Charity hoped he was right. She was a firm believer in living for today. She’d learned the hard way tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.

  * * * *

  Mymah, moon in Galactic Council Space

  Former nun Cheryl Taupin began the meeting she’d called. “The orphanage continues to be beneath the notice of the Galactic Council, thank God. Unfortunately, we can’t continue to count on it.”

  Her husband Nobek Besral glanced around the conference table at the four others who’d joined them: two human women and two fellow Nobeks. He concentrated on Ocri and Norev, next in line in the security hierarchy of the small defense force employed by Open Arms Orphanage. “No doubt the GC would leave this moon alone if it weren’t for our presence. But we’re needed here more than ever, especially now when it seems the ruling council has lost its collective senses.”

  “They said they’d arrest any Kalquorians unaffiliated with the council who remain in GC space,” Cheryl needlessly reminded them.

  “I don’t plan to budge unless the children leave too,” Ocri snarled. “They’ve been my responsibility for ten years. I’ve watched thousands grow and embark on successful lives thanks to our care. I refuse to walk away.”

  “As do we all.” Besral offered a grim smile.

  The Kalquorian men were impressive muscled beasts despite their heads full of gray hair and advanced years. Discounting Besral, none of the dozen remaining to guard the orphanage was a day under the age of one hundred ninety. Besral was one hundred sixty himself. He wasn’t old, but he was well into middle age for a Kalquorian.

  Their official function was to guard the orphans of Armageddon, as the parentless children who’d survived in the wake of the Earth-Kalquorian War were often referred to. The Nobeks would have long retired if they’d remained in the empire’s fleet or ground troops.

  They typically had little to do as far as actually protecting the mere five hundred children left from the original thousands who’d sought refuge after losing their families and world. The space belonging to the Galactic Council of Planets had historically been as safe a haven as could be found in the galaxy. Besral’s men were more apt to teach math, science, meditation, or physical exercise classes than challenge unknown crafts veering too close to the moon facility.

  Still, their mandate was to keep the children safe above all else. They’d become de facto father figures for those who hadn’t been adopted or attained adulthood yet. When the Galactic Council had ordered all Kalquorians out of its space subsequent to dubious revelations of wrongdoing, those who’d made the orphanage their lives had been besieged by demands from their charges to stay. When days, then weeks slipped by and no one enforced the eviction, the atmosphere of grief and fear had lessened.

  The orphanage’s first headmistress had tearfully left when her clan had been assigned elsewhere by their military supervisors. Cheryl had successfully headed the orphanage for the past three years. When trouble erupted between the Galactic Council and the Kalquorian Empire but no one demanded the Kalquorians at Open Arms leave, she’d agreed with Besral their being overlooked would be brief. Sooner or later, the GC would remember its small orphanage colony and those who staffed it.

  “There are reports some planets, stations, and moons in the GC’s system have come under martial law following protests against recent rulings,” she told the two young women on her staff.

  “I heard there’ve been riots.” Marci Soames, the younger of the pair, held Cheryl’s gaze. She exuded a forthright directness, challenging her supervisor to not sugarcoat the situation. Bold and mature beyond her twenty years, she could be trusted to speak her mind.

  Her sister Darci looked like her twin rather than an elder sibling. Only two years separated the Soames. Neither wore makeup, nor did they need it. Theirs were lovely, proud features, left bare thanks to their black curls cut close to their heads “Homes are being searched on Shiwin and Taheg, according to a couple of news reports on the secret channels,” she added. “Neither were known to have Kalquorian residents, so no one is sure what the reason is.”

  “No one’s suggesting the secretary-general be booted, and he’s Kalquorian.”

  “He’s been seen less and less in these past weeks,” Besral mused. “It makes me wonder.”

  “He probably knows you guys might show up to kick his butt. Didn’t he ask for leniency toward the Tragooms a few weeks ago?” Marci’s tone was sharp. Most sentients were no fans of the aggressive race from Trag. She in particular loathed them utterly after they’d attacked their old orphanage on Europa when she was ten.

