The Ultimatum Read online

  Novels by Susan Kearney coming soon from Bell Bridge Books

  Kiss Me Deadly

  Dancing with Fire

  The Challenge (Rystani Warrior 1)

  The Dare (Rystani Warrior 2)

  The Ultimatum (Rystani Warrior 3)

  The Quest (Rystani Warrior 4)

  Island Heat

  Solar Heat

  The Ultimatum

  Rystani Warrior 3

  by

  Susan Kearney

  Bell Bridge Books

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events or locations is entirely coincidental.

  Bell Bridge Books

  PO BOX 300921

  Memphis, TN 38130

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61194-342-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-61194-322-1

  Bell Bridge Books is an Imprint of BelleBooks, Inc.

  Copyright © 2006 by Hair Express, Inc.

  Printed and bound in the United States of America.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  A mass market edition of this book was published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC, a Tor book in 2006

  We at BelleBooks enjoy hearing from readers.

  Visit our websites:

  BelleBooks.com

  and

  BellBridgeBooks.com.

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Cover design: Tara Adkins

  Interior design: Hank Smith

  Photo credits:

  Couple © Tara Adkins

  rock (manipulated) © NASA, ESA, and M.Livio and the Hubble 20th Anniversary Team (STScI)

  http://hubblesite.org/gallery/album/nebula/pr2010013a/npp/all/

  Lightning storm collage showing the power of nature (manipulated) © http://www.positiveflash.com

  http://www.dreamstime.com/stock-images-lightning-storm-collage-image28006174

  Stars (manipulated) © NASA, ESA, and the Hubble Heritage Team (STScI/AURA) -ESA/Hubble Collaboration

  http://hubblesite.org/gallery/album/nebula/pr2007034a/npp/all/

  Blue clouds (manipulated) © NASA, ESA, and M.Livio (STScI)

  http://hubblesite.org/gallery/album/nebula/pr2008031a/npp/all/

  :Euih:01:

  Dedication

  For my husband Barry—with lots of love.

  Thanks for putting up with me for forty years.

  Dear Readers

  The Ultimatum is my third book in a series that began with The Challenge and The Dare. While each book stands alone and contains its very own hero and heroine, I hope that if you enjoy this book and have missed any of the others, you’ll read them, too.

  Every time I finish a book, I think making that particular story come to life was the most difficult one yet. The Ultimatum was no different. My heroine, Dr. Alara Calladar, comes from a culture unlike any I have ever envisioned. Due to her biology, she looks at the world in ways that are unusual—not just to twenty-first-century humans, but also to her enemy, a Rystani star pilot who lost his homeworld to her people. Writing The Ultimatum taxed my brain. Yet that’s also part of the fun of creating new worlds, new societies, new cultures—and letting my imagination run free. Once I finally finished the book, I was glad I’d pushed the envelope. The Ultimatum made the USA Today Best seller list and I’m happy it’s being re-released in print as well as e-formats.

  So what’s up next? The Quest! Kirek finally gets his own story, and I couldn’t be more pleased. Kirek was born in hyperspace in The Challenge, he was a child Oracle in The Dare, and he’s featured prominently in The Ultimatum. And wait until you meet the heroine I picked for him. Feisty!

  I always enjoy hearing from readers, and you can reach me through my Web site at www.susankearney.com

  Best,

  —Susan Kearney

  Prologue

  “MAMA. DON’T LEAVE me.” Dr. Alara Calladar sat beside the pallet she’d made for her mother in her bombed and caved-in laboratory and gently held her hand. “Please don’t go.”

  “I have . . . no choice.” Her mother opened her eyes, and the cloudy haze of pain that had been there for days suddenly cleared. She gripped Alara’s hand with fierce strength. “You must go on without me.”

  Alara’s throat tightened, but tears spilled over her cheeks. She might be a woman fully grown, she might be the most educated woman scientist on Endeki, but she still needed her mother. But her mother had closed her eyes again, leaving Alara alone, trapped in the cave in.

  What the krek had happened to cause the blast in their home above them? She still didn’t know.

  Four days ago, she and her mother had entered Alara’s underground laboratory to check her latest experiments. While her mother wasn’t a scientist, she’d been a teacher, and she often helped Alara clean the lab, answer calls, and pay bills, but mostly she encouraged her independence.

  They’d been chatting about a play they both wanted to see when with no warning, the basement floor had shuddered like a quake. Only Endeki didn’t have quakes or seismic tremors like so many other Federation worlds. Instinctively, mother and daughter stumbled toward one another. Fell. Part of the roof caved in. Dirt and powder rained down, sending up clouds of dust, but thanks to the suits every Federation citizen wore, they could filter the dirt from the air and shield their bodies from the debris.

  In the darkness, Alara had crawled to her toppled desk, found an emergency light, and discovered that huge beams blocked the stairs and their exit.

  Digging out from beneath the debris proved an impossible task. They’d been trapped down here for days, and while their suits kept them warm and clean, they had to conserve their emergency lighting. They had no food and only a few mouthfuls to drink. Now, air was in short supply.

