Shamara Read online

  HOLT Medallion Finalist

  Romantic Times Nominee for Best Futuristic

  **4-1/2 Stars** “Ms. Spangler masterfully takes readers into an enchanting world. In this magical tale, she delivers sheer delight.”

  — RT Magazine

  “Shamara by Catherine Spangler is an outstanding read. With the perfect blend of psychic gifts, space travel and old fashioned romance, Spangler creates a novel readers will find impossible to put down.…The carefully balanced characterizations and action make Shamara a Winner of the WordWeaving Award of Excellence.”

  The Midwest Book Review

  “A futuristic romance that will make the reader laugh, cry and sigh, Shamara has all the earmarkings of a keeper.”

  Leslie Tramposch, PNR Reviews

  “If you like your romance deep, complex, hot, funny, and smart; if you like your romance to lift you out of the drudgery of everyday life and take you into a fascinating world where anything is possible, then Shamara is for you.”

  Belinda G. Aucoin

  Shielder Series, Book Three

  By

  Catherine Spangler

  Shamara

  Shielder Series, Book Three

  Copyright © 2001, 2014 by Catherine Spangler

  Cover art by Croco Designs

  Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  ISBN: 978-0-9914974-1-6

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to two special aunts who have guided and influenced my life in countless positive ways. You have been like surrogate mothers to me, and I thank you for your encouragement and your support over the years.

  To Joanne Gailar: Your love of reading, your incredible writing talent, the joy and wonder you discover in life, continually inspire me to find magic and stories in every situation.

  To Betty Heasley: Your unshakable faith, your deep well of love and compassion for others, are a shining example of the good in this world, and a blessing to all who know you.

  Much love to you both.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Connect with Catherine

  Catherine’s Books

  Excerpt from Shadow Crossing

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Travan

  She needed to lose her virginity—and fast.

  That inane thought was Eirene's first reaction to her uncle's shattering pronouncement. Stunned, she stared at him.

  Vaden returned her perusal, his pale eyes as sharp as lasers, a warning of his cunning, savage character. Greed radiated from him like a malevolent aura. "Lanrax got your tongue, woman?"

  Panic clawed at her insides. "Uncle, you can't do this!"

  "The Leors made a very good offer. A trade route for a virgin bride. I might have bartered you to one of those slobbering idiot Anteks, as payment for not patrolling our smuggling routes. You should show your gratitude, niece."

  Gratitude? For selling her—or at least her virginity—off to a Leor? Eirene's thoughts whirled, trying to assimilate this unexpected turn of events. It was true women here on Travan had no rights and served only two purposes: breeding or trading for goods and services. Yet she had hoped her healing skills would make her too valuable to be traded. She'd obviously been wrong.

  "The Leor envoy arrives tomorrow," Vaden informed her. "Your future master will be with them. He wants to inspect you himself. You'll also be examined by their healer to ensure you're still a virgin."

  He took a swig of his wine. His lecherous gaze swept over her as he wiped his mouth. "It's a shame I can't sample you first. You're a pretty piece. But those Spiritforsaken Leors are damn particular about their women."

  A shudder ran through Eirene, and she fought back a wave of nausea. "Uncle, I urge you to reconsider. Surely my healing abilities have some value—"

  "Skills any female can learn," he spat contemptuously. "Your virginity is far more valuable."

  Not nearly as valuable as the abilities she kept hidden—powers that could very well be discovered by the Leors. Desperation spurred her foolishly on. "There must be another way to acquire the trade route."

  He lunged up, surprisingly agile for his age and size, and grabbed her wrist, jerking her halfway across his desk. "How dare you challenge my decisions?" He twisted her arm, wringing a gasp of pain from her. "This route is being acquired my way."

  He released her abruptly, and she fell forward against the desk. Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look at him. Eyes the color of the morning mist—cold, ruthless—challenged her to further folly.

  "I have full rights over you. You will do as I say. If you oppose me in any way, I'll take an electrolyzer rod to you. It won't leave any outside marks to alarm your betrothed. And after I shock you within an inch of your inconsequential life, you'll still do as I say. So what will it be, woman?"

  Bitter defeat, laced with a sense of helplessness, burned in her chest. She should have known arguing would only make her uncle more determined to enforce his authority. She pushed herself upright, resisting the urge to rub her throbbing arm. "I concede to your wishes, Uncle." For now.

  "I knew you'd see reason." Vaden sank back into his chair and belched loudly. "I expect your future mate to be well pleased, especially with that hair of yours."

  Leors had no body hair, and were reputed to hold a fascination for the hair common to other races. Eirene's was as black as a full eclipse and flowed to her hips. She would cut it off, find some way to make herself repulsive, she thought, battling rising hysteria.

