next client through the door.

  Lizard stepped forward, silver eyes flashing with annoyance, and bowed. “Empress, this one has requested to meet you.”

  “My thanks, Geck. Leave us.”

  He scrambled from the room and Kamara smiled. The memory she’d implanted to control him had worked extremely well. Almost too well. She’d been the bait in this hell hole for almost three moons now. Her reputation as the Slave Empress, the best to be bought, had traveled to the far worlds, and still there was no sign of her quarry. But this… this visitor was very interesting indeed.

  A tall man dressed in black bowed his head to her and stepped forward to speak. Kamara raised her hand to silence the fool before the lies could even begin. Hidden beneath the technology of a 5-S holographic mask stood a woman from Kamara’s own homeworld, and a Daughter of the House of Moons. Tall, strong, and beautiful, this daughter of Anthea caressed the moon dagger strapped to her leg like a man would stroke his lover’s lips. Her touch was soft. Comforting.

  Deadly.

  “Why did you come here, Moon Warrior?”

  Distress radiated from the woman hiding behind the mask. The holographic face before her frowned, but Kamara saw the real frown beneath it as if a shadow of the warrior’s form looked at her from beneath the surface of a deep lake. The woman’s face shimmered for a moment before she turned the mask off to reveal striking blue eyes and long golden hair. Aye, she was golden and beautiful, like her Sisters, but stern, and far too serious for her age. The skin on Kamara’s neck tingled in warning. She knew this woman. Had seen pictures…

  “I came for you.” With these words, the warrior pushed at her mind. A kaleidoscope of suffering and chaos flowed freely from the warrior. Kamara knew then that an empath, perhaps even a Shadow Master stood before her, but one newly awakened to her gifts and struggling for control. That she was a Moon Warrior, heir to the throne of Anthea, and forbidden to use her talent, her magic, intrigued Kamara all the more.

  Taking pity on the woman, the first decent soul she’d come into contact with in too long, Kamara ramped up her own energy barriers and moved closer to the woman to afford her some relief. After the psychic roar of the station, of hundreds of slaves writhing with Ozera-induced lust, the quiet peace she rarely allowed herself was deafening to both of them.

  All business, and seemingly undisturbed to have her true identity known, the warrior spoke. “I am Charla, a servant of Esmee, my queen. I have come to take you out of here.”

  Kamara laughed. Charla’s blue eyes narrowed, studied her, attempted a probe. And that’s when the other’s presence became known. Gritting her teeth, Kamara yanked her white gown up from where it trailed on the floor and moved even closer to whisper an accusation. “Perhaps that was your intent, but my brother followed you.”

  Charla attempted to read her thoughts again, and Kamara felt her meddling brother’s power augmenting the attack. Padraic, most feared of the Shadow Masters, psychic parasites who could watch events through another’s eyes, surged to the forefront of Charla’s consciousness, fighting to take control of her. Enraged, Charla fought back, but Kamara knew her brother was too powerful for the untrained warrior to resist. Sighing, Kamara reached out to touch Charla, and melded their strength together to force the intruder completely from her mind.

  Eyes wide, seemingly shell-shocked and struggling to maintain control, Charla stood before her and wrestled for the breath to speak. “Why are you here, Princess?”

  Princess? So, the little Moon Warrior knew who she was. Charla’s sudden curiosity was proof that the poor woman realized she was in over her head. “Setting a trap.”

  “For whom?”

  “It matters not, but I won’t leave until he’s dead. Tell my brother to stop interfering before he gets us both killed.”

  “I didn’t know a bastard Shadow Master hitched a ride. I assume he’s one of your brothers. They captured my Sister, Hana. I want to know where he took her.” Charla glared at her, towering over her by at least a hand in height. Rage poured from her energy field, hot and intimidating, to envelop Kamara like a flood of lava. Nevertheless, Kamara feared no one, and respect hung in the air between them.

  Charla had a delicate angel’s face, but her eyes conveyed both intelligence and deadly menace. The bitch was no angel. She was a warrior, a hunter who scented prey. She’d be back, with her powers under control. Nothing in this lifetime would stop her. That determination was something Kamara could both understand and admire. She just couldn’t cooperate. Hana and Kiel were extremely happy, and Hana was pregnant with her nephew. No. Charla could not be allowed to interfere.

  “So you can rescue her?” Kamara kept her voice neutral.

  “Yes.”

  “You believe she wishes to return with you?”

  “No.”

  Truth. What a novel concept. Kamara smiled and lifted her other hand from the many folds of her clinging white gown. Before Charla could pull away, Kamara’s fingers sought and found the edge of her glove and encircled the bare skin on the inside of her wrist. A jolt of raw power blossomed like a solar missile in Kamara’s chest. As though a bomb had exploded, the power roared through their fragile connection in one massive surge. Charla’s knees buckled and she swayed, then sank to her knees.