  Cheryl often mourned the Soames sisters had elected to remain at the orphanage rather than pursue the successful careers she knew they’d have elsewhere. Dedicated to their fellow refugees, they’d vowed to remain until the last orphan of Armageddon left. The youngest of the residents were ten, having been infants when the original Earth had been rendered unlivable. Darci would be thirty and still part of the orphanage if those didn’t find homes prior to reaching legal adulthood.

  However, the sense of an emergency descending upon them made Cheryl grateful to have her most dedicated assistants at her side. She appreciated them almost as much as she did Besral.

  “Neither Secretary-General Dramok Mereta nor the Tragooms are the issue where we’re concerned,” she said to re-direct the discussion to where it needed to be. “I believe we’re in imminent danger, and we should evacuate before the GC remembers our tiny population here.”

  The rest murmured their agreement with her assessment. Having established they were likeminded on the issue, Besral spoke up in his gruff voice. “I can send a message through secret channels to Kalquor’s Fleet Command. They may not be able to send help, but perhaps our allies can do so.”

  “Why not alert Earth? They’re most likely to have a place for us to set up a new facility,” Darci said.

  “Except for a few thousand independent operators, Earth has no military ships. They haven’t yet established the infrastructure to support a fleet. Kalquor is in charge of keeping your new home planet safe.”

  “Funny to call it a home planet when I’ve never been there. You’re right; we need the empire to figure this out,” Marci said. She grinned at Besral in obvious appreciation. “As they’ve done for us time and time again.”

  “We’ll continue to shore up defenses ourselves,” Besrel told Ocri and Norev. “I have some ideas on how we might conceal our presence here in case the GC decides to remember we exist.”

  “Let’s get to work.” Norev grinned, as if they planned a fun outing rather than courting death.

  Chapter Two

  Cheryl was exhausted at the end of the day. The children in her charge were wonderful and usually easy to manage, but they’d picked up on the tension of their caretakers. Or perhaps they’d noted the few grim independent news reports drifting the orphanage’s way, which spoke of what the larger agencies ignored or weren’t allowed to acknowledge. In any event, there’d been instances of surly behavior from the teens and crying jags from the younger residents. Ever watchful over their charges, the Kalquorian staff had managed to head off a couple of impending fights before fists could fly.

  Adolescent hormones blended with uncertainty made for a long day. Cheryl wondered how many upheavals the children and staff would have to endure until the GC regained its sanity or the residents could leave for a less nerve-wracking location.

  If the Galactic Council allowed them to leave.

  Stop it. There was no valid reason for it to refuse their departure. Cheryl thought she was letting Marci’s and Darci’s growing conspiracy theories color her thoughts, though the atmosphere in the ruling body’s space had become decidedly odd. Having endured oppression on the original Earth, Cheryl had to admit it worried her.

  Upon reaching the quiet of her own quarters for the remainder of the day, she would have been grateful to crawl in bed, pull the covers over her head, and escape in the peace of sleep until it was time to get up and face the uncertainty again. However, Besral would also be home soon, and he’d be tense. He’d have repressed his concerns to keep from upsetting the children more than they already were. Since she was the only person he felt comfortable sharing his stress with, sleep would have to wait.

  She searched the kitchen cabinets and found a package of stim tabs. She dropped one on her tongue to dissolve. As she waited for it to send energy flowing through her, she searched the cooling unit for something to cook, in case he’d missed dinner. She hadn’t seen him in the cafeteria for the evening meal.

  As she mused between the remains of a turkey she’d roasted earlier that week and the ronka ribs he’d grilled the day prior, muscled arms slipped around her waist. “Don’t worry about it. I grabbed something in the cafeteria as they were putting the food away,” Besral rumbled in her ear.

  She nudged the cooling unit’s door closed as she turned to him. His kiss was shockingly gentle…or maybe it would have been for anyone who didn’t know the scarred Nobek as she did. Despite Besral’s warrior Nobek status, he was capable of the tenderness Cheryl’s first husband had lacked so many years before. Burt Wooton’s physical brutality hadn’t been the entire reason Cheryl had rejected his name and retreated to a convent to become a nun following their divorce, but it had played heavily in her determination to never marry again.