  She must find a way to circumvent this trade. She would be defenseless in the clutches of a Leor male. The race was renowned for its fierceness and cruelty—and worse, for its ability to probe minds. It would only be a matter of time before they discerned her secret. No telling what they would do when they discovered she was an Enhancer.

  She showed no more of her inner turmoil to Vaden. Her fate would be far worse if he knew the truth. Besides, nothing could be gained by her protest of his decision. The system of male dominance had been in place on Tra
van for hundreds of seasons. A lone female couldn't battle that system. It had been foolish to argue with him. But she would find a way out.

  She looked down at the desk, cluttered with priceless artifacts Vaden personally claimed from pirating raids. An idea took form, and she was desperate enough to try it.

  "Nothing else to say, I see," he growled, pouring more wine. "I should have known you wouldn't be grateful that I traded you to someone who will keep your bed warm." He waved her away. "Return to your quarters. Tomorrow you'll be bathed and clothed appropriately to meet your betrothed." He eyed her ragged robe with distaste, his attention coming to rest on her breasts.

  Seeing her opportunity, she used her unique power, locking onto his surge of desire, amplifying it, sending lust pounding through his body and the blood rushing to his groin. A momentary diversion was all she needed to act on her idea. As his eyes closed with the overwhelming desire she'd induced in him, she grabbed two jeweled daggers, prizes from his past raids. She left quickly, leaving him to his raging libido.

  Not that her uncle was one to suffer any desire long. "Blazing hells! Stane!" Vaden bellowed as she left and then demanded his usual consort: "Get Sarina here immediately. I need her—now!"

  Once outside, Eirene stumbled back to the bleak women's compound, stunned and frightened. She had no choice but to leave Travan. Her uncle would come after her, of that she was certain. He didn't like being thwarted, plus he'd have to deal with the Leors to whom he'd traded her, and no one crossed them. They'd be furious if the agreement was not honored. They might even hunt her down themselves.

  The sudden rumble of an incoming ship caught her attention. Surely her betrothed wasn't arriving a day early. Her panic intensified, adrenaline flooding her body. She looked toward the orange sky. Hoverlifts surged as a silver ship lowered to the landing pad. It didn't appear to be a Leor ship, but she had to be certain. Lifting her robe, she hurried closer, moving between the trees.

  From the shelter of the copse, she watched the hatch open and the ramp lower. An attractive woman with flowing golden hair strode down the ramp. Eirene was both relieved and astonished. Not a Leor, but a female— clad in a flightsuit, no less! How odd that this woman would come here. Disdaining females and considering them inferior, Travan men traded only with male-dominated cultures.

  The men on the landing pad appeared as surprised as Eirene, turning to gawk at the young woman. Several of them strutted forward, but halted when a second female, very tall and fierce looking, emerged from the hatch, a laser rifle in her hands.

  The first woman spoke. "I'm Captain Celie Cameron. We're here to deliver the Elysian liquor and other supplies that Vaden Kane ordered." She tossed back her hair, looking at the gaping men clustered in a tight group. "Is there a problem?"

  The men glanced toward the second female, who shifted the rifle a notch higher. They shook their heads. "Well then," Captain Cameron said briskly, all business. "I'll need four of you to unload this cargo. And I'd like Commander Kane present to sign off and transfer the funds."

  The men moved to do her bidding, muttering among themselves. It didn't sit well with them to take orders from a woman, but if Vaden had contracted those supplies, he'd be furious if they weren't unloaded. The woman with the rifle watched their every move as they carried the crates from the ship.

  Amazed and heartened, Eirene knew she'd just found her way off Travan. She would stow away on that ship. She didn't care where it took her. She felt inside her robe pocket, her fingers sliding along the hilts of the two jewel-encrusted daggers she'd taken from Vaden's desk. Hopefully, she hadn't inflicted any serious harm when she used her powers on him. After Rayna…

  She pushed back the remorse. She was grateful for the daggers. The jewels in them were extremely valuable. Wherever she landed, she had the means to find her way to Elysia and pursue her lifelong dream. But before all else, she planned to ensure her uncle's agreement with the Leors would be irreversibly nullified.

  She would lose her virginity at the first possible opportunity.

  * * *

  Saron

  Jarek san Ranul downed the glass of liquor, feeling it burn all the way to his gut, but the fire in his throat didn't come close to the pain in his soul.

  "More?" Blake san Damien offered, raising the bottle.

  "No." Jarek set the glass on the bar. "No use drinking myself senseless. Won't change anything."

  "I guess not." Blake refilled his own glass. "I’m sorry about your father. We've lost a good man, and a great leader."