  Looking down at the woman she held in thrall, Kamara wrapped her in a soft cocoon with her tone. “I’m sorry, Moon Warrior. This is the only way.”

  Soft, melodious, and impossible to resist, the voice of magic worked its spell on Charla. Kamara wasn’t about to allow this overzealous woman to ruin Kiel and Hana’s happiness or destroy three moons of hard work and planning. Her prey was getting closer. She could literally feel him closing in on her. Padraic had meddled in her life once too often. Padraic and Charla. The two of th
em could ruin everything… so she’d just have to keep them occupied with each other.

  Oh, this was going to be fun!

  With a smile in her voice, Kamara started planting memories…

  Chapter Two

  Two Spins Later…

  Charla’s nostrils flared. Never would she understand Esmee’s order to bring a male before her -- for questioning! As a Seeder, yes. But why waste time talking? If the queen had a problem with him, why not just order his execution? Shaking her head, Charla watched from where she leaned against an arching metal girder and the wall. Half hidden in shadow, 5-S mask firmly in place, she kept her eyes on the Cross-Worlder, her target, as he approached the lizard man. For some reason, she couldn’t remember the details of her assignment. Only two certainties remained. One, she must capture him and make the three-week journey back to Anthea. And two, she must, at all costs, ensure he came to no serious harm along the way.

  But the man was an imbecile. Tracking him down had been as easy as laying out breadcrumbs for a falkyn. Now, ten thousand in coin shined before him on the table, and the Lizard still refused to present him to the Empress. Any wicked eyes the sparkling fortune didn’t attract, Padraic’s raised voice would!

  “Pick up your coin, and move on.” Charla spoke quietly to herself, ignoring the low growl of her synthesized voice. She watched, willed Padraic to walk away. Big, brutal male guards wearing nothing but beast skin and nano-infected knives were closing in on the table. One move, one word from Lizard, and he’d be in trouble up to his well-sculpted ass. She didn’t want to have to kill half the men on the station just to keep him alive. No male was worth that much trouble.

  Charla felt the violent darkness of impending bloodshed scream into her empathic awareness, spread through the collective consciousness. Cutthroats and thieves, dealers and smugglers, all shifted their evil focus onto the man and his money. Lizard’s men were all that held them back. What was on the table would feed most of the bastards for several cycles. Like carrion, they circled the room, watching… waiting…

  “Hellsfire!” Nothing would save his coin now. Should he pocket it and walk away, the bastard thieves would follow and slit his throat before he made it to the docking station. Charla allowed herself one last, leisurely perusal of his body. Tall, his bulging thighs were shown to perfection beneath tight brown pants, massive shoulders beneath a lighter brown shirt, and his wavy black hair begged to be touched. He was even more desirable than the man she’d ridden at the Seeding, and at the time, she’d thought him nearly perfect. Hot liquid drenched her core at the memory. But this male was perfect. Something about him called to her in an elemental way… except for that temper. It was about to get him killed.

  Reluctantly, a small modicum of respect for the male crept from the deep recesses of her soul. Bad humor she understood all too well. She suffered from the same malady. Violence swirled in him. He welcomed it, welcomed the battle as an outlet for his rage. As did she. Anger had become a difficult habit to break.

  Perhaps he could handle himself in battle, but taking the chance would mean disobeying her orders. She was to deliver him safely to her queen.

  Sighing, she pulled her 5-S mask from her neck and put it in her pocket. Time to take him down. At the thought, her nipples rose to attention beneath the silken glide of her shirt. After she fought off this need to kill something, got away from this place, and forced the last of its negative energy out of her system, she could have a little fun. Padraic was just the thing she’d been craving since the Seeding Ritual. Her orders left plenty of room for interpretation. No one said she couldn’t play with this male a little on the long ride home.

  Smiling at the thought, Charla loosened her golden hair, raised her chin in challenge as it tumbled down her back, and strode through the chaos of the market square. Deep in her pocket, she wrapped her left hand around a small nano-injector. The drug would dampen his magic for a few hours, but do no lasting damage. Unlike the bots riding the moon dagger she held in her right hand, the drugs weren’t made to kill.

  Stop walking like a warrior, before you reveal yourself! Sharp and insistent, the command stung. But she allowed her chin to fall a fraction, her shoulders to depress, and her pace to slow. Her fists tightened around her weapons.

  Better.

  Who are you? she shot back.

  If you don’t know, why are you hunting me?

  Padraic?