  Yet, even suffocating would have been better than watching her mother die cell by cell, listening to her draw each tortured breath. Due to the unusual connection between Endekian husbands and wives, her mother had instantly known that her husband, who had been in the house above, had died in the blast. Her father’s death had set off a physiological chain reaction in her mother’s cells. Alara could describe the process in scientific terms. But all of her extensive knowledge couldn’t prevent the inevitable—her mother’s death.

  Alara couldn’t imagine what her mother must be feeling. Although the marriage had been terrible for years, her mother had claimed that she’d once loved her father. As for Alara’s own feelings, she could only rage at her father for putting her mother through hell while he’d been alive. If his demise wouldn’t soon cause the death of Alara’s precious mother, she wouldn’t have minded his passing. She doubted she’d ever forgive his many cruelties to his wife and daughter.

  Her mother had always tried to protect Alara, and her impending death was no different. She’d kept the truth from Alara for two entire days, suffering in silence, bravely enduring the agony of every organ and tissue failing. But she could no longer conceal her pain.

  To lose the woman who had brought her into the world hurt so much that Alara didn’t know how she would go on without her—if she survived the cave-in. That all of Alara’s education, all her science couldn’t stop her mother’s biological reactions made her feel helpless, trapped by biology she hated.

  “Did you hear that?” Her m
other’s eyes opened again.

  Drawn from her grief, Alara listened and smoothed back her mother’s hair and tried to make her voice cheerful. “Rescue workers are coming. They’ll get us out.”

  Despite what had to be immense pain, her mother offered a weak smile. “Knowing you will live, I can die . . . with peace.”

  “No, Mother, please. We’ll heal you.”

  “It’s not possible . . . for me.” Her mother licked her dry lips and spoke with more strength than she had in days. “But you . . . you must continue your research . . . so other women won’t die for no reason.”

  Alara could barely speak through her sorrow. “I can’t do it without you.”

  “Promise . . . me . . . that you’ll never forget . . . that you’ll never give up . . .”

  Alara choked on the words. “I promise.”

  1

  SHE NEEDED A MAN. But she sure as krek didn’t want one.

  Dr. Alara Bazelle Calladar shoved aside her test samples and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Success had once again eluded her. Success would mean freedom from the Endekian biology that drove the females of her species to have sex—whether they wanted to or not—or face a painful death.

  But, instead of answers, she was left with too many blasted urges.

  She’d hoped to find a remedy soon. Too bad she wasn’t going to succeed today, not in time to prevent her own elevated hormone levels from driving her away from work and into the arms of a man, any man, to satisfy her biological compulsions.

  Just once, she longed to give in to frustration and smash something. But the only items at hand were the DNA maturation receptacles that housed her experiments, materials too precious to sacrifice in a fit of temper.

  “Alara.” Her assistant and good friend, Maki, interrupted her thoughts, the voice echoing through the com system. “You have a visitor.”

  “I’m busy.” Busy was code for putting off whoever was interrupting her work until another day, a day when she wasn’t so frazzled. Under normal circumstances, her research was difficult, but during the beginnings of Boktai, Alara’s elevated hormone levels made unclouded reasoning as elusive as a Denvovian sandworm that’d grown wings. As if in anticipation of mating, the pathways that transmitted reflexes to her brain had fully engaged. Due to increased blood flow to her tissues, her lips already tingled, her breasts were tender.

  “He’s . . . insistent.”

  “He?” Alara snapped her head up from the array of test samples, too few of which showed any sign of promise. Science required patience, and normally she had plenty. But with her metabolic rate rising, just the mention of a man caused her heartbeat to escalate, her patience to dwindle.

  “Oh, he’s one hundred and ten percent male,” Maki practically purred, and Alara imagined how the man would preen at Maki’s compliment. He’d no doubt entered the reception area puffed up with the confidence of a blowfish, certain he was wanted and worthy of female attention. Very likely, he wasn’t—though only a few of the women on her planet were enlightened enough to notice. Endekian men treated their women no better than their favorite canine, and they would never change—not until women no longer had to offer up their bodies to them on a regular basis in order to stay alive.

  But while it took a lot of male muscles to impress Maki, she still wouldn’t have interrupted unless she believed the man important.

  Alara swore under her breath, annoyed that in her current metabolic state, she would react to the unidentified male just like every other Endekian woman whose hormonal system demanded sex. After she lost control of her psi and failed to filter out his male scent, she’d inhale his pheromones, and she’d find him irresistible—even if he turned out to have no more charm than a sand flea, no more brain cells than a slime slug, no more sense of humor than a Terran terrorist. In the early phase of Boktai, her enhanced senses would enflame, deepening her desires, quickening her yearning, until she transformed into a rintha—an undiscriminating female who required sex with every needy cell in her body.