  They'd lost more than a great man and leader, Jarek thought, his heart heavy with grief. They'd lost a way of life, one that had been intentionally and systematically torn away from them.

  Anger warred with his grief, anger that had built steadily over the past fourteen seasons, as he had watched his people being decimated. Their only crime, that they were Shielders, genetically resistant to the Controllers' mind domination. The destruction came in many forms: engineered disease, Anteks, shadowers, slavers, and even Shielder traitors.

  As a reconnaissance scout for his people's pitifully small militia, Jarek had seen it all: entire colonies reduced to smoldering ruins, disease-ridden bodies, the remains from mass executions. Regardless of who inflicted these atrocities, the Controllers were behind every diabolical act.

  "I guess you'll be traveling to Liron to take your father's place as Council head," Blake said, breaking into Jarek's dark thoughts.

  "And do what? Tell them they might as well surrender to the Controllers and get it over with?" He hurled his glass against the opposite wall. It shattered into myriad pieces, just like the Shielder race was being splintered.

  The bartender scowled and activated the vac. The little machine whirred into action, scanning and suctioning the floor.

  "Careful," Blake cautioned, glancing around the nearly empty bar. "We don't need to draw attention to ourselves."

  He was right, of course. Ordinarily, Jarek took extreme precautions, but his riotous state of mind was impeding his common sense. He nodded, running his hand through his hair. "How can I go back?" he demanded in a low voice. "How can I be responsible for the safety and welfare of an entire colony of people, when I can't guarantee their existence for a single cycle, much less a season? I can't even guarantee those on Liron enough food to eat, or medicine and supplies to meet their needs."

  "No one can," Blake argued. "Blazing hells, man, they're coming at us from all sides. None of us can make any kind of guarantees. But that colony needs your leadership."

  Jarek clenched his fists, frustration a bitter bile in his throat. "That's not enough. We're just sitting echobirds. We don't stand a chance if things don't change—and fast."

  "And just how do you propose we change things? Go openly against the Controllers in the hopes of defeating them?"

  Jarek said nothing to that. They both knew that an open assault would be suicide. He hated his feeling of helplessness. He was used to action, and yet there was very little he or anyone could do against the Controllers.

  His thoughts turned to the idea that had been plaguing him for over a season. One that had become a burning obsession, haunting his thoughts, taunting him with its possibilities. If ever there was a time for desperate, foolhardy measures, this was it. "I want to check out the twelfth sector," he told Blake.

  "Why? There's nothing there but a black hole."

  Jarek drummed his fingers on the bar. "Maybe we'd find some sort of natural hyperspace. A wormhole, inside the black hole."

  Blake looked at him as if he were crazy. "What makes you think there would be a wormhole?"

  "Stories about the Enhancers, for one thing. Many believe they used a portal in the twelfth sector to travel to other worlds."

  "Enhancers haven't existed for over two hundred seasons," Blake scoffed.

  "But there are numerous stories about them traveling to other worlds through a vortex. We might be passing up a major opportunity if we don't check this out."

 
; Practical as always, Blake shook his head, doubt etched on his face. "So, maybe there is a wormhole inside the black hole. But how could a ship enter it without being crushed to debris?"

  It was a good question. "I have some ideas about dealing with that particular problem."

  "Okay," Blake said, "for the sake of the argument, let's say you locate this wormhole and travel through it in one piece. Exactly what do you expect to find at the other end?"

  "Shamara," Jarek said softly, the word reverberating through his very soul.

  Confusion replaced disbelief in Blake's eyes. "Shamara? What in the Fires is that?"

  "Sanctuary. Shamara is the Shen word for sanctuary." Jarek stared at his friend, tension humming through him. "I want to find sanctuary for our people. I have to believe there's a way."

  He hated to place all hopes for Shielder survival on one questionable theory. But he didn't see any other options, so he was going to do just that. And pray to Spirit that he was right.

  If he was wrong, the Shielders would soon be extinct.

  * * *

  Massive, overwhelming culture shock. Her wildest imaginings couldn’t prepare Eirene for Saron. She leaned against the rough stone wall of a mercantile, staring all around her. Men and women mingled freely, like equals. Amazing.

  There was the cacophony of bustling activity: masses of people, the babble of voices in a dozen different languages, the roaring of skimmers and incoming ships. Trying to tune out the noise, Eirene started toward the center of the base.

  The activity was also a visual assault on her senses. It was fascinating: The brightly colored clothing; women in flightsuits and leggings instead of robes; the shops selling all kinds of products, wondrous things from all over the quadrant.

  The sensory overload was the worst. The emotional bombardment from the crush of beings swamped her: excitement, greed, lust, anger, fear, violence. She struggled to block them out, succeeding somewhat, but was left incredibly drained.