Free Shadowed: Brides of the Kindred book 8 by Evangeline Anderson Page A

He remembered watching her work in a place filled with brightly colored alien artifacts as well as talking to an ancient little old woman he thought she called “Mejoo” or “Meloo”—something like that. And the more he remembered, the more urgently he wanted to see her live, in the flesh.
    But when he got to his ship and put his fingers on the handle, the hatch wouldn’t open.
    “What in the Seven Hells?” Reddix muttered, trying again. The hatch was keyed to his prints and should have opened at his lightest touch. He yanked at the unyielding handle and a small beeping noise went off. Looking down, Reddix saw a small message written in glowing green light letters scrolling across the side of his ship beside the handle.
    Access denied. You have not been cleared for flight by Commander Sylvan. Access denied.
    Reddix cursed furiously and shook the door handle until it rattled, but it did no good. His own ship had been locked against him, and there was no way to override it without Sylvan’s permission—permission he would no doubt refuse to grant when he knew what Reddix wanted to do.
    He could just see how his confrontation with the physician would go now—“So you want to go down to a strange planet filled with alien people spewing alien emotions when your RTS is already overloading your system almost to the point of death so you can kidnap an innocent girl and sacrifice her to a witch to cure your affliction? Why certainly, go right ahead.”Reddix snorted. I don’t think so.
    But all this sarcasm wasn’t getting him anywhere. More and more he had a feeling of urgency—a tension in his gut that told him Nina was the one he was seeking—the girl with healing hands and a pure heart. He needed to get down to Earth—but how?
    Well, if I can’t go in my ship, I’ll take another. Of course, stealing a ship and violating his doctor’s orders probably wasn’t the best way to ingratiate himself with his hosts, but at this point, Reddix didn’t care.
    Looking around, he saw a row of patrol shuttles, usually used for transporting prisoners or enemy warriors to and from the Mother Ship. They were general use and so ought to respond to any Kindred warrior’s handprint. Of course, once his print was in the system, it would be clear he’d taken a ship. But only if someone was looking for him. And since Sylvan had ordered him to go to his suite and see no one for a good long time, Reddix estimated he might get a pretty good head start.
    Trying to control his impatience, he strolled nonchalantly down to the end of the row, selecting the last ship. It looked dusty from disuse, probably because it was an older model than the others. So much the better—no one would miss it.
    Reddix pressed his palm to the silver metal side, and the front hatch slid open soundlessly. He stepped inside and took a quick look around. There were food cubes and a rehydrator, which was good, as well as adequate sleeping arrangements. Clearly the shuttle was meant for long range missions and was equipped accordingly.
    But the most useful piece of equipment he found was in a cabinet marked “Restraints” in glowing red letters near the back of the cockpit. Inside were a gleaming pair of copper-colored wrist cuffs with a tiny copper release mechanism, which Reddix pocketed. The cuffs had obviously been made for a Kindred male, but they were adjustable—they should fit Nina nicely. There were gags too, but he hesitated to use one. A hard gag could be dangerous, and he didn’t want to hurt her.
    Of course you don’t, whispered a sarcastic little voice in his head. You just want to kidnap her and take her to the swamp witch so she can drain her blood for your own selfish reasons.
    Reddix frowned. Can’t think like that. If he didn’t get cured of his RTS, at least enough to father a child on Tilla, his entire damn society was going to crumble into a bloody civil war. He had to push his guilt to the side, push away the awe he’d felt at