Determined to secure the freedom of the pleasure-slave she has come to love, Guardian Captain Soleyla Devarian makes a pact with Rolen, the leader of the Antoreans. She will turn traitor to her own people, and help Rolen destroy the advance team sent to prepare his planet for colonization by the Nine-Star League. If they are successful, Rolen vows to put his people at her disposal in the final quest to gain Kantou's freedom -- by overthrowing the very League itself!
But in her single-minded dedication to Rolen's cause, will Soleyla risk losing her beloved Kantou? And can Rolen bring himself to face the terrifying rigors of the one plan Soleyla can come up with to defeat the Guardians' superior forces?
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Reviews
A Love Romances & More Staff Pick! "Ms Dafoe continues to impress with her ability to write scorching yet moving sexual encounters."
An ECataRomance Reviewer's Choice Nominee! "The reader will not be able to put this book down... The next book in this series promises to be a blockbuster!"
5 Blue Ribbons! "Breathtakingly erotic! Truly a sci-fi series that should not be missed." -- Romance Junkies
5 Flags! "Once again, Sierra Dafoe delivers steaming sensuality, and I believe surpasses her first entry in this powerful series. Readers, DO NOT MISS this book." -- Euro-Reviews
Last night Soleyla had sworn a new vow. Rashly, no doubt, but it hardly mattered. She lay, looking up at the hide ceiling of Rolen's tent, knowing that the very act of declaring rebellion against her mother was in large part what had freed her from her silent, seething fury, and felt an unaccustomed giddiness race along her limbs.
She, Soleyla Devarian, was going to overthrow the Nine-Star League.
Grinning, Soleyla slid from between the two sleeping men. Crossing to the table, she broke a hunk of sharp, pungent smelling cheese from the wedge that lay there, and washed it down with the remains of last night's wine as she glanced around the tent.
It was spacious, containing a chest in addition to the table, hand-carved chairs, and the huge pile of furs that served Rolen as a bed. More comfortable than she would have expected for a rough emergency camp.
Idly, she picked up Rolen's sword. She swung it lightly, testing the heft of it -- and then stopped, peering intently at the crossbar.
"There's just something about a naked woman with a sword in her hand."
Soleyla looked up. Rolen was watching her from the bed, one arm curled lazily behind his neck, his eyes, so deep a blue they were almost black, still heavy with sleep. The sight of his thick ebony hair, sticking out in odd directions, made her grin. "Oh, really?"
He sat up, revealing a body that was built on a Herculean scale; broad, powerful shoulders, chest like an ox, with a heavy dusting of black curls tapering to a trail down the center of a stomach that rippled like waves of iron.
That wasn't the only thing like iron this morning, Soleyla noted.
Rolen nodded at the sword. "It was my father's. And my grandfather's."
"And your grandmother's before that."
"What?" Startled, Rolen rose. Soleyla flipped the sword over and laid it on the table.
"Look." As he peered at the pommel, his forehead wrinkling in puzzlement, Soleyla laid her own sword beside it. "The lines have changed -- the pommel's shorter, the balance higher -- but this is a Guardian sword. Here." She turned her blade over as well, and Rolen's eyes widened. In the metal of both, just below the crossbar, was etched the same pattern, nine interlocking circles, and below it, a name. Bending close, Soleyla read the worn engraving. "Merrin Trafalgar. Captain. Antoros was settled by Guardians, Rolen."
"But... how? Why?"
For the same reason, Soleyla suspected, that she herself was here. "There was a ship that disappeared, the Star Strider. Two centuries ago." Her gaze rested on Kantou as she spoke, drinking him in. He'd shifted as Rolen rose, and lay now with one arm thrown over his head, his long legs flung out. He looked so innocent, so vulnerable, sleeping with his head tilted back, exposing the strong, graceful curve of his neck, that Soleyla felt a fierce stab of protectiveness.
Had Merrin Trafalgar once felt the same way? Soleyla rather suspected she had. "There was no distress signal, no emergency beacon. Nothing. The ship just disappeared." She looked at Rolen, her eyes bright. "I think Captain Merrin went renegade. She and all her crew."
"But..."
As she had, Rolen turned to study Kantou. She saw him frown slightly, perhaps remembering the unexpected ecstasy he'd discovered in another man's body. Perhaps thinking of the scars that laced Kantou's back.
Soleyla spoke softly. "Not all of us think men should be slaves, Rolen."
"I know." Rolen's voice was equally quiet, but roughened by complex emotions. It couldn't be easy, yet, for him to trust her. Not after what he'd seen the Guardians do to his men. The League's advance team had been given explicit instructions for preparing Antoros for settlement -- subdue the native population, and if they couldn't, exterminate them. Soleyla still shuddered at Rolen's tale of the three men who'd survived one of the earliest attacks, only to be raped by the entire advance team.
No, Soleyla thought, it couldn't be easy at all.
"Rolen."
He looked at her, and from the haunted expression in his eyes, Soleyla knew she was right. He had agreed to help her, had pledged his life and his men to her cause in return for her help in rescuing Antoros from the League's encroachment -- but his agreement had been born of desperation, not trust.
There was only one argument she could make, one reassurance she could give him. Soleyla raised one hand and placed it gently on Rolen's chest. His skin was warm under her hand, smooth and taut over the hard, curved muscles. "Rolen, I swear to you, by my blood and my life, if there is any way to free your planet, we will do it."
For a moment, the emotion that blazed in Rolen's eyes reminded her sharply of Kantou. The pleasure-slave had looked at her, just like this, the day she'd bought him. Torn between hope and dread, wanting so badly to believe in her, and terrified of the depth of that want.
Soleyla could think of only one way to assuage that fear. Glancing at the bed, she was glad to see that Kantou was still asleep. Better that way. This was for him, for the sake of his freedom -- but she didn't particularly want him to see what she was about to do.
Last night, Rolen had learned an appreciation of her sexuality, her desires, had submitted himself to her every wish and command. Now, the question was, did she have the courage to do the same?
Dropping her hand back to her side, Soleyla stammered, embarrassed, "I... Rolen, I don't know how to do this..."
"How to do what?"
"This."
Naked, uncertain, she stepped into his arms, tilted her head back, and kissed him lightly.
The feel of his cool, firm lips brushing against her own sent a wholly unexpected quiver through her body. He cupped her chin gently in one hand, trailing the other one through her hair.
The sensation was utterly unlike any she'd ever felt before. His touch was soft, reassuring, but at the same time determined, like a man soothing a restive horse he has every intention of riding. Something in her fluttered beneath his caress, like a startled bird wanting to fly -- but her very nervousness made her acutely aware of the roughness of his fingertips, so different from Kantou's, moving delicately over her hypersensitive skin. She shivered, feeling goose bumps rise as Rolen's hand slid down her spine to the small of her back.
