BOOK SUMMARY:
When slavers steal Juhan and his twin sister Chosi from their home planet of psychics, their only comfort is in the fact that they’re together. When they are separated at auction, Juhan swears to find his sister, no matter the cost.
Juhan is bought by the spoiled daughter of a political scion. Caught in her glittering world of intrigue and politics, Juhan is startled to find Sadi playing a long game to change intergalactic politics and Juhan is merely a pawn in her game. But as his vow and Sadi's lies takes them across galaxies, he begins to wonder if his young owner is more than an arrogant rich girl. And he has to consider the cost of his promise—especially when people they both care for begin to die.
A galaxy away, Chosi is sold into blood sport. With her psychic ability, she earns a precarious position of value within the gladiator school, training the draken—wild creatures of smoke and fire—for the arena. In the midst of that hell, she forges a friendship with the slave Jemes and the draken she cares for. But when her defiance comes with devastating results, Chosi contemplates suicide as an escape from her chains. Yet, she can't forget the brother who promised to find her, and even as she welcomes the risk of death, she clings to that promise.
Spun across space and exotic worlds, Juhan and Chosi try to find each other, and home in a stunning story about the lengths love will take you.
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I twist the silk knot at my throat, and Sadi reaches up, pulling my hand down. Her emotions are choked down but I can feel the hum of nervous energy filling the house, making my back teeth ache. I growl and she narrows her eyes. -This isn’t the time for an attitude,- she says, her voice ricocheting in my head.
-Sorry, lady. This is not my forte.-
-There will be Eleyi there, even if you can’t see them. You can’t think about anything but us.- She tucks her hand in the crook of my arm, leaning into me, and I stiffen. -Will it help to know we’ll be leaving soon?-
-The dinner? Not really.- I take a deep breath, forcing my anger down as we start down the hall.
-No.- She hesitates, then says quickly, -Daddy wants to go to the auction houses. We’ll be returning with him. Tin thinks we can find more information there, about Chosi.-
A cold sweat breaks out, and I stumble to a halt, Sadi cursing as she snags her dress on her heels. -How will you keep this secret at the auction houses? Your father will find out you bought me.-
She smiles, and we step into the brilliantly lit room, swept into a swirl of soft music and conversation. -After tonight, it won’t matter, darling.-
For a heartbeat, I wonder what she means, and then, like a tidal wave, the emotions of the aristocracy—of the Interplanetary Senate—crash over me.
There is a quiet hum of curiosity, the sharp flash of female appreciation that makes me want to fidget. And below that, there is anger. Furious and hot, hitting like small ripples, the anger gathers force and momentum until it’s a gale, battering me.
The IPS is outraged that an Eleyi is here with one of their own, the daughter of a Senator hanging on his arm, expecting to be recognized as more than chattel—a tool to be used and discarded.
And they don’t care enough to hide their opinion.
Sadi pauses, a bright smile on her face, and I can feel the eyes being drawn to us. The room sprawls before us, opulent and lovely, thick with Others and laughing humans. A staff of servers glides through the crowd, bearing delicate flutes of sparkling cider. Candlelight glitters off jewels and decadent fabric and bright colors. It’s almost too much to take in.
The Senator sees her from where he is standing, talking to a Mar’et Senator—a minor planet but valuable for trade—and he smiles her at, beckoning. Sadi steers us that way, and we drift through the crowd, trailed by whispers and anger. And Tinex.
Even here, now, Sadiene is protected. Perhaps especially so.
“Father, the gala is lovely,” she says, kissing his cheek. “And Senator Kel’taen. It’s been far too long.”
The Mar’etan is staring at me, a mixture of fascination and disgust slowly coating his psyche. Deliberately, I fan my wings, the diaphanous jewel-toned membrane sparkling in the lowlights. The Senator flinches back and Sadi’s voice rings out, sharply. “Senator Kel’taen. May I introduce my consort, Juhan’tr of Eleyiar?”
He can’t quite cover his revulsion as his gaze darts to Sadi, her eyes hard and demanding. “P-pleased, pleased to meet you, Juhan’tr.”
I’m tempted to extend a hand, but I merely nod and fold my wings back. The room seems to release a collective breath and Sadi smiles again, finally. “Juhan saved my life, did you know?”
I squeeze her hand on my arm, and she smiles up at me, shiny and adoring. I want to shake her off, shake off all the eyes on us. She’s telling the story, the one we came up with, and I force myself to focus on her, on the bright spot of her voice. Force myself to wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my body as she laughs and flirts, her manner light and playful. I add a little of my own manipulation, lulling her into the act even further. There is the lure of her emotions, addictively sweet, blending with mine until I struggle to tell what is real and what is not.
“Shall we sit?” Senator Harvine asks, finally, smiling at his daughter.
Sadi’s grip on my arm tightens, and I let her feel my flare of pain. She loosens her grip a tiny bit. -Sorry. This is where we’ll have the most trouble.-
I know, even without her warning. The IPS is moving toward the dining room, to the long table set with tiny pots of floating flowers and candles. Long-stemmed glasses and Jentr-made crystal plates. Carved cherry wood chairs and linen napkins—both have to be synthetic. Even a Senator of Harvine’s means doesn’t have that kind of wealth.
And above and below the extravagant beauty, like a discordant note in a beautiful song, is the buzz of anger. So much anger that for a heartbeat, I stumble. I can feel their eyes—Sadi’s worry and Brando’s spike of interest, the IPS watching with hungry intent, Sadi’s hot desire twisting with my psyche.
So I use it.
As I straighten, I tug Sadi closer and lean down to kiss her. It’s the first time I’ve initiated contact like this, and as my lips ghost over hers, gentle and exploring, I feel a breath of hesitation before she responds, deepens the kiss. She twists into my embrace, natural and seductive. Her emotions push at me, pulling me deeper, and for a heartbeat—an eternity—the anger of the IPS fades into white noise.
Her hand on my arm is tugging as she nibbles my bottom lip, and the combination throws me. I sway. Instinctively, my wings spread, maintaining my balance.
A hiss, low and outraged, jerks us free of each other. A Senator is glaring, trembling with rage as he watches us.
Author Information
About the Author
Nazarea Andrews is an avid reader and tends to write the stories she wants to read. She loves chocolate and coffee almost as much as she loves books, but not quite as much as she loves her kids. She lives in south Georgia with her husband, daughters, and overgrown dog.
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