Free Morningstar by Robyn Bachar Page B

boiled, and now there was a new, sharp edge to the sensation. She was hungry, thirsty and filled with aching need, but there was a gnawing pain to all of it. Her thoughts were clearer, but she wasn’t certain that was a good thing. The burn didn’t hurt as much when she floated on the blissful high of whatever it was the master dosed her with.
    “Hello, beautiful,” Bryn greeted. Sabine stirred and smiled at the sound of her lover’s voice.
    “I was just thinking about you.”
    “Good.” Bryn kissed her. “I picked a mate for us. You’ll like him. He’s pretty. I’m going to take you to meet him now.”
    Despite her mate’s brusqueness, Sabine sensed Bryn’s anxiety like needles prickling across her skin. They had both been dreading this moment, but there was nothing to be done other than to soldier on. She trusted Bryn. Bryn was her rock, her calm center of steadfast strength.
    “Pretty is good. He agreed to both of us?” Sabine asked, surprised. What happened to Bryn was horrible. No male would want a sterile female as a mate, but Bryn deserved to be honored for her service to the resistance, not punished for what a former master had done to her. Maybe this male recognized that. Or maybe like her he was so fuzzed on phase pheromones that he could barely think straight, and would agree to any terms in order to sate his lust.
    “Yes. It helps that he can afford us. Jace is Second Son of House Morningstar,” Bryn added.
    “Is that important?” she asked.
    “I’m sure he thinks so,” Bryn muttered.
    It meant little to Sabine. Bryn had many tales of her life as a shadow sword, and of growing up on Cyprena, but Sabine had never been to the Cy’ren homeworld. Sabine pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck, and as she breathed in her lover’s familiar scent she caught a tang of blood. Intrigued, Sabine took a deep breath and caught the male’s scent on Bryn’s jacket. The phase’s hunger surged until her body shook from the need.
    Sabine kissed the fresh bruise on her lover’s throat. “He bit you?”
    “He did. I’m covered in your scent,” Bryn said. “It made him frisky. He’s very eager to meet you.”
    Bryn was fully clothed, and Sabine frowned, deciding that she preferred the warm press of flesh against flesh. She nipped the skin below Bryn’s ear. Sabine was tired of talking, more concerned with the promise of her phase finally coming to an end.
    “Can we go now?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good.” Sabine kissed her, pouring her passion and frustration into it. Reluctantly she drew away, and then slid from the medical bed and stood. Her legs were wobbly for a moment, and she clutched Bryn for balance.
    “Do you want to dress first?” Bryn asked.
    She snorted and shook her head. “Not for where we’re going.”
    Sabine leaned on Bryn as they left the room. A human woman frowned at them in concern—the doctor, though she didn’t remember her name. Before the phase, Sabine had been very good with names, but now some days she barely remembered her own. It was hard to concentrate when flooded with constant sensation, consumed by the endless needs of the phase.
    Sweat beaded on her brow as she stumbled along with Bryn, but then she was pulled into a cramped side corridor. Bryn kissed her fiercely, until all thoughts of their destination fled from Sabine’s mind.
    “I love you,” Bryn said. “I need you to know that.”
    Sabine blinked up at her. “I do. I love you too.”
    “I’m so sorry, a’gra . I swore that when we went free I’d never share you again, but…” She trailed off, tears slipping down her cheeks. Sabine had seen Bryn whipped and beaten by their master, enduring terrible pain, but she never once cried. Bryn said that shadow swords never cried. Her lover’s anguish splashed Sabine like freezing water.
    Before the phase, Sabine had been an aleithir —another of the few Cy’reni words she knew—able to read the emotions of those around her. The needs of the phase usually