Forever One

  Forever One

  If she wanted something done right, she’d have to do it herself . . .

  AND SHE WAS going to rescue Vadyn . . . or die trying. Sheltered in one of the hall’s wings, she heavily breathed through her anger and stilled her racing heartbeat. All her life, she had been quiet and accepting, but that changed when she’d joined Vadyn. Since that momentous day, she hadn’t had one moment of peace. Such a riot of emotions filled her—completed her. She smiled briefly in memory of some of the more tumultuous moments of battle—verbal and sexual. They would have those again, she vowed and fisted her hands. The back of her neck heated further.

  She stalked to the stage while the audience died down to muttering growls. Staring without actually seeing their faces, she snapped at the crowd, “Order! Damn it, you bunch of raging beasts! I will have order!” Her yell brought the front line lieutenant around in a spin. “You all think you are mighty warriors, ha! The el’kota will surely charge you when I tell him of your dismal failure. Is this how you honor him?” She shook her fist in the air. “You are Kasara’s best! Act like it. Before it is too late—” She hesitated then added in a softer but deadlier voice, “Before it is too late for all of us. If you do not agree, you are free to leave Kasara. We do not need cowards here.” She straightened and pointed her finger into the silent crowd. “This is my command as your ly’teal and leader!” They roared at her next words. “Ready your ships. We are leaving.” Quickly, they dispersed, and she filled the lieutenants in on her plans.

  She had set the trap. Now she just needed the enemy to take the bait.

  Other ImaJinn Books by L.F. Hampton

  Winged Victory

  Winged Darkness

  Pleasure Dome

  Forever One

  by

  L.F. Hampton

  ImaJinn Books

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  ImaJinn Books

  PO BOX 300921

  Memphis, TN 38130

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-445-7

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-474-7

  ImaJinn Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

  Copyright © 2014 by Linda Gehrken as writing L.F. Hampton

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  ImaJinn Books was founded by Linda Kichline.

  We at ImaJinn Books enjoy hearing from readers. Visit our websites

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design: Debra Dixon

  Interior design: Hank Smith

  Photo/Art credits:

  Art © M. C. Krauss

  Sword © Jaguarwoman Designs

  Background (manipulated) © Evgeny Illarionov | Dreamstime.com

  :Eofv:01:

  Dedication for Forever One

  This work is dedicated to my daughters, Vanessa, Heather, and Erika, who inspire me to dream dreams and who keep me feeling young. (Although, I still don’t understand blue hair or tattoos on ladies.) Thank you, my lovelies; you’ve made me so proud.

  And as always, my special thanks goes to my hubby, Tom, who helps me fulfill my dreams; I couldn’t have done this without you.

  A special posthumous dedication goes to Linda Kichline and IMAJINN BOOKS. Thank you for all your hard work in the advancement of the industry and in furthering my writing career. RIP, my dear friend.

  It is wonderful to also say thank you to BELLEBOOKS and my new editor, Brenda Chin, who is a real peach to work with.

  Chapter 1

  THIS DISASTER WAS not how she had hoped this day would end, not by any stretch of the imagination. Cayla kicked her boot in the dirt and cursed the sucking pull of dune sand while trying her best to keep up with Vadyn. But his long strides swept him further and further ahead. Kasara’s twin suns beat down on her with restless wind-driven heat, and the fine sand shifted, slid under her boots, tripping her with every other step she took. Great. Now, she must look a sweaty, awkward fright in her disheveled silks. Not quite the picture she had hoped for when this day began.

  She glared at Vadyn’s back and tucked another annoying piece of hair behind her ear while the warlord ignored her huffing in much the same way he overlooked her glares. He’d done this all too often in the twenty-odd years they had known each other. But the thought of what he must surely be thinking of her burned her cheeks with something other than the desert’s heat. Oh, she had tried so hard to look mature and alluring today, and he was right to think her a weakling. Lives were at stake, and here she was worrying about her looks while she slowed him down. A choked sigh escaped her dry throat. Surely they were mistaken about the danger to her parents. But Vadyn didn’t appear unconcerned; he continued to pull further away in grim haste. His experienced shuffling glide skimmed the ground’s treacherous surface as if he were some wild feline padding with sheathed claws instead of warrior boots. Watching his sensual movements, another form of heat swept through her, reminding her of all her unfulfilled fantasies. Oh, blast it! Not now!

  “Vadyn, wait!” she gasped, still struggling through the sand. Her chest hurt with each breath that she puffed in and out, but when he didn’t stop, she yelled louder. “Can’t you wait for me?” Then she muttered a curse regarding arrogant warlords while swiping a forearm over her brow. Her head throbbed from the awful strain, and her thighs and the back of her calves burned. Oh, why did this awful nightmare have to happen today—on her naming day—of all days? Why was it happening at all?

  Finally, the broad-shouldered Kasar warrior stopped and turned, but she read impatience in every nuance of his wide-planted stance. Accustomed to traveling the scorching sands, the ruler of Kasara looked neither hot nor tired. Every inch a regal superior being, he fisted his knuckles against his hips and waited for her to catch up. His slanted, golden gaze regarded her with censure clearly written on his high cheek-boned face. That he was annoyed, she could clearly tell. This was not the emotion she had hoped to see on Vadyn’s face when he looked at her either. Surprised admiration or even healthy lust would be better. Far, far better. All her hours of preparation to look alluring and mature were wasted.