  She still marveled such an imposing Kalquorian had managed to change her mind and how quickly it had happened. Mere days had elapsed after they’d met when she found herself eagerly anticipating being in Besral’s presence. When they’d crossed paths, his gruff expressions had instantly eased into warmth. Kindness showed through despite his harsh exterior. He’d made it clear she was to come to him when facing any problem she needed help solving, no matter how trifling.

  A lump rose in her throat as she recalled those early days. Her fears of men had turned tail and run whenever Besral showed up. Her instincts had been accurate. He was strong and showed it by being unafraid to behave compassionately.

  She melted in his arms, loving him so intensely its force threatened to shatter her. No matter: he’d put her pieces together if she did.

  “How are you?” he asked when the kiss ended.

  “On the whole, I’m all right. Worried, but who isn’t these days?” She smiled and brushed his silvery-gray hair from intelligent purple eyes. “What about you?”

  “The message to the fleet has been sent, and contingency preparations begun if the Galactic Council’s forces should come knocking on our door. Would you call me crazy if I told you I’m actually excited?”

  She laughed. “Action is a Nobek’s calling card, isn’t it? As long as you remain in one piece, you can be as crazy as you like.”

  He grinned, the creases in his weathered face lending it character. “I can’t promise that. No self-respecting Nobek would. But I’ll do my best.” His tone turned businesslike, in contrast to the rigid interest she felt a certain part of him proclaiming. “In anticipation of the fleet responding swiftly to my com, we need to ready for a quick evacuation. I hate to upset the children, but they’ll have to travel light. They should bring along only what they can carry in their arms.”

  “In other words, their go bags.” Emergency preparedness hadn’t yet come into play at Open Arms, but Cheryl had once been trapped in her home on Earth during a wildfire crisis. The terror of those hours and lack of supplies afterward had taught her well. Not only did each child have a carry sack of a change of clothes, toiletries, medications, and identification, but they were drilled on evacuation procedures to safe zones quarterly. She thanked the prophets she’d kept up readiness protocols despite ten years of never needing to use them in a real disaster.

  “I suggest we postpone regular school lessons in favor of training to escape. If the kids know what they’re supposed to do, there’ll be less panic when the time comes to do it.”

  “I agree. We’ll cancel tomorrow morning’s classes to draw up the plans. If we’re ready by afternoon, we’ll start then.” She tweaked his slightly crooked nose. “We’re quite the team.”

  “Indeed.” Affection shone in his eyes. When he kissed her deeply, she clung to him. She moved against the hard prod of his interest, hot on her belly even through their clothing.

  He’s excited to be facing a threat. She had no qualms about taking advantage of it.

  Still kissing her, Besral scooped her off her feet and trod the hall to their bedroom. They’d come to know the steps of the intimate dance so well, he had no need to tear his lips from hers as he lowered her to her feet and began undressing her. She also had little trouble parting man from clothes, until warm bare skin met warm bare skin.

  From there, they parted to gaze at each other. Despite advancing years and scarred from a battle-heavy past, Besral remained muscled and strong. His erect cocks, the foremost slightly thicker and longer than its twin, proclaimed his virility. Cheryl’s heart quickened as it always did when she contemplated his feral magnificence.

  She felt no urge to hide her own body from his intense consideration despite having passed her sixtieth birthday. Her breasts no longer stood up perkily. Her belly, always having tended toward softer contours, had curved more as the years had passed. Nonetheless, Besral showed no less than lustful admiration when he looked at her. His spicy arousal scent, rising from the wetness coating his shafts, filled her senses.

  He repeated a statement she’d heard often through the years they’d been together. “Mother of All, you’re beautiful. And you’re mine. All mine.”

