Setting me carefully to my feet, E.J. stalks over to the door and wrenches it open.

"Ye—"

Before she has a chance to finish her first word, the person on the other side is shoving past her.

"I can't believe this. Jonathen, don't—" the small woman flings her hands up to ward away E.J's touch. "Don't do that. I can't believe you didn't tell me directly that you were coming. Did you think I wouldn't find out? That you wouldn't see me? And the only reason you even showed up at all—"

Her big silver eyes narrow as they fix on me, and her nostrils flare. She crosses her arms over her chest, tossing wild, inky black hair. As I watch, the skin exposed by her streamlined gray sheath and flowing pants—her shoulders, arms, and clavicle—begins to harden and take on a sheen like polished marble, cracked at the joints.

"So, this is the one. The one you'll make the grueling journey out here for when you won't even come for your own Cir—"

"We are not doing this right now," says E.J, voice low, jaw set. "You want to talk? We do it on my terms."

Her eyes flash to me again, brimming with acid. "When, then?"

E.J. sighs through her teeth. "Tomorrow. After my lecture."

I look from our uninvited guest to her. "Your lecture?"

She shakes her head minutely, mouthing "later."

"Fine. Meet me at eight. At The Weasel's Wife," orders the Petran.

E.J. groans, and the woman bristles.

"What? Not good enough for you now?"

"No. That's fine. I'll see you then."

The woman frowns up at her, and the translucent, veined stone covering her skin begins to form sharp little spurs.

"Do you promise me? Or are you going to cancel and—"

"I promise you, Song. I'll be there."

"You had better be."

Turning on her heel so fast she whips E.J. with her hair, Song marches out the still-open door. E.J. hurries forward to shut it behind her, then turns to lean against it, looking to me.

"I'm sorry."

My fingers twist in my sleeves.

"What...what was that all about? Was she about to say Circle? You're in a Circle? And you never...you never even told me?" My voice hitches and breaks, tears rising all too readily to the corners of my eyes. My power sparks, but I fight it back.

"No, Ash, I—" her hand flies to her hair, and she leans back against the wall, sighing. "I was in a Circle, once. But it was a long time ago, and it's...it's hard to talk about. Very hard. I just hadn't gotten there with you quite yet, but it's not something I deliberately hid."

The pain in her eyes strips away all thoughts of myself, and I reach forward to squeeze her hand. There's only one way of breaking a Circle, and I can understand why she wouldn't want to talk about it.

"It's alright, J. You don't have to say anything more. Not until you're ready."

Her lips turn up in the smallest of smiles, her fingers unlacing from her tousled hair. "I like it when you call me that. I think I'd like it even more if you called me Jonathen...but only sometimes. Only then. Or better yet, Zhadra." Her eyes spark, but I set my jaw—I won't allow myself to be distracted. Not just yet.

"Hakka and Song called you Jonathen casually," I observe, not sure what to think of it.

She narrows her eyes. "Yes. Most people called me by that name, once. But these days, it's something I like to keep closer. More private."

"And what is this about a lecture?"

"Ah," she scratches at the back of her head. "It was the only way I could get them to agree to let me come on such short notice. They've been trying to get me to lecture here for years, but I just never have the time. I'm guessing whoever I replaced on the guest lecturer's docket is none too happy with me, though," she smirks.

"So...do I get to sit in on it?"

"Sorry, students only," she says. "But you're welcome to explore Isle Orca while I'm at it."

I raise an eyebrow. "None of the other islands?"

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Her expression is apologetic. "Not without me to accompany you."

I wrinkle my nose for a moment, then laugh.

"What?"

"It's like I'm your little pet, here," I say smirking up at her and grasping hold of her tie to pull her in close. "But I'm not sure I mind that idea so much."

She freezes with her face just a handspan from mine, grinning wolfishly.

"Oh? You don't? Is my all-powerful Lhura asking to wear the collar, for once?"

"I'll wear anything you want to put around my neck," I say, freeing one of my hands to snake its way over to hers, guiding it upward. She catches on quickly, her long hand wrapping about my throat, squeezing at the sides. My eyes roll back and a gasp escapes my lips, my knees turning to jelly beneath me. Fortunately, we're not far from the bed. Still holding me by the neck, she forces me backwards and down onto the plush mattress. The clean, fluffy blankets. I sink into them, her body trapping me, pressing along the length of mine from above. So much taller than me, so much stronger.

Another small sound escapes me, something between a moan and growl of impatience. The faintest crackle of purple energy lights the bedding around me, but I suppress it quickly.

"Well done, my little beast," she whispers into my ear. "My beautiful spirit. My Lhura."

"Jonathen," the name flows past my lips before I mean to use it. She groans and grinds her body closer. "Are really you sure?"

"So long as you are. I'm not sure what it is. But I feel different here, better. I'm not afraid anymore. Not right now."

