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they had been alone. He was calm, now, resigned to what was going to be done to him;

but Bridget could sense the unease in him as they got off the elevator and headed for the

black double doors at the end of the corridor. He had not so much as glanced her way

since leaving his quarters and had said nothing at all, but she wasn't sure he could have

made the trip without her.

"Do you want me in the therapy room with you?" she asked as they reached the doors.

Although she would prefer not to watch the man she loved being tortured again, she

would accompany him into his own private hell if that were what he wished.

"Aye," he said, quietly. He still did not look at her, but she saw the hand nearest her jerk as though he had wanted to grasp her own, then realized he should not.

Those gathered at the reception desk became quiet as the Reaper and Bridget entered

Be-Mod 9. Ivonne's tremulous smile of greeting slid away as the imposing man in the

black uniform halted before her.

"We are expected," he said.

Not Ì am expected', thought Bridget, seeing the same understanding washing over

those at the desk.

"Yes, Captain," Ivonne replied. She handed a sheet of paper to Bridget. "You know where to take him."

Cree shocked them all when he suddenly reached for Bridget's hand. "Come," was all

he said, but not one of the women gathered there missed the meaning of his action:

Kamerone Cree, the Rysalian Empire's Prime Reaper, needed help to enter the therapy

suites this time.

Dr. Dean came out of her office. "I am sorry about this, Bridget."

Cree let go of Bridget's hand. "In there?" he asked, indicating the room where he had gone the first time had had been processed into the Unit.

"Yes."

He pushed on the keypad and started to enter. When he realized Bridget was not

following him, he snaked out a hand and took her arm. "Come with me. They know you

are my woman." He shut the door in the Director's face.

"I didn't know if you wanted me to show any familiarity around..."

"They
know
you are my woman!" he stressed again as he began to jerk at the buttons of his uniform blouse, flick the cuffs open. He yanked the opened shirt from his trousers,

and then bent over to tug off his boots. "They know I have had sex with you, Bridget," he groused. "I would venture to say everyone on FSK-14 knows by now!"

A bright infusion of color spread over Bridget's face. She shrugged helplessly, not

knowing how to answer. She picked up the uniform shirt he threw savagely to the floor.

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"I would even go so far to say most people know how many times we had sex last

eve!" She watched him flick open the buttons of his fly then kick off his trousers. She

picked those up as well.

"Kam..." she began only to have him fix her with a warning glance.

"I am a Reaper, Bridget," he snapped. "I will be all right. No matter what they do to me, I will be all right!"

"Of course you will," she agreed. Coming to him, she cupped his cheek. "Remember that I love you."

He blinked—the only acknowledgment he gave that he understood. "Let's get this over

with," he said.

Dr. Dean was waiting at the end of the hall for them. Beside her was the same team of

women who had taken part in his first reinforcement sessions. He swept his gaze among

them. "Ladies," he said.

"We will make this as easy for you as we can, Captain," Tina said.

Cree nodded, then walked into the therapy suite. He was already stretched out on the

table when they entered behind him.

"I hope it was worth it," came an amused voice from the gallery.

Everyone looked up to see Justice Onar at the glass.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Dean asked.

"He knows," Onar grunted. "Don't you, Cree?" A nasty grin crinkled the old man's face. "Was she worth being punished for, Captain?"

Dr. Dean glanced at Bridget, wondering if she had guessed, as everyone else had, that

this was the reason her lover was being tortured. One look at the horror stamped on

Bridie's face told the Director the news had devastated the younger woman.

"Answer me, Cree!" Onar shouted. "Was she worth it?"

From the position in which he lay, Cree couldn't see the old man's face, but it didn't

matter. He wasn't even looking toward the gallery. "Aye," he bit out. "She was!"

"Oh, Kam," Bridget sobbed, hurrying to her lover. "I am sorry. I—"

"Bridget, take your place and let's get this business finished," Dr. Dean insisted.

"I can't!" Bridget cried. "I won't be a part of hurting him again!"

"Do what you have to do, woman," Cree snapped at her. "Don't shame me in front of that bastard!"

"I did this to you."

"I know who to blame and it isn't you!" Cree barked. "Get your ass where you belong so I can get the hell out of here!"

"Bridget, take your place," said Dr. Dean.

They worked over him: attaching leads, clamping down restraints. Bridget moved to

the head of the table and placed her hands lovingly on Cree's temples.

"Do not let me swallow my tongue," he instructed and was relieved when he saw her

smile just a little. She nodded and bent over him.

"Remember what I told you," she whispered in his ear. "I love you, Kamerone Cree."

She straightened up and locked her eyes with his. "I love you with all my heart." There was a flicker of his eyelids, nothing more, to indicate he had heard her.

"Are you ready, Bridget?" the Director asked.

Bridget nodded, still holding Cree's stare. She placed the rubber wedge between the

Reaper's lips.

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The needle was driven into Cree's vein and almost instantly the drug flooded his body.

The last thing he heard before the nightmarish hell began all over again was her voice:

"I am here, Kam. I am here."

"KAM."

He was swimming up through a white-hot fog that was sluicing away the very flesh

from his body.

"Kam?"

There was that godsawful pain in his back again: the dagger slicing in, sending waves

of agony through his spine.

"Kamerone!"

Running his tongue over his canines, he felt the sharp edges forming, tasted his own

blood as they cut through his flesh. Smelled the fresh blood scent and body heat of some

animal close to him.

He growled.

His hands arched into claws.

"Kamerone, wake up!"

Brought abruptly out of his torment, Cree stared fixedly at the wavering image

hovering him.

"Here. Drink."