  “I told you to remain with the lyr-syn.” He shook his head at her, disgusted with her human frailties no doubt. He looked so composed. Only the loose blond strands that had escaped from his calte, his warrior’s braid, and swirled in the hot wind around his face, gave him a wild appearance. The muscles worked in his jaw, and she now felt as well as saw his barely held in check control. “Your parents need me, Cayla. Now—not after you’ve taken a rest.”

  Her eyes stung, but she suffered his gentle rebuke without letting tears fall. She straightened her shoulders and promised herself that no further weakness would escape her. She looked back at the heaving lyr-syn, their beautiful, fleet steeds that had so valiantly raced across the blistering desert. In the midday’s twin-sun heat, their rushing was near suicidal folly. No one on Kasara purposely braved the desert’s furnace and wasted energy with such negligence. Life and death urgency had made them reckless. Their carefree frolic had turned into a race that nearly finished them.

  The lyr-syns’ delicate hea
ds drooped, and the carved horn adorning their foreheads touched the sand. Their sides bellowed in and out with their breathing. Any further, and they would have dropped in exhaustion. She knew just how they felt. Oh, she was so weak, weak, weak. “Fine, then,” she shouted against the winds, her own hair blowing stinging tangles back in her face. She sank to her knees in the gritty sand and flicked her hand at him. “Just go on without me.” Refusing to let him see her angry humiliation, she tipped her head and sucked deep breaths in and out.

  But the warlord didn’t comment. He just waited, and after a moment, she looked up to see him gazing at her with his stoic patience. His thoughts were impossible to read, and his fierce beauty took away what little of her breath remained. Her face flamed anew. Now, he must surely think of her as a spoiled child—a child he had helped raise, no less. Under his silent regard, she drew in more shallow pants of air and swallowed against a dry throat. She wasn’t an idiot—she knew she caused the delay with her frailties. Their carefree pleasure ride, one that she had gotten him to grant in the heat of day only because it was her naming celebration, had turned into a devastating race against death—her parents’ deaths, if they didn’t reach them soon.

  And her twenty-second birth celebration should have been a day for gaiety, even romance. She had waited so long for Vadyn to notice her as a woman, and now, another opportunity was ruined. Once again, the warlord’s shared mind-connection to her mother had interrupted Cayla’s plans. But waves of shame washed over her at her selfish thoughts. She grabbed a deeper breath and coughed against lungs that still protested. A hitch in her side stole the rest of her air, and a rock seemed lodged tight against her breast bone. But she felt the urgent need for haste more than her discomfort. How long had they struggled to even reach this spot? She shaded her eyes with her hand and checked the suns’ positions. By her calculations, almost two marks ago, Vadyn had gone rigid in a mind-linked message from her mother, Elizabeth. She and Logan, Cayla’s father, fought against overwhelming odds in an oasis far ahead. Thoughts of just what they faced jacked her heart rate again.

  How had the Slytreen gotten through Kasara’s planetary shields? Better yet, why did they attack a peaceful couple having a picnic? For years, the marauding Slytreen outlaws had eluded Vadyn and the Alliance forces. Now they had surfaced right under the warlord’s nose. She jerked a quick glance at him. Not far from her, he strode back and forth across the sands with fierce impatience. She saw the rage that flowed from his corded muscles as plain as the billowing silks that draped his body and the fists he knotted at his sides. He must hate this delay, knowing what her parents were facing. He had said that at least one trio of Xeetag, a vicious reptilian race, but also members of the Alliance of Free Worlds, was helping in the Slytreen’s ambush. But why would they be attacking an ally?

  For once the damned mind-connection between her mother and the warlord of Kasara was proving useful. She resented it most times, but now wasn’t one of them. Right now, fear choked her throat better than the ever-present sand. If Vadyn was this worried, she had every reason to be terrified. But she trusted him. He was Kasara’s ruler as well as supreme warlord. He would save her parents. She heaved a deep breath and found the tight band across her chest had slightly eased. Perhaps sometime in the near future—when they were safe—she could still attract his attention. Yeah, right, perhaps—when Drakien pigs flew. She tried standing, but her booted toe caught on her robe’s hem. She tripped and jerked on the neck of the garment, bobbing her head. Oh, great, yet another graceful move. Heat warmed her face again. She quickly stepped free of her hem but still felt like such an awkward fool.

  Thankfully, Vadyn didn’t appear to notice. All his narrow-eyed attention was focused on the dunes that loomed in the distance. His second eyelids were half-closed against the wind-blown grit, and he took no notice of anything; all his attention centered internally. She knew she shouldn’t resent the connection between him and her mother, but she no longer thought of him as her adopted Kasar uncle. She had fallen in love with the warlord the moment she realized the real differences between males and females. And since then, she had dreamed of them being together one day. She knew it wasn’t hero worship as her brother, Sean, suggested. It didn’t matter that Vadyn was the warlord el’kota of Kasara or that his long, muscled body was covered in soft, velvet fur. It also didn’t matter that she was a human, or even that Vadyn still thought of her as a child. She never called him “uncle” now.

