A Second Chance
Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Paula Calloway
Word Count :25708
Publication Date :2011-06-19
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 978-1-55410-574-8
Sometimes all love needs is a second chance.
Born to a loving people and enduring the long training process required to teach her to use The Gift, Anesya is suddenly ripped away, and her incomplete training is a death sentence.
Gifted since birth with spectacular powers and a caring heart his people never intended he have, Tarmathian turns his back on them to make a difference in a realm where caring and tolerance require calm and diplomatic tactics.
Brought together by circumstances and standing united, the couple attempts to save their dying races. Exploring beyond the veil of magic into the realm of souls, they discover it takes two to fill a cup of love.
Her footing regained and fearful of another mistake, Anesya focused on the hull of the Bellatrix. She called the power to build around her, aimed with her mind’s eye, and unleashed the desired effect. The intensity of the pain too much, she screamed, clutched her head, and fell to her knees.
Her master jerked her to her feet. “Stop playing games, pet, or I’ll have my way with you here and now.”
She trembled from the pain and an unclear head but again attempted to target the Bellatrix in desperation to avoid the feared beating. The void around her absent of all elements, she trembled. Loss of her gift terrified her more than his promised punishment. “S-something is inhibiting me.”
Hailed by the other ship, Benet opened the communication channel. “This is Commander Benet. I’m interested in your cargo.”
From the dim bridge of the Bellatrix, a deep masculine voice quietly answered, “I don’t think so.” With his head tilted forward so his hair shielded his face, a tall male stepped in front of the view screen.
Her master stared. “Clearly this little wench made a mistake in attacking on her own, Captain.”
The muscular man raised his head, his smile slow. “And I hold you responsible.”
Anesya stepped back and bumped into her master. The palest lavender gray eyes pierced her soul, and the handsome captain’s sheer size stole her breath. At six-foot-six and two hundred forty-eight pounds, his bluish skin was quite pale. Midnight blue soft leather boots fringed just below his knees, each fringe decorated with hematite and turquoise beads spaced with care, remained silent with his step closer.
She shivered but continued to stare. Snug midnight blue, soft doeskin pants hinted at his muscled legs. Midnight blue leather bracers edged his wrists with malachite and bloodstone. Trimmed in sapphire, quartz crystal, and fluorite, the matching blue leather vest hung open and revealed his muscled chest. Silky platinum hair flowed to his waist.
* * * *
Tarmathian never abused The Gift but welcomed its ability to protect his rare and valuable living cargo. His mind intent on destruction, he mentally reached out and, his plunder vicious, sought the Bellatrix’s attacker.
A wisp of a female clutched her head, dropped to her knees, and curled into a small ball of trembling flesh on the floor. “Stop, please…” Tears streamed down her face as she writhed in pain, her voice a mere whisper, “Please.”
Lunarian. His probe gentled, he zeroed in and assessed her capabilities while holding her connection to the elements at bay. “You not only used one similar to me in the wrong way…” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “But an untrained one. You are a fool, sir, for I can destroy her with no more than a mere word.” Her groan drew his attention, and he eased back his mental hold a bit more.
“Mercy, please.” She shakily rose to her knees. “Forgiv—”
Benet grabbed her shoulder, yanked her to her feet, and shook her violently. He snarled through clenched teeth. “Hit his ship now, pet.”
Tarmathian despised the cruel man’s foolishness. “She is incapable.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“She possesses no abilities because I surrounded her with a shield inhibiting her connection with the elements. In other words, I am keeping them from her.” He nodded to his left, then vanished. The lights dimmed on the bridge, and he appeared before the Bellatrix’s attacker. Certain the Lunarian would not instigate a war on her own accord, he met the foolish man’s gaze, his grin wry. “If you wish to punish someone, let’s make it a fair match.”
Benet stepped back, using the female as a shield. “Get off my ship, intruder.”
“You attack mine, then order me from yours?” Tarmathian almost smiled. “I do believe I’m offended.” His concentration on the crew brief, he sealed the connecting doors. He glanced down at the trembling waif still forced to barricade his path. The rip in the tattered brown garment climbed the side of her thigh and exposed her upper hip. Cool air scattered gooseflesh across her skin, and the flimsy material did nothing to hide her nipples pebbled from the chill. Only the hideous garment shielded her feminine features.
With the distance closed in a single step, he gentled his mental probe of her terrified mind while soft pants of feminine breath warmed his chest. His discerned lack of magical marks explained her unleashed power and captivity. “This lowlife slaver was never your mentor.” He raised his head and met the fool’s gaze, his grin wry. “Did she come willingly? Or is she stolen, Commander?”
Benet scowled. “None of your business. Get this alien off my ship.”
“Such orders will do you no good. I made your crew ignore you, her, and me. They simply run the ship.” Tarmathian motioned with his hand. “See for yourself.”
Benet stared while the crew performed their essential duties with blank expressions. “I apologize for attacking the Bellatrix, Captain.” He eased his hand behind his back and gripped his weapon’s handle.
His mind focused on the idiot, he smiled. “Surely you don’t think to distract me and use that, Commander?”
Benet stared, “I thought—”
“There now, sir.” His smile relaxed, Tarmathian imposed his will over the fool’s own. “Return to what you do most.” He glanced at the viewscreen.
Benet pulled a knife. “You failed me again, and it will be the last time, pet.” He stabbed her midsection.
The Lunarian clutched her right side, staggered backward, stumbled, and fell to the floor. Thick red blood poured from her wound.
“Some beasts never learn.” Tarmathian waved his hand in the air, and the brute collapsed on the floor with a thud. Her sigh of relief redirected his attention, and he turned toward her. He raised an eyebrow. “Do you really wish to die the death of the untrained?”
She lifted her hand. The unimpeded blood flowed from her wound. “Better than a slave’s life.”
Swift, he dropped to his knee beside her and settled his hand over her wound with firm pressure. His desire to mend her flesh bent the elements to his will. “There are other options.”