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  “No! I am the head of the Holy Council and my word is law. You shall never enter the breeding suite. Guards!”

  “I don’t think so,” a new voice said. Solar and Rone were suddenly standing on either side of the High Priestess, pointing blasters at her. The Temple Guards, who had started to approach, halted in their steps.

  “One more step and the High Priestess here gets it,” Solar pushed his blaster into her back menacingly.

  “You cannot mean that,” one of the guards said in a choked voice. “It is blasphemy for any Kindred male to attack a female—especially a priestess!”

  “Well, I’m not Kindred—I’m Havoc,” he shot back. “And the priestess here won’t get hurt as long as she doesn’t try to stop Emily from doing what she needs to do.”

  “Thank you!” Emily looked at Solar and Rone gratefully. “What I need right now is for someone to help me get Tragar into the breeding suite before it’s too late.”

  “I can’t carry him that far alone,” Daro added.

  “I’ll help,” Rone told him. He nodded at Solar. “Just keep your blaster on the High Priestess there until this whole business is over—one way or another.”

  “With pleasure,” Solar growled. “Come on, your holiness—I think it’s time you and I took a little walk.”

  To Emily’s surprise, Mother Chundra started laughing—a low evil cackle that scraped at her nerves.

  “Fine,” she said, still laughing. “Take the filthy, inferior male to the Temple. But you will never find the breeding suite! It is hidden from all but the eyes of a few. Only myself or a priestess who serves the Khalla-to-be directly can see it.”

  “Tell us where it is!” Solar dug the muzzle of his blaster into her back but she only cackled again.

  “I’ll never tell you! And neither will anyone else.”

  “I will.” Lit’aal stepped forward. Her cheeks were still stained with tears but she looked determined.

  “You…” Mother Chundra’s face went dark as a thundercloud. “You wouldn’t dare! I will have you excommunicated, you ungrateful little bitch!”

  “I don’t care,” Lit’aal lifted her chin defiantly. “I was planning to leave the order anyway so that Daro and I can be together.”

  “A candidate must remain celibate the rest of his life if he is not chosen by a Khalla-to-be—you know that!” Mother Chundra declared. “I’ll damn you both in the eyes of the Goddess if you dare to do such a thing!”

  “We cannot argue with her now,” Daro told Lit’aal who looked like she wanted to slap the High Priestess. “This whole exchange has cost too much precious time already—we have only minutes to save Tragar. Look—already his breathing is becoming labored!”

  “Hurry!” Emily exclaimed. “Come on, Lit’aal, lead the way!”

  “Yes, my Khalla.”

  Lit’aal raced ahead of Daro and Rone who were carrying the limp Tragar between them as rapidly as they could. Solar stayed behind, keeping the High Priestess hostage. Emily could feel her glaring daggers at her back but she didn’t care. All she cared about was saving Tragar.

  She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “Put him down on the bed,” Emily directed after Lit’aal opened the hidden door that led to the breeding suite. Mother Chundra had been right—they never would have found it without someone to show them. To the untrained eye, the door simply looked like part of the tall, white wall on either side of it. But once it opened, an amazing space was suddenly revealed.

  The entire room was covered in small, pink blossoms. It reminded Emily a little of Saskia’a flower bed she and Tragar had slept in on the Wulven Kindred home world. But in this case it wasn’t just the bed—the lovesuckle blossoms covered every available surface. Walls, floors, ceilings, and every piece of furniture in the room were entirely overgrown with them. They varied in shade from the palest blush pink to the deepest rose red and every hue in between. They also gave off a sweet, light scent that seemed to do strange things to Emily.

  As she breathed it in, she could feel her breasts aching and her pussy felt so swollen she thought she would die if she wasn’t filled soon. I need to be bred, she thought and knew it was true. If she didn’t have a male make love to her soon and spill his seed deep in her womb, she would literally perish.

  But Tragar was the only male she wanted and he was unconscious—possibly dying on the flower covered bed. Could she heal him?

  There was only one way to find out.

  “My Khalla, is there anything else that you require?” Lit’aal asked her anxiously after they had gotten Tragar positioned.

  “Just privacy,” Emily said grimly. “I need to be alone with my chosen mate.”

  “Khalla, forgive me, but he is very far gone,” Daro told her gently. “If you should be unable to revive him…do you wish me to send for another of the candidates to stand outside the door just in case you are in need and Tragar cannot…er, service you?”

  “No!” Emily shook her head firmly. “No, this is a do or die situation. If I can’t have Tragar, I don’t want anyone. Now everyone go—please! Every moment counts.”

  “She’s right. We must leave her to her fate.” Daro nodded and led the other two out of the breeding suite.

  “We will pray for you, my Khalla!” Lit’aal said. Then she shut the door and Emily was alone with the barely breathing Tragar, lying on the bed.

  No—not barely breathing—he’s not breathing at all!

  Emily gasped and ran to him. Her premonition was true—the broad, muscular chest no longer rose and fell. With shaking hands, she put two fingers to the side of his throat searching for a pulse, just as she’d been taught to do in CPR class.

  Nothing.

  “Oh God, oh no—no, you can’t be dead. You can’t! Tragar please!” She pounded on his broad chest, her eyes hot with tears. “Please, don’t be gone—please, I love you!”

  Stop, whispered a familiar voice inside her head. It was the other—Emallia, Emily realized but she no longer sounded like a different entity. She was a natural part of Emily now that they had merged and Emily sensed she had something important to say.

  This isn’t how to save him, Emallia told her. Remember, it is the blood or the nectar of a Khalla which may reverse death. Nothing else.

  Of course! Emily looked around for something to cut herself with and came up short. There was nothing sharp in the flower-covered room. Everything was soft and covered in a blanket of the pink blossoms.

  It would have to be nectar then—her breasts were certainly full enough. Quickly, she ripped open the dark red kimono-type robe she’d been wearing and pulled up the white slip to bare her breasts.

  But how was she going to get the nectar out? Before, Tragar had had to suck it out of her and he was in no position to do that now. What was she going to do if her nectar still wouldn’t flow?

  It will flow, whispered Emallia in her head. Get next to him, let his skin touch yours.

  Trembling and praying she was right, Emily sat on the bed beside the big Kindred and leaned over him so that her bare breasts hung like ripe fruit in his face. Still nothing happened.

  Please, she thought. Oh, please, Goddess if you’re really there, help me save him! He’s the man I love, the only one I want. I know you put us together so please…

  She pressed one swollen nipple to his slightly parted lips…

  Suddenly it was as though something released deep inside her. A droplet of amber nectar began to grow on the tip of her nipple. The drop became a trickle and the trickle became a steady flow. Slowly the rich, amber liquid filled Tragar’s mouth…and began to dribble out from the corners.

  “Tragar—Tragar, please,” Emily begged him softly. “Please don’t let it be too late! Please!”

  And then the big Kindred swallowed convulsively and his chest began to move again.

  Emily nearly cried in relief. She filled his mouth with nectar again and again and every time he swallowed, more colo