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contract. Felice would do it again, in the same circumstances. In a heartbeat.
    Kieran had said he was a slave, so Bor Narga must tolerate some form of servitude. Felice had never heard of Shareem, despite her research into the worlds of this system. Then again, she’d only been able to snatch quick sessions at any terminal, downloading everything she could to the microdot she’d managed to smuggle out when she’d fled. If facts about Shareem were restricted, chances of her coming across the information were small.
    Felice could sneak away from him—she felt better now, the metabolism she’d honed working to return her to full strength . . . but she was so comfortable . She hadn’t slept on a bed this soft in ages. The hard slab of metal on the ship was all she’d had, plus a blanket she’d carted around with her. The blanket had holes, but throwing it away and risking illness hadn’t been an option. Catching a cold in the bowels of a long-haul freighter could mean death.
    Felice had been forced to leave everything behind, including her only change of clothes and the blanket, to get away from the freighter when she’d had the chance. The thin sheet over her now, keeping out the dry chill of the bedroom’s air, was the ultimate luxury.
    The bed wasn’t huge, and it was crowded by Kieran. He took up a lot of space, but he was comforting. Warm, holding her, rumbling in his sleep. It was like snuggling up to a bear.
    Felice was hungry, and more water wouldn’t hurt. She had to figure out what to do about clothes, not to mention a place to go, and money. Slaves were fed—barely—but if Felice was to survive on her own, she had to have cash. She could work; she’d search for a real job, with pay. She might be able to get herself into decent fighting shape again, but she didn’t want to go back to that life. That way lay memories of betrayal and broken dreams.
    Would she have to run away from Kieran? Or simply explain she wanted to go?
    She remembered the extraordinary sensations that had washed through her when he’d nipped her, and again when he’d kissed down her spine to her buttocks.
    If whoever had interrupted hadn’t come to the door, what would have happened? Felice shivered, and not entirely in fear.
    The movement made Kieran’s breathing quiet. His eyes opened, blue in the gloom, and he smiled. Instead of saying a word, Kieran gently turned Felice to face him, and he kissed her.
    Warm, firm lips parting hers . . . Kieran slid his hand to the back of her neck, drawing her up to him. He kissed her lightly but powerfully, his mouth opening hers, eyes closing as he deepened the kiss. He swept his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, caressing her.
    His hand cradling her head kept her from pulling away, but he didn’t pin her, didn’t force her. Felice kissed him back, finding a taste of warm spice and a bite of coffee.
    Kieran lightly kissed her upper lip, then he licked it. Next he nibbled both lips, sending pleasant fire through her.
    He had such unusual eyes, Felice thought as he looked at her. Felice swore the irises had spread through the whites, but maybe that was a trick of the light.
    “I don’t kiss,” Kieran rumbled, as he brushed back a lock of her tangled hair. “I’m a Dom. Not a level one.”
    Felice had no idea what this meant. “You just did kiss me,” she pointed out. And she hadn’t minded one bit.
    “Yeah, I did.” He gave her a slow smile. “I liked it.”
    Felice felt suddenly shy. “I liked it too.”
    Kieran firmed his hand behind her neck and pulled her to him again. Their mouths met with more determination this time, Kieran’s lips warm, insistent.
    Felice pushed aside her fears and worries and enjoyed the kiss. Nothing existed right now but this man, whoever he was, his hot kiss in the darkness, his body against hers.
    Kieran rolled Felice down into the bed and slid on top of her. Their bare bodies met, skin on skin, her breasts against his hard chest, but he did