His head was lifted and he felt the cool rim of a metal container against his lips, then

salty warmth flowed into his thirsty mouth. He swallowed convulsively, drawing in the

liquid; drowning in the taste and feel of it; reveling in the slackening of the pain in his

body.

"More," he rasped.

"I know, baby."

Once again the container was brought to his mouth and he drank greedily until the

torment was relieved.

"Are you warm enough?"

"Too warm," he muttered, mentally trying to fan away the hot fog in which he was

lying. He felt hands on him, then blessedly cool water easing over his naked chest.

"When you're able, we'll go home."

Home? He shifted his head on the pillow and blinked to rid his vision of the haze.

What he saw when he was finally able to focus was the most comforting sight in all the

universe to him. "Bridget?" he whispered.

"I'm here, sweetheart." She sat down in a chair beside his cot, took his hand in hers, and brought it to her lips. She kissed his knuckles.

"Is it—?" He found he could not ask.

"It's over," she told him and nestled his hand against her cheek.

A long, relieved sigh came from his very core. He tried to smile, but the canines cut

into his lower lip and he saw her look away. Mortally ashamed of what he was for the

first time in his life, he turned his face from her.

"Don't," she ordered, reaching over to turn his face toward her again. "It'll just take some getting used to, that's all."

He had no intention of her `getting used to' seeing him in any part of his Transition.

Had his face altered just now? Was that why she had looked away? Or had those

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wickedly sharp fangs frightened her?

Either way, he did not intend to let her witness any more changes in him. Already the

sharpness was leaving his teeth—along with the hunger and the extreme body

temperature. If he was lucky, and he took transfusions as needed, he would not go into

Transition again for another cycle and he would make gods-be-damned sure he was

nowhere near her when that happened.

"Just rest, okay?" she asked. She used her free hand to smooth the hair from his eyes.

"When you feel up to it, I'll help you dress and we'll go home."

Home.

There it was again: that wonderful, sharing word.

Before Bridget had come into his life, his quarters had been just a place to eat and

sleep and exist in between assignments. Now, it was a glorious place where he could rest

and find peace.

He dozed off with her holding his hand and stroking his hair. When he woke, she was

standing at the door, speaking quietly to Dr. Dean.

"I think it's the rain I miss most," he heard Bridget saying. Her back was to him and she had no idea he was listening.

"Rain," the Director sighed. "Sweet spring rain on an Oregon hillside."

"One of my favorite things was to sit on our porch and watch the rain falling on the

corn," Bridget said. "I remember the smell of it on the grass; the sound of it hitting the gutters and roof, the air conditioner in my bedroom window. At night, it would plink

against the air conditioner and I thought that the most soothing sound."

"What about snow?" someone beyond his sight asked and he thought the voice might

belong to Tina.

"I miss that, too," Bridget sighed.

"I don't!" Dr. Dean grumbled. "I hated shoveling snow to get my damned car out of the driveway!"

"I miss the light." Cree was sure that was Ivonne's voice. "Sunlight on a Miami beach.

Lying there, getting a tan on the chaise lounge." She sighed. "I really miss that.

"The light," Bridget repeated. "I have almost forgotten what it is to see daylight."

Dr. Dean looked past Bridget's shoulder and saw Cree watching them. She smiled.

"How are you feeling, Captain?"

He shrugged. "Bridget?" he asked, putting out a hand for her to come to him. She

came, took his hand and bent over to place a light kiss on his forehead. "I am ready to

leave," he told her.

"Then we'll go home," she replied.

As she was helping him put on his uniform, he stopped and looked at her. "Isn't there a

Vid-Com outside the door there?" he asked.

"Yes."

He stepped around her, walked into the hallway and stood before the Vid-Com screen.

"Computer?"

"Yes, Captain Cree?"

"Where is my 2/IC?"

"One moment, Sir," the computer. Then, "He is having his evening meal, Sir."

"Tell him I wish to see him in my quarters ASAP."

"Yes, Sir."

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"Can't he finish his meal?" Bridget asked.

Cree glanced at her, frowned, and then shrugged. "After he finishes eating," he

corrected.

"I shall so inform Lt. Lona, Sir," the Vid-Com reported.

He came back to Bridget, turned away from her so he could thrust his arms through the

shirt she was holding for him. He smiled when her arms went around his waist and she

pressed herself against his back. "Thank you," Cree heard her say.

"You are going to be my ruin, woman," he sighed as he removed her hands and began

to button his shirt. He stopped when she came around in front of him, pushed his hands

away and began buttoning the shirt herself. When she was finished, she waited until he

had stuffed the shirt in his trousers before she slipped her arms around him once more

and lay her head against his chest. He wrapped his own arms around her and held her

loosely.

"I am glad you were with me today," he said softly. She didn't respond so he put up a hand to hook his index finger under her chin and lift her head. He looked down into her

eyes, his thumb rubbing across the point of her chin. "I want with you me for all time."

Bridget's lips parted but before she could say anything, his head came down and his

mouth took hers in a sweet, intoxicating kiss. When his lips released hers, he slowly

smiled. "Let's go home, milady."

She felt him stir against her lower belly. "Aye, milord," she agreed. "I think we'd better!"

DREWE LONA gaped at him. "But you have never taken leave in your entire

career!" he protested. "What will you do?"

Cree looked at Bridget who was staring at him from the sofa. He winked, a crooked

grin on his face, then turned to Lona. "Spend time with my lady," he replied. He turned to Bridget. "Where should we go for the day?"

Bridget's face lit up. "Can we visit Rysalia Prime?"

"We can."

Lona slumped against the chair in which he was seated. "Do you know how hard it will