Burning for Love (Kindred Tales)

Taking a deep breath, Rissa straightened her shoulders and stepped into the large room, filled with interstellar communications equipment.

“Private!” she said sternly.

The young man, who had been almost dozing, jerked to attention. When he saw who was addressing him, his eyes went wide and he jumped up and saluted.

“Princess! Er, Your Majesty.” His eyes ran over her body in the revealing white peignoir and his face went beet red as he quickly looked back at her face. “T-to what do I owe this honor?” he stammered.

“I need you to make an interstellar call for me at once,” Rissa said sternly. She kept her chin high and didn’t attempt to cover herself. She was in Royal mode now and she made certain he knew it.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty—at once! Of course!” He sat back at the console and looked up at her expectantly. “Whom shall I call for Your Majesty?”

“The Kindred Mother Ship,” Rissa said. “And make certain you use a private channel. This call is highly confidential.”

53

Sylvan was wrapping things up for the night, straightening his desk and trying to leave things organized for an early start the next day. Sophia had just given him a mental call through their link, asking if he would be home soon, and he had been happy to tell her “yes.”

“Good, because I saved you some supper,” she’d told him. Then a naughty tone had come into her mental voice. “And if you’d like something sweet for dessert, well…I have that all ready for you, too.”

Just the thought of holding his curvy wife in his arms was enough to make Sylvan rush to get through his last-minute tasks. He reflected how lucky and blessed he was to have Sophia to come home to. Even after many years of marriage—or Joining, as the Kindred called it—he still loved her and wanted her as badly as he had when they had first come together.

He was so focused on getting back to his suite and his mate that he almost ignored the call that came through on his viewscreen. Whatever it was, he was certain it could wait. Probably some routine matter that could be dealt with the next day.

Then the Communications officer buzzed in over the com-link.

“Commander Sylvan? There is an urgent call for you coming in over a private line.”

“A private line?” Sylvan frowned. A secure, private interstellar link was enormously expensive to maintain and operate. Who could be calling him on such a line? “Where is the call coming from?” he asked.

“From Regalia Five—the caller says it’s urgent,” the officer told him.

Sylvan sighed. Well, so much for getting home in time for dinner. He just had to hope that this call didn’t take so long that he missed his “dessert” too.

“All right,” he said. “Put it through.”

The viewscreen flickered and a young woman’s face appeared. With a shock, Sylvan recognized her as Princess Ka’rissa, the Royal female he had sent J-8 to protect.

“Princess,” he said blankly. “Er, hello.”

“Commander Sylvan, how very good of you to take my call.” Her manners were impeccable but there was a frantic look in her large, amber-brown eyes that worried Sylvan.

“Of course,” he said, nodding. “How may I be of service?”

She took a deep breath and her eyes darted from side to side, as though she was making sure no one was listening. She looked, Sylvan thought, like a female who was being hunted.

“Commander,” she said urgently. “I…I need to ask you for a great favor.”

“Yes, of course. Please…” Sylvan made a gesture for her to go on.

“I need political asylum aboard the Mother Ship,” she told him.

“You do?” Sylvan frowned. “Has something happened?”

“A great many things have happened, none of them good,” the Princess said. “I am in great danger. But…” She paused, biting her lower lip in a worried way.

“Go on,” Sylvan said gently.

“Well, I fear that anyone you send to get me will also be in danger,” she whispered.

“From guards trying to keep you on the planet, do you mean?” Sylvan asked, frowning.

She shook her head and dropped her eyes, as though she was ashamed of something.

“No, Commander. It is…my Heat Cycle. I fear I am very near self-immolation with no way to…to, er, remedy the situation. I cannot lie—asking any of your officers to come and get me might be akin to asking them to transport a bomb that might go off at any moment.”

“A bomb?” Sylvan frowned. “I—”

At that moment, his office door burst open.

“Commander!” It was J-8 and he was panting, as though he had run a marathon to get there. “Commander, I have just received a message from the Goddess,” he began. Then he looked up and saw Princess Ka’rissa’s face on the viewscreen. “Ka’rissa!” he exclaimed.

“Oh, James!” she whispered and burst out crying. “James, I know you have no emotions for me, but I am so afraid I am going to die tonight!” she sobbed.