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  “I only did what was necessary to help you get over the effects of the sex-milk,” Shad said shortly. “I’m sorry if you interpreted it to mean…more than it was.”

  Then he left because he knew if he stayed the truth would come out and he wouldn’t be able to hide how he felt for her. As much as he tried not to, how he still loved her.

  Chapter Twelve

  After he left, Harper cried.

  She didn’t want to do it—she hated crying. It made her feel girly and weak and out of control—just the worst. But the intense physical connection she’d shared with Shad—or thought she’d shared anyway—had leaked away leaving only a horrible feeling of rejection in its place.

  Did I do something to turn him off? Something to disgust him or make him angry? she asked herself as she huddled on the bed in a ball of misery. Why would he act like he cared—like he loved me—one minute and then be so cold and businesslike the next?

  She had no answers and after a while, it became clear she wasn’t going to find any lying on the bed crying.

  “Stop it, Harper,” she said out loud, forcing herself to sit up on the big round bed. “Stop it and pull yourself together. This isn’t on you—Shad is the one being a jerk.”

  Hearing the words aloud made her feel better even if she wasn’t completely convinced they were true. She told herself it was just difficult to go from being so intensely intimate with a man back to being acquaintances all in the space of a few heartbeats.

  Anyway, that’s all you are—acquaintances, she tried to tell herself. You haven’t even known him a whole day yet.

  So then why did it feel like she’d known the big Kindred forever? And why did she have the feeling that she’d let him into her heart a long time ago and there was no getting him out again?

  Ignoring these maudlin feelings, Harper forced herself to get off the bed and go back into the huge marble bathroom. She checked herself in the 5-way mist mirror and was relieved to see that her breasts were back to their normal size and not even a drop of nectar came from her nipples when she squeezed.

  Shad was right—I really am cured. She felt a rush of relief and gratitude towards the big Kindred…closely followed by a stab of anger and hurt. How dare he…

  Her thoughts derailed abruptly. How dare he what? Cure her and then leave her? Save her from a horrible fate and then get on with his life?

  Well if he can get on with his life, I can damn well get on with mine, too, Harper told herself firmly. No more mooning over a man who I can’t have—who clearly doesn’t want me. It’s time to get serious about getting myself changed so I’m no longer a ten’sora and getting back home to my real life on Earth.

  “Besides,” she told her reflection out loud. “You’re an Empress now—remember? So act like it!”

  Taking her own advice, she decided the first thing to do was to take a shower in the massive shower stall—which took up one whole side of the room—and wash the rest of the nectar and the just-had-sex sweat off her skin. At least, she assumed it was a shower stall—she saw silver nozzles inset on the ceiling and walls and even the floor but no obvious controls to start the flow of water.

  “Well, they have to be in here somewhere,” Harper muttered to herself, dropping her robe as she stepped in. “I’ll just—oh!”

  Her words ended in a gasp because the moment she stepped all the way into the long rectangular stall, warm water sprayed her from all sides and also rained down from above, drenching her immediately. Harper gasped—it was like being caught in a perfectly temperature-controlled rainstorm. It felt nice but it was also pretty shocking since she hadn’t been expecting it.

  She had been planning to try and keep her hair dry but there was no way now—it was as wet as the rest of her. Well crap—what was she going to do? Her mixed-girl curly hair wasn’t just wash and go like some of her white friends—it required very specific care and products to keep it from frizzing or breaking.

  Wiping water out of her eyes, Harper was startled to see a shelf protruding from the shower wall which she hadn’t noticed earlier. On it, were a familiar array of bottles and tubes—all her favorite hair care products from Earth were here!

  “Wow!” she muttered, picking up a tube of Miss Jessie’s Multicultural Curls. “I can’t believe they have this here.” The Master forger must have gotten some of the things she liked and needed out of her own head when he crafted the space yacht for her, she reasoned as she squeezed some product into the palm of her hand and began to rub it into her hair. It was the only explanation for the hair products, the deluxe bathing and sleeping facilities, and the wardrobe filled with clothes.

  I can have anything I want here—everything I’ve ever daydreamed about is right here aboard this ship and it’s all mine, Harper realized.

  So why did she still feel so unhappy?

  “Because you’re being stupid,” she told herself out loud, rubbing her scalp vigorously. “Which is what you need to stop right now.”

  Still, it was hard to get over what had just happened between herself and the big Kindred. What was all that mess with him telling her his whole life was devoted to her and making her look into his eyes while he made her come?

  He messed with my head, Harper thought as she rinsed her hair and reached for another bottle. Messed with my head and messed with my heart. Well, if I get a chance I’m going to mess with him right back.

  Feeling angry was easier and safer than feeling hurt and used and unloved—she decided to stick with that emotion and run with it. She held her head high as she finally finished in the shower and stepped out onto the soft white furry rug which seemed to suck all the moisture away from her body in a downward drawing motion. She hardly needed the big, fluffy towels which were piled in an elegant stack on a small golden pedestal located to the right of the shower door.

  She took one anyway because she liked the feel of the soft fabric against her skin and patted herself dry. It was time to check out her closet and see what an Empress wore—time to forget about Shad and focus on the matter at hand.

