Bloodline. Maggie Shayne

to join us, you’ll be entrusted with more. A great deal more. Our history, case files from which you will study and learn, physical training, and mental training, as well. But all of that is for later. And you don’t have to make any decisions right now. Stay with us for a few days. Recover your strength. We’ll begin searching for clues about your baby. Maybe she’ll be the one who leads us to the rest of the missing Chosen.”

      “Yes,” Terry said. “Just be our guest and relax. If you want to go back to your old life in a few days, that’s fine. We’ll trust you to keep your knowledge of us secret. We know you will, because we’re the only hope you have of finding her.”

      Serena nodded. “You’re right about that. I wouldn’t betray your secrets. But I don’t need a few days to think about it.”

      “Careful, Serena,” Ginger said. “This is not a decision that can be undone. If you join this sisterhood, you join for good. There’s no going back to your old life.”

      “I have no life to go back to. All I had was my baby. And I’ll devote the rest of my life to searching for her and making those who took her pay—and making sure they can’t keep doing this to women like me, to babies like mine.”

      Ginger slid a look at Terry, who shrugged.

      “I’m sure,” Serena said, looking from one to the other. “I want to join the Sisterhood of Athena.”

      Ginger nodded. “So be it, then. I’ll make arrangements for the dedication ceremony. But you’ll still need a few days to recover, and to prepare. There are lessons, meditations. But tomorrow is soon enough to begin.” She turned to the other woman.

      “Terry, why don’t you show our new sister to her rooms now?”

      The Present

      Ethan opened the rear door of the stable, and it swung wide onto a grassy moonlit meadow, five acres, enclosed by a white wooden fence that seemed to rise and fall with every curve of the ground. A bubbling stream bisected the meadow, providing a supply of fresh water. And beyond the meadow, the trees began, then thickened into a full-blown forest that stretched all the way to the mountains that formed a backdrop to the view.

      He loved it here.

      He went back inside and opened first one stall, then the other. His companions knew without being told that it was their time to romp, and they trotted out of their stalls and straight through the open back door, barely pausing long enough to accept Ethan’s strokes as they went.

      Ethan watched them as they moved. The second they emerged from the building, they tossed their manes and cut loose into a full gallop, whinnying in joy as they raced into the night.

      No one liked being shut in. Being captive. Even knowing they would be released each night, the horses always reacted as if they’d been locked up for years and were just catching their first taste of freedom.

      They felt, he thought, the way he’d felt when he’d escaped from The Farm. The way he still felt, every single evening, when the sun set and he awoke to freedom.

      He took a fork and shovel and moved into the first stall to begin the usual soothing tasks of cleaning the stall and putting down fresh bedding.

      He wouldn’t risk his freedom for anything. Not even for Lilith. God, he wished his brother were here to tell him what the hell to do about her. She could be lying. She could be faking the amnesia. She could have been sent to kill him. It was, after all, inevitable that they would send someone sooner or later. And even if she wasn’t the one, she could have been followed, all the while being totally unaware of it.

      She was a risk. A threat to his freedom. So why the hell hadn’t he sent her packing?

      Lowering his head, he realized why. Because it would do no good. To send her away would risk her telling others where he was. The only way to ensure that never happened would be to keep her here—or kill her.

      He paused in his work, leaning on the shovel’s long handle and closing his eyes. He knew damned good and well that he couldn’t kill her. He’d wronged the woman. He’d been racked with guilt ever since he’d been forced to leave her behind. And he’d wanted to go back for her—but he hadn’t.

      Because he would have had no chance of surviving. Because he hadn’t even known if she was still alive. Because he’d thought if he could only find his brother first, maybe the two of them could save her. And most of all, because he’d known she would refuse to leave that place without taking every other captive along with her. And that would have been impossible.

      So he hadn’t gone back for her. And he knew damn well that part of the reason he wasn’t telling her the truth about how they knew one another was because it would mean admitting what he had done. That he’d saved himself and left her behind, and that had been eating his soul bit by bit ever since.

      Finishing the stall-cleaning in record time—because leaving her alone in his haven made him nervous as hell—he returned the tools to their places, closed the rear door and headed out the front, then along the winding pathway back toward the house.

      Through the window, he saw her, a silhouette backlit by the fire’s amber glow, and the sight of her stopped him in his tracks. She was beautiful.

      For years at The Farm, he’d watched her from a distance, and early on, he’d feared for her. Almost weekly, she would be punished for refusing to submit to the rules or learn the lessons or vow obedience to the DPI. More recently, she’d been in trouble for trying to stir revolt in the others. The two of them had barely even talked. But eventually she’d noticed him looking at her when they passed on the compound. The DPI kept their captive males separate from the females. They were closely guarded, their every moment scheduled for them, from lessons and training to limited recreation. They were told when it was time to take to their cots in their barracks, and told when it was time to rise and begin another day. Even their bathroom and shower usage was rigidly scheduled. There was little time to form friendships or have casual conversations.

      He always saw her among a line of girls as they walked from their barracks to the classroom. He would be in a line of young men, walking the opposite way, after combat training.

      When she noticed him, she looked back. And she kept looking. Day in and day out, that was their only communication. Until that last night, the night he’d left.

      That night, he had crept into her barracks, hoping against hope that there would be some way to take her with him, avoiding the guard, risking everything for this one moment. And as the others slept, he’d slipped silently between the two rows of cots, straining his still-mortal eyes to see each sleeping face, until he found her.

      She lay awake, eyes open, but not truly seeing. She’d been in isolation for the past week, drugged, punished for her ongoing disobedience. He couldn’t imagine what had been done to her. And he didn’t want to.

      He thought she’d been aware of him, even in her stupor, ever since he’d climbed, awkwardly, through the open window, and he’d paused momentarily when he met her curious, unfocused eyes. Then, when she opened her mouth to speak, he quickly put a finger to his lips to silence her.

      At last he moved closer and knelt beside the cot. She rolled onto her side, propped her head on her hand, too weak even to hold it up otherwise, and stared at him, a thousand emotions in her eyes. A thousand questions. And a yearning that could not be concealed, even by the drugs still coursing through her veins.

      Without a word, he cupped her face between his palms, leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers. He felt them part, felt them tremble, and then felt the warmth of her breath as she released it all at once. At last her arms slid around him, and his body caught fire. He kissed her more deeply, more passionately, and she responded with an eagerness that thrilled him. On and on they kissed, until someone in another bed stirred, and the sound made them jerk apart all at once.

      She was breathing hard. So was he, and nearly too aroused to force himself to stop. He’d never kissed a woman before that night. He was certain that she was every bit as innocent as him.

      Leaning