  Alara welcomed the temptation of a male in her lab and in her life as much as she’d welcome a political debate over the ethics of her research. Both were irritating, painful—but a fact of life. She had no use for men—not until she had no choice. In fact, the few rare males who deigned to enter her laboratory were often those who sought to discourage her from continuing her work.

  Why wouldn’t they? Since Endeki had come into contact with worlds in the Federation, their women had discovered something amazing. On other planets, women were not trapped by their bodies into having indiscriminate sex. They chose their partners for a variety of reasons—attraction, amusement . . . love. On Endeki, only biology and genetics came into play, giving the men a lifetime supply of sexual pleasure and the women an eternity of slavery to their own bodies—and ultimately, to the men with whom they bonded.

  Alara glanced at the wall, where she’d hung a holopic of her mother, taken shortly before the Terran terrorists’ bombing of her city—Terrans who had been aided by Rystani intel. She’d watched her mother die in agony, and then she’d gone on . . . alone.

  She had raged, mourned, and buried both parents before she’d repressed her grief with work. As the sole survivor in her family, she’d studied harder and become more determined than ever to unravel the secrets of Endekian physiology. She wanted women to be free of the curse of Boktai.

  She could never have foreseen that the government would choose her survival as the symbol to rally the masses against the Terrans and the Rystani. Alara had used her newfound celebrity to prevent the government from closing her lab. However, as the anger against the Terran-Rystani plot that had killed so many abated, she’d become less useful to the government and had fallen out of favor. With the current unpopularity of her work, she wouldn’t be surprised if the visitor were here to close her lab.

  “Alara.” Maki’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s bristling with attitude.”

  “I told you to tell him I’m busy.”

  “I tried.” Maki’s tone conveyed vexation. “He refuses to make an appointment.”

  “Use your imagination. Get rid of him.”

  “I’d be perfectly willing to take him home for the night.”

  “Then do it.”

  Maki breathed out a delicate sigh. “I tried. But he wants you. He said he’s willing to wait as long as it takes.”

  “Oh, for the holy structure of atoms.” Alara shoved back from the table. “He can wait out front all through the dark hours. I’m leaving through my personal entrance.”

  Alara picked up the disk to start her flitter and headed out the back of the facility. She intended to go home, soak in a hot bath, and take care of her growing arousal. Self-gratification was only a temporary solution for her cravings, one that would work for a short time and only if no male was present. Experience told her she couldn’t hold out much longer and that within a day, two at most, she would lose control of her psi and her will, forcing her to seek out a male.

  With a quick retina scan, Alara unlocked her back door and stepped outside into the balmy dusk. Automatically, almost unconsciously, she used her psi on her suit to shield her from the cloying humidity. Anxious to be on her way, she didn’t pause to take in the city lights beyond her building but headed straight for her flitter, climbed in, inserted the disk, and revved the engine.

  “You were leaving without speaking to me.”

  A deep male voice, filled with vitality and a hint of humor, arrowed from the back seat and struck her full blown, causing her to jerk in surprise.

  She used her psi filters on her suit, and just in case her control had weakened, she also held her breath, refusing to allow his scent into her lungs, but just the sound of his husky male tone kindled inevitable biological reactions. Her nostrils flared, automatically seeking his provocative aroma. Her heart’s alp
ha rhythm escalated. The pulse between her thighs quickened, and blood rushed to her sensitive breasts. Her suit cupping her skin seemed inadequate when her flesh suddenly yearned for male hands to caress her, seduce her, satisfy her.

  However, she was not yet so far into Boktai that her brain had abdicated completely to the demands of her body. She still maintained enough psi control to remain clothed, but thinking was becoming more difficult. But she must . . . think. The man had anticipated her escape out the back of the facility and had followed her.

  He had some nerve. “This is my flitter. Get out.”

  “Not until we have a conversation,” he countered, his don’t-think-about-avoiding-me-again tone deep, determined, yet almost teasing.

  Conversation? Ah, the combination of her needy cells plus the rumble of his voice must be clouding her thoughts. He was not here to mate. He was probably here to speak to her about the laboratory and her work. Aware that her long-ignored bodily needs would react to the sight of him, she refused to turn around. The moment the receptors in her eyes detected his male shape, her enzymes would elevate her hormones to the next level. In her worsening condition, he could be as ugly as a slime-covered Osarian, yet if she stayed in his presence long enough, her will to resist wouldn’t matter—lust would ignite her synaptic reflexes.

  She spoke through gritted teeth. “Make an appointment with my secretary.”

  “I don’t have time to delay. Neither do you.”

  “Exactly. We agree. I don’t have time,” she practically growled. “Go away.”

  “Are you always so friendly?” His voice revealed more curiosity than sarcasm.

  “Are you always so pushy?” she countered and took in a breath. Clean, musky male scent wafted to her nostrils, downshifted into her lungs, and revved her olfactory nerves into third gear. By the mother lode. Why did her psi have to fail now and let in his aroma, which reminded her of sweet grasses and summer rain? Surely no other Endekian male had ever smelled so incredibly delicious.