  Getting done with all this mess so she could get home and forget him.

  * * * * *

  “Come in,” Harper called when she heard a knock on the door of her vast, opulent bedroom. She’d been looking at the dresses in the wardrobe and trying some of them on. All of them fit her to a T although most were a good deal more revealing than she would have liked. Still, she looked amazingly hot in them which was nice—after what had happened with Shad, she needed a shot of self- confidence.

  It had been almost a week since the big Kindred had helped cure her of the sex-milk symptoms and Harper estimated he hadn’t said ten words to her since, not even at meals, which was pretty much the only time she saw him.

  Shad’s excuse for this was that she had to learn to act like an Empress and since he was supposed to be only her bodyguard, he naturally wouldn’t be chit-chatting with her at the dinner table. No, his job was to stand behind her chair and look imposing while he watched for possible threats. Harper’s job was to eat daintily and looked perfect and posh and royal.

  They both practiced their roles at every meal which was how Harper found herself sitting alone at a long perfectly polished dark wood table eating from golden plates and drinking from golden cups and not tasting a thing because she could feel Shad standing behind her chair while they didn’t exchange a word.

  It was miserable but it was also the only time she got to see the big Kindred. Harper spent the rest of the time in her room, reading or watching vids on the Interweb. What else could she do?

  Whoever it was knocked on the door again and Harper frowned. Sometimes the clone-maids who waited on her were a little too deferential and hesitant.

  “I said you can come in,” she called.

  A male servant in black and silver livery opened the door and bowed low before her.

  “My Empress, we are approaching Pelegiez-R where She Who Alters holds court,” he said, speaking deferentially to her feet,
since it was apparently rude to raise his eyes higher than her ankles.

  Harper felt her stomach flutter. She thought this past week in space where she and Shad were hardly speaking had been the longest of her life—but now it felt like the shortest. Was she really going to try and fool a Goddess into changing her so that the Hive could no longer use her as a pawn in this game of time travel and genocide?

  Apparently she was.

  “Well then…” She cleared her throat and tried to sound like an Empress. “Bring us in for a landing. And inform whoever is in charge that I—I mean we— seek an audience with She Who Alters at her earliest possible convenience.”

  There—that sounded sufficiently royal, didn’t it? She’d even used the royal “we”.

  “Of course, my Empress.” The servant bowed low and backed away, closing the door behind him. Harper watched him go with a flutter of apprehension around her heart.

  God, what had she gotten herself into?

  * * * * *

  What had he gotten them into? Shad frowned at the face on the viewscreen mounted at the head of the bridge on the royal space yacht.

  An older female with thin, spidery eyebrows and a disapproving expression on her face glared at Harper from the screen. She styled herself “the social secretary to She Who Alters” and apparently any and all who wished to see the Goddess had to go through her. If Harper didn’t impress her, finishing this mission successfully would be damn near impossible. Was she up to it?

  Shad hoped so but he wasn’t sure. They’d been practicing their roles of Empress and bodyguard at every meal and he’d watched as she ordered the servants around as a true ruler would but could she fool someone who was used to dealing with the royalty of the galaxy?

  Admit it, whispered a voice in his head. All this “practicing” you’ve been making Harper do has just been an excuse not to speak to her—not to get too close.

  It was true—the artificial barrier he’d put between them—that of a bodyguard to his Mistress—made it easier not to have informal conversations with Harper—easier not to take her in his arms and make love to her as he so desperately longed to do.

  But he’d already let himself get too close when he was curing her of the effects of the sex-milk, Shad told himself. He had to regain the distance he’d lost and the pose of an aloof and stand-offish bodyguard worked in that regard.

  Of course, he’d seen the hurt in Harper’s eyes and the anger too. He didn’t blame her if she hated him now. He’d made what could have been a quick healing into an act of almost unbearable intimacy. His heart ached to make things right with her but he knew he couldn’t. Better to just pretend he was the bodyguard he was playing—and guard her body even if he’d broken her heart.

  “Well now,” the social secretary said, glaring down the bony bridge of her nose at Harper and breaking his guilty train of thought. “I don’t usually grant immediate audiences with She Who Alters to anyone but I’m told you are an Empress?”

  Harper, who was wearing her rainbow colored cloak of thorns, lifted her chin and looked coolly at the older female, who reminded Shad more and more of a praying mantis.

  “We are the Empress Kyreella of Gobesh Prime of the Chavesh-Hie System,” she said clearly and disdainfully. “As we trust you were informed by our ship’s communications officer? If not then he must be disciplined.” She glared at the male in question, who wore the black and silver livery Master Yll-no had provided for all the servants.

  The communications officer, in turn, groveled humbly—and convincingly, Shad thought.

  “I have so informed the social secretary to the Goddess, my Empress,” he said quickly. “As I have told her that you must have an audience with She Who Alters at the earliest possible convenience.”

  “Yes, yes—so I understand,” the social secretary snapped. “You know, Empress, we have some supplicants who have waited years to stand in the glory of She Who Alters.”

  “We are afraid we do not have years, Madam Secretary,” Harper responded loftily. “Our business is most urgent and quite pressing.”