When I protest no further, she forces my legs apart with her knee and kisses me, hard. So hard I can feel my lips bruise beneath hers. My fangs catch her teeth and I let them, drawing a single drop of delicious, fresh, undiluted blood. My tongue darts out to catch it, and a sigh escapes my lips to breathe across her face as I pull back the slightest bit, savoring.

"Spirits," I sigh. "I want more."

"Only if you're good."

I strain upwards towards E.J, lips reaching again for hers, but she pushes me back down onto the bed with an iron-like grip around both my arms.

"Lay here," she orders. "Don't move, except how I move you. Don't allow yourself to flare."

I swallow. "A-alright. Yes."

Her brilliant, luminous eyes flash and narrow, drilling into mine.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, my Zhadra."

"Good girl." She dips back down to me, pressing her lips to my neck. My back arcs as she kisses her way down my neck to my collar bone. Then she pulls my top down to expose my breasts, exploring those with her lips and teeth as well. Her hands travel beneath my skirt to cup my hips as she begins to kiss and nip at the soft planes of my stomach. Then they travel inward to squeeze at the soft flesh of my thighs before prying them further apart.

A heartbeat later I feel the warmth of her breath between my legs. But then she goes rigid.

"Perhaps it is too soon for this," she says, letting my skirt fall and pulling away. A sound escapes me, something I can't describe. A desperate sound. More purple light twines around me. Again I manage, somehow, to dampen it.

"Too soon for my lips, my tongue, my teeth...so close to where you're so vulnerable...where your flavor is so potent. But there are other things."

I writhe compulsively, grasping for her hand.

"I had something more in mind," she says, standing up and out of my reach as she goes over to withdraw a black case from her main trunk.

Then she turns from me. I bury my face in the blankets and clutch at them. When I hear her pad close again, I look up at her. Her shirt and tie are off, revealing her sleek black bra and the sculpted planes of her broad shoulders. The hard lines of her stomach. The hollows where her hips dip below the waistline of her pants, which are open at the front and riding low. Black leather straps arch up over her hip bones, holding in place a cock that's a work of art unto itself. I don't recognize the material it's sculpted from—but it's gunmetal gray with a subtle iridescence, slick with lubricant.

For a moment, I can't speak. Then I glance up at her.

"This is one of your own creations," I say. It's not a question.

Her lip lifts in a crooked smile. "Only the best, for you. For us."

I scoff a bit at that.

"It's more than it looks," she says. "If it works properly."

I raise an eyebrow. "You haven't tested it yet?"

"I've been saving it."

"So what you're saying is...you're making me your hamster-pig again. Experimenting on me."

"Experimenting with you. And it's perfectly safe. That much I know. I've used the same technology in other prosthetics."

"You didn't really have to convince me," I laugh—but there's a pained edge to it. The pain of my need for her. She hears it, feels it, falling onto me again to dig her teeth lightly into my neck. Lightly for her, at least. The stone-metal cock grinds against my leg, and it's actually warm, and so close to—

"Promise me you'll tell me the instant it becomes too much, no matter how much you don't want to." She moves, positioning herself at my opening, just barely parting the flesh.

My hips buck against her, but she pulls back.

"Promise."

"I promise."

She drives into me. A cry rips its way up from the back of my throat, primal and ecstatic, and my hands grasp for her hips, but she catches hold of them with both of hers. Her fingers become shackles about my wrists as she slams them back down—forcing me into submission.

A tremor runs up and down her body as she thrusts again and again, harder each time, faster by the heartbeat. Stars burst before my vision, and I can feel the energy mounting. My lips part to say the words—but she feels it too.

Or maybe she stops for some other reason. Remembering I have eyes, I pry them open to look up at her. She's breathing hard, not just from exertion but obvious pleasure, trembling with the effort of holding herself back.

"It works," she says, her voice ragged, breathy, growling. Her lips quirk, exposing her lightning-flash canines. "I feel you. I feel every bit of you as if this were my own."

I stare up at her, marveling. Then I flex around her, pushing upward. Her eyes go wide, and she pants a bit harder.

Oh spirits, she really does feel it.

I do it again and she growls in truth this time, squeezing my wrists so hard that the pain almost edges past delicious. Almost.

"I thought I said to be good."

I just bite my lip and look back at her.

"If we keep going, you'll flare."

I don't argue with her, instead locking my legs about her hips in an attempt to hold her to me. She breaks it easily, pulling out of me, away from me.

"No," I groan. "J—"

"No wiles," she cuts in, jabbing a finger in my direction as she works at the leather straps with the other hand. "It's probably for the best, anyway. Phase One begins in..." her eyes flash to Somi.

"A little under an hour," provides the servitor.

"A little under an hour," repeats E.J, buttoning up her pants as I roll my eyes. "Oh, and I think that rabbit-fox might be eating your luggage, by the way. Great idea, bringing that along."

I turn from her to glance at my open trunk just as Mittens pops her head up out of it—a ragged, stringy chunk of my favorite sweater hanging from her jaws.