  Taunting laughter flowed through her, caressed her body, wreaked havoc with her control. He was taunting her! The man knew he was hunted, and he’d set a trap to draw her out into the open. Well, he had a thing or two to learn about battle if he thought it this easily won. The male would be trussed up and stowed away on her Rider for her pleasure…

  I assume you have a plan? Other than ravishing me?

  Goddess, he was irritating. A plan? Not really. Just an idea…

  No? I do.

  Charla could feel his smug smile and it annoyed her.

  Just play along before you get us both killed.

  Then Padraic turned, and the brilliant blue of his eyes stole her breath. “Ah, here she is now.”

  The Lizard, his guards, and every vicious thug in the market turned their complete attention to her. Struggling to keep from slapping the satisfied smile from his face, Charla closed the distance.

  An angel of death approached him with fury simmering in her eyes. Padraic knew he’d played her. But he’d had no choice. This Moon Warrior was the one his sister had chosen to speak to. She was the one who’d been inside, seen Kamara, talked to her, touched her! He couldn’t take the chance of losing her. And even though he knew her thoughts, he couldn’t physically track her down with that damn mask she had. He’d suspected that his baby sister would place an order for protection on him, and he’d been right.

  A bodyguard had never, ever looked so good. Golden hair flowed in waves to her waist. High firm breasts teased him from beneath the flowing cape she wore. Long legs begged to be spread wide and then wrapped around him. She was tall, strong, a graceful predator with striking features and ocean blue eyes. Without a doubt, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Even better, he caught glimpses of her thoughts. Thoughts of riding his cock! The body part in question rose to attention instantly.

  “Come, dearest, and choose your gifts.” Padraic held out a hand to her, confident that his sister had planted a strong enough compulsion to ensure the warrior’s cooperation. She would do anything, anything, to keep him from getting killed.

  He was right. Smiling in return, she placed her right hand in his. Fire leapt from her touch to his skin and spread until his body ached. She stepped up to the table and nodded in the direction of the coins still sitting there, the devil’s temptation. “What have you done this time, lover?” Her voice was warm honey, sent heat pulsing through his veins. God, how powerful a weapon she would wield if ever she used the voice in earnest.

  “I bought you a gift.”

  She whirled to face him, her fiery blue eyes narrowed to slits. “What?”

  Lizard spoke from behind her. “Take your pick. He paid for two.”

  Alarmed, his warrior turned her full awareness back to him. “You bought slaves?”

  “Yes.” Padraic couldn’t resist. He pulled her tall, hard body forward, crushing her breasts to his chest. “Aren’t you going to thank me?”

  The moment she opened her mouth to protest, he claimed it with his own.

  * * *

  Lifting his leg, he forced her knees apart and rubbed her core. Padraic held her there, flexed his muscles, released, and stroked a rhythm of need to her mons with his thigh. The fire that invaded his system at her touch exploded through his bloodstream, relentless and hot. Concealed beneath her long cape, he kneaded her ass with his hands and wished they were somewhere he could rip off her pants and ram home. God, he was in pain, so rock hard he wanted to throw her on the ground and pump into her, despite the audience. Just looking at her was almost enough to make him
lose control.

  “You take two or not?” Lizard’s chuckle broke the spell at the exact moment the cold metal of her dagger pressed menacingly into his abdomen, reminding him of the danger they were both in. But his warrior didn’t respond to the slaver’s question. Every muscle in her body tensed, aching to start a brawl, to slice him open. Hovering in her mind, he knew she was a hairsbreadth away from giving in to the urge…

  Choose two. We walk out of here alive, and we save them.

  Agreed. Lightly, her hand roamed up the planes of his chest and wrapped around his neck. He felt a small prick in his skin, then swayed on his feet as a momentary jolt of pain rocketed through his brain and stole his balance. The bitch had injected him with something. Probably bots.

  Witch.

  Yes, I am. No longer was her smile forced, and she was magnificent. He wanted to slap her and devour her at the same time. Neither was an option at the moment. They needed to get the hell out of here before whatever she’d given him took him down.

  You’ve got about twenty minutes. Satisfaction purred behind the thought.

  And then?

  Her fingernail scraped over his nipple through his shirt and his chest muscles jerked in response. It’s nighty night time.

  He wasn’t sure the antidote his brother’s mate Hana had given him would work. The thought of falling prey to anyone on the station left him cold. With none of the usual Shadow stealth, he flung his consciousness toward her so he could see what she saw, hear what she heard, and know each thought the same moment she did.

  She turned to the slaver’s stage, scanning the poor lost souls on display. Decisive, she weeded out the humans who were beyond saving, settling on a young pair who still resisted Ozera’s blinding call to mate. Brother and sister. Young. Stolen from a refugee camp after their parents died. Neither had seen much more than fifteen cycles. He wasn’t sure how she knew the things she did, but he didn’t doubt she was correct.