  Shad couldn’t help casting a covert glance of admiration at her. She was pulling this off beautifully—acting the part of a rich and entitled ruler with flair. Then again, hadn’t she told him she’d had dramatics classes in high school? Maybe that was what accounted for her excellent role playing.

  “Yes, well…the amount I was offered to move you to the front of the waiting list was quite impressive,” the social secretary admitted grudgingly. “Though of course, without your royal status, no amount would be sufficient.”

  So Master Yll-no had been right in crafting a royal persona for Harper, Shad thought. Without the royal subterfuge, they would have had no chance of seeing the Goddess. He just hoped it, along with the bribe they had offered, would be enough.

  “We trust you can understand our need to seek the wisdom of She Who Alters,” Harper remarked. “Our most urgent need.”

  “Yes, yes—of course.” The praying mantis-social secretary nodded, as though making a final decision. “I will book you into her next available slot. But first, of course, you must be cleansed.”

  “Cleansed?” Harper raised one eyebrow, her green eyes flashing imperiously. “Are you insinuating that we are not clean?”

  “By no means, your highness!” The social secretary looked shocked. “But everyone who has an audience with the Goddess must enter the Cleansing Waters and be bathed in purity and light. Now then, I will assign you a personal bathing attendant to see to all your needs while you visit our Cleansing Baths—”

  “I am her personal attendant,” Shad growled, stepping forward to glare at the viewscreen. “The Empress goes nowhere without me to guard her every step.”

  Harper gave him a sour look—almost as though she was thinking of disputing his claim. But then, reluctantly, she nodded.

  “This is true.”

  “And does this male see to all your physical needs, your highness?” the social secretary asked, speaking to Harper rather than Shad. “Or should I assign a sexual attendant to work in conjunction with him?”

  For the first time, Harper’s royal façade faltered.

  “Um…a sexual attendant?” she asked uncertainly. “Why would I—I mean we—need something like that?”

  “You cannot go before She Who Alters with any unfulfilled bodily desires,” the social secretary exclaimed. “The Goddess senses what it is about you that you is lacking—what you need to have changed or altered—and makes the change in question. It is unwise to go before her when you are hungry in any way—emotionally, physically, sexually, or in any other capacity.”

  “I see.” Harper nodded thoughtfully. “So this attendant…he would be certain that all our royal needs were fulfilled?”

  “Indeed.” The secretary nodded. “Shall I assign one to you? Would you prefer a smaller male of the higher order or a larger male of the lower order? I believe we have a few even bigger than your bodyguard there, though the larger they grow, the less intelligent they are, mores the pity.” She made a face as she regarded Shad. “Still, all our sexual attendants have been well trained and it’s not as if you choose a male for his intellect, is it?” She raised one spidery eyebrow and laughed delicately.

  Shad could see where this was going. If he didn’t intervene, this insectile secretary would assign some strange male to pleasure Harper. The very thought made a growl rise in his throat and every muscle in his body tight.

  Mine—she’s mine and no one else is going to lay a fucking hand on her!

  It was an irrational feeling and Shad knew it. He ought to be doing everything he could to put distance between himself and Harper—ought to keep his hands strictly to himself. But he couldn’t stop the visceral response to the idea of seeing another male put his hands on her.

  He became aware that he was wanting her—wanting to claim her, to mark her as he had avoided doing for so long. No matter how many times they went through the time loop, no matter how many
paths they took, he never allowed himself to make love to her completely—never allowed himself to sink his shaft deep into her tight pussy and fill her with his seed.

  It was all he wanted to do now, as he watched her sitting on the golden throne which was set in the middle of the bridge. She was wearing a dress of scarlet that made her creamy brown skin glow and he could see the swells of her breasts rising from the bodice. He remembered sucking her tight nipples, drinking the sweet nectar she had made while he finger-fucked her hot little pussy and she moaned and writhed in his lap. Gods, how he wanted her…

  “I am also my lady’s sexual attendant,” he growled, glowering at the Goddess’s secretary. “I and no other may touch her body in an intimate situation. No other may lay hands on her.”

  Harper and the secretary both looked at him in apparent surprise.

  “Empress, is this true?” the secretary asked.

  For a moment Harper hesitated and Shad was afraid she would deny his claim and let some other male service her instead. Damn it, if she did that…his hands balled into fists and another growl rose in his throat.

  But at last, she nodded regally.

  “It is true. There have been several attempts on our royal life and so, only one who is loyal unto death, as is my bodyguard Shadow here, can attend us and lay hands on our royal person.”

  “Very well.” There was a sour look on the social secretary’s face, as though she didn’t quite approve of this but couldn’t think of any way to refute it. “Then the two of you must come down to the entrance of our Cleansing Baths that you may take the waters and be cleansed of your desires and needs before you stand in the light of She Who Alters.”

  “We will be there at once,” Harper said, nodding. “Give the landing coordinates to the navigation officer, if you please, Madam Secretary.”

  “Of course.” The secretary bowed her head with the exact amount of deference required—no more, no less. “We look forward to hosting your esteemed personage, Empress,” she said.