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  Tragar finished leveling out the shuttle and started at her, amazed.

  “Your Kit’tara is part of you, Emily—not some enemy trying to take over.”

  “That’s exactly what she is—the enemy!” She looked at him, wild eyed with worry. “Tell me how to get rid of her—tell me how to stop this if you know so much!”

  “I don’t know about stopping it but you might want to avoid getting upset,” he said, frowning. “Extreme stress brings the Kit’tara forward and speeds up the stages of Tenrah.”

  “Great.” She sank back into her seat with a groan and put a hand over her eyes. “There are stages now?”

  “Four stages to be exact.” Tragar threw a glance at her. “I am hoping very much that you are still in the first stage—Kalor.”

  “And if I’m not?” She looked at him. “How would I even know?”

  “You’d be able to tell.” He frowned. “Are your breasts swollen and tender?”

  “What?” She crossed her arms over her chest protectively. “My breasts are…are just fine. What are you talking about?”

  “Just trying to answer your question.” And his own question as well. Clearly she was able to touch her breasts with ease and there was no pain on her face as she hugged herself tightly. Also, he had seen no tell-tale stains across the front of her chest. Obviously she was not moving from Kalor to Scintil just yet. Thank the Goddess for small favors.

  “So if I’m still in kajor—”

  “Kalor,” he corrected, setting a flight path through the blackness of space towards his ship which was in deep orbit around the Earth.

  “Okay, so Kalor. How do I get out of it? How do I stop it?” Emily demanded.

  “Again, I do not believe there is any stopping it. But it is said that Kalor can be held off for a time. There are…ways.”

  “What ways?” Emily demanded but Tragar only shook his head. The methods he had been taught were theory only—nothing he had ever expected to actually have to practice. And even if he was called upon to implement them, he didn’t know if he could. It was not for such as him to treat a Khalla in those ways—not unless it was a dire emergency.

  * * * * *

  “Tell me how to stop it, please!” Emily begged again but the big Kindred remained obstinately silent. He piloted the small car which had somehow become a spacecraft and looked straight ahead, staring at the complicated array of instruments in front of him.

  Emily sighed in frustration and crossed her arms over her chest. Was it possible—could she really be this Khalla thing he was talking about? And if so, was that the reason someone wanted to kill her?

  Even a month ago the idea would have been preposterous. But a month ago she hadn’t known she was adopted. And the heat waves, the dreams, the flashes of the other in the mirror had been far back in her past—easy to forget, easy to sweep under the rug along with the memory of what Grayson had done to her. Now they weren’t so easy to deny.

  But that wasn’t the first thing the big Kindred—Tragar, he said his name was Tragar—had noted when he said she was a female of his kind. He said I smell! Emily thought indignantly. Which was clearly ridiculous—she took a shower every morning and a bubble bath every night before bed to relax. She was a very clean person.

  She shifted away from him and ducked her head a little, pretending to stare out the window at the velvety blackness of space. Earth was no more than a large blue marble in the sky now—a frightening prospect if she let herself think about it. Emily didn’t let herself. Instead she ducked her head further and inhaled surreptitiously, trying to see if she could smell what he was talking about.

  A scent did come to her nose but it clearly wasn’t hers. Warm and enticing, it smelled like leather and spice and coffee and smoke. Not cigarette smoke, though—it was the scent of a campfire at night out under the clear, icy sky when the stars look as bright as stolen diamonds.

  It was a dark, dangerous scent—more of a warning than an invitation and yet it drew her. Drew her deeply to its source.

  A male, whispered the voice of the other, just as it had so many years ago. A male—we need a male.

  Yes. Emily turned to the big Kindred, feeling the heated waves wash over her, the liquid warmth between her thighs. Her eyes were burning and her nipples were suddenly tight with desire.

  “Tragar?” she murmured.

  “Yes?” He spared her a quick glance and then his eyes widened. “Khalla, your eyes—remember I told you to stay calm.”

  “I’m calm.” Emily leaned towards him and inhaled deeply, pulling in breaths of his dark, dangerous scent. “You asked me if I had any dreams,” she murmured, looking up at him. “Well, I think I had a dream about you. I’m only remembering it just now but I think I saw you in the mirror—long black hair…golden eyes.”

  “You cannot have dreamed of me,” he protested, frowning. “That would mean—” he stopped abruptly.

  “It would mean what?” Emily leaned closer to him, deliberately invading his space. She never would have done such a thing normally but the other was coming forward, urging her, riding her, filling her with lust and every breath of his warm, masculine scent only fed the fire burning inside her.

  Her proximity seemed to disturb him for he turned his gaze back to the viewscreen at the front of the shuttle and stared fixedly ahead at the sleek silver spaceship they were fast approaching.

  “Never mind. It means nothing.”

  “Seems to mean something.” She slid one hand up his thigh, clad in tight black leather trousers, and felt his muscles go rock hard under her touch. Somewhere inside herself, Emily wondered where she had gotten the nerve to do such a thing—it wasn’t like her at all to come on to a complete stranger like this. But somehow the impulse was too strong to deny. She slid her hand higher, enjoying the feel of his big, muscular body.

  “Don’t,” he growled, taking her hand and putting it firmly back in her own lap. “You must not. Your scent makes being in close proximity difficult enough as it is.”

  “You smell pretty good yourself,” Emily purred, leaning close to him again and taking a deep breath. “Damn good.”

  He gave a sort of frustrated growl and she saw a muscle in the side of his jaw clench as though he was holding himself back.

  “You must stop. This kind of…of stress will cause you to move from Kalor to Scintil. It is dangerous…wrong.”

  “What’s so wrong about it?” They were docking with the big silver ship now but she barely noticed the vibration as metal kissed metal. The other was in full control of her now, just as she had been that fateful night in the bar with Grayson. It was urging her onward, telling her she wanted this…needed this…

  “We’ve arrived.” The big Kindred sounded immensely relieved as he got up quickly and walked to the back of the shuttle. An airlock was already irising open to show the clean, metal and glass utilitarian interior of his ship.

  Emily rose and followed him, her fingers itching to touch his broad back and shoulders, not to mention the tight, muscular ass she saw working beneath his leather flight trousers.

  “The air inside the shuttle is close and not very well filtered,” he said, stepping up to get from the shuttle to the ship. He turned and offered a hand to Emily. “You should feel better here—there is much more efficient filtration so scents are not so…strong. So distracting.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Her palm tingled again as they touched and she felt the waves of heat intensifying as his big hand engulfed hers. He pulled her up and into the ship but somehow the momentum carried her forward and she wound up in his arms which was exactly where the other wanted them to be.

  Emily stood on tiptoes to wind her fingers through his long black hair. She could feel his hard chest pressed against her breasts and further down, something else that was long and hard and hot was branding her thigh. Hmm, so she wasn’t the only one feeling this.

  “Stop!” The Kindred’s low growl carried a depth of warning Emily knew she shouldn’t ignore. But the other