  He lifted her onto the bed they shared, and she sank into its softness, a delightful counterpoint to the granite physique covering hers. Besral resumed kissing her, as if her lips and tongue alone were the sole items he desired in the galaxy. She wound her arms around his neck, her mind repeating his joyful declaration: mine, mine, all mine.

  He rushed nothing, taking his leisure until he felt the urge to roam lower. His teeth scraped her throat excitingly, sending shivers down her spine. If he weren’t careful, she’d have to wear high-neck blouses to hide the evidence of his passion, but she was willing to make the sacrifice. She enjoyed his ardent worship too much to urge caution.

  His rough tongue traced her collarbones. His lips nuzzled the hollow between them. Cheryl’s respiration quickened. How often had Besral mapped her thoroughly, yet she never failed to respond? She’d lost count.

  His arms, which had surrounded her from the start, slid out from under her. His calloused hands cupped her breasts, molding them so her already flushed and taut nipples pointed toward the ceiling. He gazed at them as if regarding rare treasure before his head sank down to devour.

  Cheryl’s breath caught as his hot maw enclosed the top half of one mound. The sensation of sparks flew straight to her womanhood, where her pulse already throbbed. Besral hungrily tasted her breast’s entirety, his tongue setting fiery trails where it lapped. At the same time, he rubbed the other breast, his thumb teasing the peak as his tongue did to its twin.

  He drew on her, sucking her pliable flesh deep, as if he’d swallow her. When he drew off, his teeth dragged light furrows. The agreeable ache curled Cheryl’s toes. She recalled a word from her mother’s secret stash of illegal vintage paperback books, which she’d stumbled upon as an adolescent: ravish. She believed it an apt description of what Besral did to her. He didn’t merely make love. He ravished her.

  His head reared up, and his gaze held hers. His lips wrinkled back, displaying his blunt, humanlike teeth and the long, needle-sharp fangs that had appeared behind them, descending from his palate.

  Cheryl watched as his mouth sank toward her breast again. She offered no resistance when the fang tips dimpled her lush flesh. She didn’t cry out at the darts of pain as he bit and they pierced her skin. The hurt ended in an instant, thanks to his saliva, which anesthetized the wounds.

  He kept his fangs embedded as his tongue danced on her nipple. After a few moments, misty euphoria wafted through Cheryl’s brain. Her arousal increased, and she spread her legs for Besral.

  He wasn’t yet ready to accept her offer. Instead, he kissed and nuzzled his way to her other mound. A second bite, and the elation and lust increased until she was dizzy. She moved against him, squirming and grinding for better contact.

  He released her and grinned. “What are you doing, my love? Is such behavior worthy of a dignified former nun?”

  Yearning lit her entire body, and it goaded her to fulfill its hunger. “Touch me. Touch my pussy,” she begged.

  “I will. When I’m ready.” The tip of his tongue teased her nipple.

  He knew full well the effects of his venom on her, how desperately needy it made her. Her gyrations increased. She tried to push her hands between their bodies, to grasp her clamoring clit for the relief she desired.

  The brute on top of her merely chuckled and grabbed her wrists. He pinned them to the bed and continued his slow, meticulous mauling of her breasts. She squalled and jerked in an effort to escape.

  “I feel the earth trembling beneath me so very slightly,” he snickered amid sucks that left her tingling from head to toe. “Don’t worry, it isn’t nearly enough to move me from where I am.”

  She wailed, though she knew from past experience it would do no good. Besral wasn’t a rough lover, but his provocations could be brutal. He loved to make her helpless and rouse her so she screamed when she came.

  He toyed with her breasts until they heaved at her every breath. At last, he began to kiss a slow, torturous path down the center of her torso. He paused at her bellybutton to swirl his tongue over it. He knew how crazy it drove her under the intoxicant’s sway to pay attention just inches from where she wanted it most. Trapped beneath his weight and by his casual but unrelenting grip, she could only endure as her clit and pussy throbbed. The bed covering was wet beneath her from excitement. Yet Besral refused to hurry his pace. He was content to nuzzle her navel, then lick the folds between her thighs and mound.