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rooms,” Creed said instantly. He didn’t want to be alone in his house with the blonde. She was walking, talking, breathing temptation. And if he gave in to her siren call, he was unsure if he would ever find the tattered shreds of his control.
    The pilot nodded. Then she bent and hefted two bags, one expensive looking red leather with gilded fasteners, the other utilitarian, scuffed. “Lead the way.”
    Creed reached for the red bag, and she handed it to him without a word. Carrying it, he led the way along the passageway and through a set of wide, double doors into the passageway to his house. All the buildings were linked with passages wide enough for a hovie cart, so that in bad weather or if they were under attack, no one had to go outside to get from one to the other unless they chose.
    “Thank you for bringing in my bag,” the blonde murmured behind him. Taara, Stark had called her. A name as pretty and fluid as her curves.
    “No problem,” Coy said. Her voice lowered, not meant for his ears. “You’ll be okay. Creed Forth’s good people. But I’ll be nearby tonight. You can link me if you ... y’know. Need someone to talk to.”
    Creed’s shoulders tightened. What did the pilot think he was going to do, jump the blonde the minute he got her into a room?  
    A pause, then a whisper. “Really? That’s so sweet.”
    “Hey, we girls gotta stick together, you know?” Clearly meant to make the blonde laugh, and it worked. A little chuckle whispered over his skin, leaving behind the sensation that he’d been stroked  
    “You gonna be okay?” the pilot added.
    “I don’t know,” the blonde whispered. “I—I was supposed to stay here for a while.”
    Creed’s shoulders tightened, along with his jaw. Damn Logan to the seventh hell. He’d chosen the worst temptation of all. Had he sent a bold, confident female, or one who oozed sensual aggression, Creed could have turned her away easily.  
    This woman made him want to protect her, to reassure her that nothing and no one would be allowed to hurt her. Made him want to keep her, at the same time he knew he must push her far away.
    At least this was what he thought he knew.

Chapter Four
    Creed dreamed again. And this time, when his nighttime muse came to him, she had a face and a definite form, as well as a voice he now recognized.  
    ‘Come to me,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll take care of you.’
    And he rose and went to her, his body hard and aching with desire that was centered in his groin, his cock so hard it pierced the air before him like a weapon.  
    ‘You’ll take this?’ he asked her, palming himself, showing her. Praying desperately that she wouldn’t turn him way, wouldn’t find him wanting.
    Her eyes never left his. ‘Yes. I’m supposed to be here.’
    She walked toward him and his body shook with the force of his conflicted emotions—want and need, anger and fear. Fear that if he broke the bonds on the years of aching desires, the storm would sweep him into the maelstrom, destroy him. And take his hard-won self-respect with it.
    ‘Hey, wait,’ cut in a new voice.  
    He looked over and saw the pilot in the door of his room, frowning at him. She shook her head.  
    ‘Don’t give in,’ she said, her voice sliding into the deeper, serene tones of his Zhen master. ‘Temptations of the flesh will destroy you. You must control them, or they will control you, you know this.’
    ‘But I’m supposed to be here,’ Taara repeated. And when he looked back at her, tears welled in her green eyes and slid down her face.
    He froze. Fear, he understood and anger. But tears? They were messy and complicated.  
    He shook his head. ‘No. No crying.’ His own voice rumbled in his ears, filled with the echoes of other, uglier voices from deeper in his past.  
    ‘No crying, boy. Do what we tell you, or else.’
    “No! Leave me alone. Get away from me!”
    The sound of his own hoarse shout woke him. Creed opened his eyes and lay there,