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  No one—of that she felt sure.

  “Good…good night, Varin,” she whispered at last, realizing he was waiting for her to dismiss him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “All right. Good night, Mistress,” he said again and left.

  Still fighting back tears, Brynn curled on her side, pressing her face to the warm spot on the pillow where he’d been while he comforted her and she sucked him.

  But it was a long…long time before she could go back to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The next few days were incredibly tense. For one thing, Varin was excruciatingly aware of how close he was getting to the expiration of his slave chip. They were pushing the stolen ship hard—going as fast as the hyperdrive and the hydrogen-scoop engine would let them—but still they were at least a day’s flight from the Blind. And he was well aware that when they got there, they still had to go through it to get to the other side and hopefully find his people. Would he make it? He honestly didn’t know.

  But that wasn’t the only source of tension—Brynn’s nightmares had gotten worse.

  He knew because he heard her crying out in the night and when he came to wake her, he found her with tears in her eyes. It was always the same—she was shaking and crying, her skin was feverish to the touch and her scent almost unbearably hot to his sensitive nose. Clearly she was in need but now, instead of welcoming his comfort, she pushed him away, insisting she was fine.

  It made Varin’s heart fist in his chest to see her pain, yet have her deny him and send him away, refusing any comfort he could have given. He wanted desperately to take her in his arms, to dry her tears and ease the awful ache he felt inside her, but Brynn kept pushing him away.

  He wished he could confront her as he had about the way she’d been unable to help herself come. He had the feeling that problem was tied to the other—the recurring nightmares and the pain and ache he felt inside her. But for some reason, Brynn was afraid to talk to him about it and he didn’t like to push.

  Going to have to push soon, though, he told himself grimly. This problem, whatever it is, is making her sick. I can’t let her get ill if there’s something I can do to prevent it or to heal her. What if my chip gives out and she’s all alone and incapacitated? Can’t let that happen…

  That was the thought at the back of his mind during their sparring lesson when things finally came to a head. Brynn looked tired and hollow-eyed and her reflexes were off. Though she’d become quite a good fighter, she let Varin get inside her guard twice, even though he wasn’t pushing her that hard.

  Finally, he couldn’t keep his worry for her inside anymore—it came out in a burst of frustration the second time she let him land what would have been a killing blow if they’d been fighting in earnest.

  “Goddess damn it, Brynn!” he spat as he held the wooden hanger rod he was using as a training dagger to her throat. “What’s wrong with you? I could have killed you twice just now and you just let me.”

  “I didn’t mean to!” she exclaimed, pushing away from him. “I’m sorry, Varin, I’m just so tired today.”

  “You’re tired because you’re not fucking sleeping,” he growled. “I know because I hear you waking up a dozen times a night crying.”

  “I can’t help it!” Brynn shouted. “I can’t help what I dream!”

  “No, but maybe I could help you if you’d let me,” he snapped back. “If you’d ever tell me what you’re dreaming.”

  “Can’t you see it?” she demanded. “You see everything else about me.”

  “I get visions of you sometimes and I dream of what you do but I can’t see into your mind, Brynn. I can’t read your thoughts or see your dreams. Although I damn well wish I could, at least in this case.”

  Varin sighed and transferred the hanger to his mostly useless, gloved left hand so he could run his right hand through his hair.

  “I wish I knew why you’re shutting me out,” he said in a low voice.

  “I’m not shutting you out,” she denied hotly.

  “You are!” Varin snapped. “I don’t understand why you’re keeping secrets from me, Brynn. Was it something that happened at the Hive? Something you’re not telling me? Did that bastard X'izith get his barb in you after all and you were just too scared to tell me?”

  “No!” she nearly shrieked, really upset now. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and her little hands were balled into fists. “Never! He didn’t…I wouldn’t…he never…”

  Brynn shook her head, her long black hair whipping around her face. She seemed to be struggling for the right words and Varin was sorry he had pushed her. But he had to push her, Goddess damn it! Had to find out what was going on with her before it was too late!

  “Brynn…” he began but she cut him off.

  “Anyway,” she said in a shaking voice, “I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

  “What?” Varin frowned, surprised at this side-angle attack. “What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?”

  “That.” She pointed at his left hand, still encased in the brown leather glove. “Every time I ask about it you put me off—you tell me it’s a story for another time or it’s not important. I can tell something’s wrong but you won’t tell me what it is.”

  “Fine,” Varin growled. “You really want to know? Want to see what I’ve been hiding?”

  “Yes.” She put her hands on her hips and lifted her chin.

  “Then I’ll tell you—show you even,” Varin said. “But not unless you promise to come clean with me too. Tell me about the nightmares. Tell me what’s bothering you, Brynn. Please.”

  Her face went pale and for a moment he thought she would shout at him again or back down.

  Instead she took a deep breath and crossed her arms protectively over her breasts.

  “I’ll…think about it.”

  That seemed to be the best he was going to get so Varin decided to take it.

  “All right.” With a sigh, he thumbed the button that made the long, low couch come out of the wall. He dropped onto it, getting settled at one end and motioned for Brynn to join him.

  She did, sitting a careful distance from him that hurt his heart. Was she scared of him now? Or was there some other reason she was avoiding him? What was happening with her?

  Well, he would never find out her secret unless he told her his first, Varin reasoned. He held up his gloved left hand and raised an eyebrow at her.

  “You sure you want to see this?”

  “Show me,” she said in a low voice and he saw that her own hands were clenched together tight in her lap.

  Varin sighed again. He’d been hoping to avoid this moment but now he saw it couldn’t have been avoided forever—only put off. And he had put it off long enough. With quick, jerky motions he stripped off the brown leather glove, showing the mangled remains of his left hand.

  It really didn’t look as bad as it had at first. The thumb and forefinger had almost completely regrown, making it at least marginally useful, though it was still very weak. The rest of the hand, however, including his middle, ring, and little finger had never managed to regrow. It looked a little like someone had chopped his hand in half, leaving only the first two digits intact.

  Brynn gave a little gasp at the sight of his mangled limb and put her hand to her mouth.

  “Oh, Varin—what happened?” She frowned at him. “And don’t you dare say it’s a long story or a story for another time!”

  “Fine,” he said shortly. “It was on the slave ship—the one your mother sold me to. They had us manacled to the wall of the hold with titano-silver bands—completely unbreakable. I know because I tried—I stole a blaster off one of the slavers and shot at the damn thing—didn’t so much as scratch it.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Then how…how did this happen?”

  “I had to get out somehow and I didn’t have any other choice. So…” Varin rubbed the back of his neck. “I shot it off—my hand, I mea