  Okaaay. Air finally swooshed back into her lungs without hurting. She had caught her breath. Her voice was rock steady. “I’m sorry, Vadyn. I’ll keep up better, I promise.” She took another quick breath. “Are they still safe?” Her stomach churned into an angry ball while she waited for his answer.

  The warlord closed his eyes. His eyelashes brushed against his cheekbones but no one would ever say they looked feminine. Lost in mind-communication, his broad face froze into severe planes and angles. Savage and deadly. Her breath caught at the sight of him so still and quiet. Finally, he opened his eyes. His glowing amber eyes flashed with her mother’s green then settled back to his gold before his gaze met hers. She read the hard resolve there in his expression, heard it even more in his growl. “They are holding their own, but laser power is getting low. We must reach them soon.”

  Disregarding Cayla’s concerned look, Vadyn’s mind-link to Elizabeth took over his chaotic thinking. Tremors raced along the connection. He felt Elizabeth’s terror. Hurry! she cried. Rage surged through him, and he roared at the distance that separated them—but he dared not leave Cayla behind. Not until he knew what other dangers lurked. He had thought in the beginning to send her back with their lyr-syns, but the new knowledge he had gained from Elizabeth changed his mind. Torn between responsibilities, he cursed himself. He needed to travel faster.

  With a deep growl, he ripped off his constricting robes, flinging them from his upper body. Clad only in a silk under-tunic that covered the tops of his legs, and with wide protective war bands encircling his wrists and biceps, he prepared for battle. With a deep breath, he brought forth vache, full warrior rage. Red heat flickered behind his eyelids. He roared at the skies. How dare the Slytreen harm his friends? Another impatient snarl escaped him as he looked out in the distance. Armed with only a short distance laser and his own natural instincts, he tensed and flexed overlapping muscles. Useless. But the mind-link brought on more battle heat that he sent to Elizabeth over the separating miles. She needed his warrior strength. He tested his claws, extending them to four-inch talons. His jaws widened over long incisors.

  In a hard grip but ever mindful of the potential harm, he clamped one hand over Cayla’s arm and pulled her to his side. A warlord noted for few speeches, he growled at her without making eye contact. “If you can’t keep up, Cayla, I swear I’ll carry you on my back. We will reach them in time.” He plowed faster over the scorching sand, not daring to look at her, not daring to stare into her beautiful blue eyes that pleaded with him to pull off a miracle.

  Thankfully, she didn’t protest his grip with childish excuses. Perhaps she was maturing after all. She certainly had looked the part today—for a time. Now, without a word, she grabbed his forearm with both her hands and pressed closer to his side. Her fingers didn’t reach halfway around, but he carried her slight weight along, close to his body. Despite his haste, he dared not leave her behind without knowing what danger had come to Kasara. Why were the Xeetag with the outlaws? Thoughts of the reptilian soldiers cooled some of his futile anger. He needed logic to win this battle, to undercover their treachery. He drew human cunning from Elizabeth’s link, but his strength came from his Kasar warrior breeding. As Kasara’s ruler, he would not fail. Could not.

  Confident in his ability, he strode quickly along. He knew the danger that surrounded Elizabeth and her mate, Logan; his link was specific. And, he chastened himself for being so foolish—he shouldn’t have been out riding with Cayla. But her female att
ractiveness had grown of late as she matured into an adult. She drew more of his attention than he should have given. Whatever was he thinking? Why, even his troops were too far away, training, on his orders, out on the plains. As Kasara’s el’kota, he should have paid more attention to the safety of his world and his people. But, over the years, he’d grown reliant on the Alliance’s security net, the shared technology of the many diverse members—technology that failed him now. Oh, the Alliance would hear of this! And of the Xeetag’s involvement! His long, low snarl did nothing to satisfy his rage.

  Logan and Elizabeth were more than just his friends. Their unusual connection had linked all of them intimately together for more than twenty-five Earth years. That mind connection should have only happened between Kasar life-mates, but he had lost his mate, Mirrah, on Earth. There, Elizabeth had saved him from suicidal death and mind-bonded with him, even though she was already mated to Logan. Unable to fully claim her physically, he, nonetheless, mentally shared everything with her, even the birthing pains of both her children, Sean and Cayla, so long ago. His heart gave an un-warrior-like leap at the memories.

  In these recent days, it was becoming harder and harder to remember that Cayla was his friends’ child, even harder to separate his thoughts of her as an unattainable female—and harder still to hide those thoughts from Cayla’s mother, mind-linked as they were. Through these long years he had shared that link with Elizabeth, but he had never taken a mate, never shared physical pleasure of his own. Perhaps there was a limit to his celibacy.

  Vadyn! Elizabeth’s mental cry jerked his attention back to the present. The Slytreen pack was closing in. Logan and Elizabeth’s laser power was running low. The bandits actually thought to hurt those that he held most dear. He snarled a vengeful roar—a promise that Slytreen would die at his hand.