When Mercy woke at dawn to find herself alone in the cabin, she considered it a blessing. How could she have faced Judah in the cold light of day and accepted the fact that they were no longer lovers but once again bitter enemies? She crawled out of bed, dragging the top sheet with her to cover her naked body and protect her from the early morning chill. As she made her way to the bathroom, she stepped on the dress that Judah had sliced in two last night.
She would have to mend it.
As she picked up the tattered garment, just the feel of it beneath her fingertips set off her empathic powers. The cotton material held fragments of her own energy and all the emotions she had experienced when Judah’s cold, penetrating glare had cut her clothes apart. Anger. Fear. Desire.
She hugged the fabric to her and buried her face in its softness as she relived the experience of Judah overpowering her and taking her savagely on the hard ground.
Carrying the dress with her, Mercy went into the bathroom, where she relieved herself, then washed her hands and splattered cold water in her face. She had the look of a woman who had spent the night making love.
Stop thinking about Judah, about the hours of pleasure you shared, about how much you love him.
Mercy lifted her dress from the hook on the back of the door, where she’d left it, closed the commode lid, readjusted the sheet around her chest and sat down. Fixing her gaze on the repair job at hand, she concentrated on using the heat she could generate with the touch of her hands to fuse the material together.
She had almost completed her task when she heard footsteps beyond the bathroom door. Her hand stilled. Her heartbeat accelerated.
Judah?
She flung the dress aside and opened the door. Wearing only his wrinkled trousers, Judah stood in the middle of the bedroom. They looked at each other for one heart-stopping moment; then he moved steadily, purposefully, toward her. She waited for him there in the bathroom doorway. When he reached her, he grasped the edge of the sheet where she’d tucked it across her chest, gave it a strong tug and peeled it from her body.
“It’s dawn,” she said.
“Then we’d better not wait. It’ll be full daylight before long.”
He lifted her into his arms and carried her back to bed, then stripped off his slacks and joined her. They mated with the same fury they had shared the first time they made love last night.
Would this be the final time? she wondered. Would she never lie in his arms again, never belong to him again, never possess and be possessed with such passion?
They had walked halfway back to the house together, then Mercy had gone on ahead and managed to sneak up the back stairs without getting caught. She had showered and dressed before she heard Sidonia stirring, then started her day as if everything were normal. Although Sidonia hadn’t questioned her about why she hadn’t returned home last night, she had given her several damning looks during the day, especially whenever Judah was nearby.
And to complicate matters even more, Eve apparently thought that her parents were now a couple. She was too young to understand anything about sex between adults, but she was intuitive enough, possessing some of Mercy’s empathic talents as well as both her parents’ basic psychic gifts, to know that things had changed between Mercy and Judah. Even if Judah didn’t love her, Mercy accepted the fact that she did love him and always would. A Raintree mating with an Ansara was as improbable as a hawk mating with a tiger. But not impossible. What did seem impossible was that a Raintree truly loved an Ansara.
How would she ever be able to explain her feelings for Judah to Dante and Gideon? God help her, how would they react when she told them that Eve was half Ansara?
Dante could be stern and unforgiving, but he was always logical and usually fair. As with most people born into a position of supreme authority, he had grown up with a sense of entitlement, expecting to make all the decisions for his younger siblings. For the most part Gideon had followed in his big brother’s footsteps until they grew to manhood; then he had become his own person, not always agreeing with Dante and occasionally locking horns with him.
When Mercy had told them she was pregnant, both Dante and Gideon had demanded the name of Eve’s father. The fact that she had refused to name the man had enraged both her brothers, but in time they had let the subject drop. She knew that they assumed Eve’s father was one of the Ungifted, or maybe a “stray,” as Dante referred to humans who had developed gifts independently but were neither Raintree nor Ansara. Only with Sidonia’s help had Mercy been able to keep Eve’s unusually powerful abilities hidden and the truth of her paternity a secret.
But this was one secret that couldn’t be hidden for much longer. Once Judah had dealt with Cael, he would try to take Eve.
No matter how much she loved Judah, she couldn’t give him their child. And there was only one way to stop him.
But could she kill him?
After dinner that evening, Judah left the house without any explanation. He chose an isolated area more than a mile from the house and far from any of the guest cottages. Standing alone and insulated from all that was Raintree, he telepathically linked with Claude. He could hear what his cousin heard and see what he saw. He listened as Sidra addressed the assembled council, the highest ranking officers and many of the nobility, all congregated in the great hall at the palace. Through closed-circuit television, her message was carried to every home in Terrebonne.
“I have seen a child with golden hair and golden eyes. She has been born for her father’s people, to transform the Ansara from darkness into light. Seven thousand years of Ansara and Raintree noble blood runs through her veins.”
Gasps and grumbles and cries of outrage rose from the audience.
Judah spoke through Claude. “Do you dare question Sidra’s visions? Do you doubt her love for our people? Has my brother’s madness infected all of you?”
Nine tenths of those assembled rose to their feet. Their shouts of faith in Sidra and allegiance to Judah completely overshadowed the handful of dissenters.
Sidra spoke again, her words of wisdom reassuring the Ansara that Judah’s mixed-breed child was unlike any child ever born. “Eve is the child of our ancestors, the seed of a united people. She is more than Ansara, more than Raintree. Our fate is in her hands. Her life is more precious to me than my own.”
The assembly listened with reverence, and through Claude, Judah sensed their doubts and concerns, but also their acceptance and hope.
A single request came from numerous Ansara, all wanting to know if, when Judah returned to Terrebonne, he would bring the Princess Eve home to her people.
“Princess Eve will come to Terrebonne when the time is right for her to take her place as your future Dranira,” Judah replied through Claude.
When the cheers died down, a lone woman stepped forward and posed one simple question. “What of the child’s mother?” Alexandria Ansara asked. “Are we to believe that Princess Mercy will simply give her daughter to you?”
A deafening silence fell over the assembly as they waited for Judah’s reply.
You must answer them, my lord, Claude told Judah.
As he contemplated his response, Judah felt Sidra’s hand on Claude’s arm and sensed that she wanted to speak to him through his cousin.
Your fate is tied to hers. Your future is her future, your life, her life.
If you die, she dies. If she dies, you die.
Every muscle in Judah’s body tensed, every nerve charged with electrical energy. He understood that if Sidra could have explained further, she would have. Her prophecy was open to interpretation, but Judah knew that she spoke of Mercy, not Eve, and if he and Mercy fought over possession of their child, whichever one of them survived would die a thousand deaths during their lifetime.