The Rea Cheveyo Chronicles: Talyss by Rayne Forrest/KC Kendricks

A 2007 EPPIE finalist
Book two of the chronicle

The story continues as a suspected smuggler leads the captain of the Rea Cheveyo on a chase to the truth

Talyss of Warlonah had a definite plan for her life. One look at Heath Douglas and everything changed. He thinks she’s a smuggler and her only option to safeguard the truth is to avoid him, but Heath follows her every move.

Captain Heath Douglas of the Rea Cheveyo has always had a curiosity about the feline-like Sheadonn. Spotting the Warlonah’s Glory far off the shipping lanes, he’s immediately caught in a cat and mouse game with that ship’s captain, the beautiful Talyss.

Matching wits, Talyss and Heath dance around the truth of her activities. Matched physically, they explore their passions. Talyss has the right to take Heath as her lover but there is one truth she cannot escape. As a daughter of Warlonah she must produce an heir—and one without human blood. 



Talyss could do nothing but watch as Heath picked up his drink and carried it to her booth, sliding in across from her. He motioned to the server, and then looked at her.

“Please, order what you like. I owe you that much.”

“You owe me more,” she replied.

“Doubtless you are correct. But let’s start with whatever you’re having to eat.”

“Now you turn agreeable. Did Colonel Dayshaun order you to make friends?”

“No. He suggested I avoid you.” It was a candid admission, and true.

“As captain of the Rea, you should take his advice.”

“I will, for the most part. If he’s satisfied with your manifest and log, I will be, too.”

“The cargo in my holds matches my manifest,” she said flatly. 

His face underwent a subtle change. Him being human, she wasn’t sure what it meant.

“I’m sure it does. Now.”

Bastard. “You would taunt me?” She made a show of examining her deadly nails.

“No, I wouldn’t try that.” He turned his attention to Atticus, who had finally meandered over to their table. “The lady will order now. Please charge it to my account.”

Atticus nodded and looked expectantly at Talyss.

“What’s the most expensive item on your menu?” she asked, holding Heath’s gaze.

Atticus didn’t miss a beat. “Steak, imported from Terra. Sorry, but we’re out of it right now. The special today is soosha with your choice of any of our rice dishes.”

Heath grinned at her. “It’s good. Tastes like Terran pheasant.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Should I be impressed that you’ve tasted Sheadonnyan food? I’m not.”

“One special, Atticus, with ubbar rice. And lemonade for the lady.”

Her annoyance level increased. “I’d like Deneb Delight, please,” she said to Atticus. 

The barkeep just nodded and headed for his kitchen. Talyss focused her full attention on the tall male quietly watching her.

“What do you really want, Douglas? They gave you that fancy ship, and now you think you can control whomever you wish?”

“Control is a very subjective thing,” he replied, his voice level. “I really want to know what you were doing out in the middle of nowhere between Adonica and Jericho Bruis.”

“I told you!” 

“And I don’t believe you.” He sipped his tea. “I think you’re the smuggler.”



The memory of how she felt in his arms burned him. Heath wanted, he needed, to hold her again, to feel her pressed against him, thigh-to-thigh.

Talyss was about to board a shuttle pod and walk out of his life. There was no guarantee of any sort they’d ever cross paths again, unless he very carefully schemed and plotted to make it happen.

She finally looked at him again, her amber eyes full of disquiet. He slowly reached for her, grasping her elbow and gently pulling her closer. She resisted for the briefest moment, and then stepped into his embrace.

Heath slipped one arm around her waist, holding her loosely. He didn’t want her to feel trapped or threatened and pull away. He didn’t want her to react unfavorably with those sharp nails. He brushed the silky strands of her long mane from her shoulder, smoothing it down her back.

He carefully slid his fingers into that glorious mahogany mass and cupped the back of her head. She went perfectly still. Only her eyes moved, searching his. He sensed her waiting, opening her being to his. The soft strands of her hair drifted through his fingers, a silken web that snared him, drawing him into her.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. Her lashes swept down. He tipped her head back and kissed her. She jerked in surprise, then opened her lips to him. Her arms slipped around his neck and tightened. It was all the encouragement Heath needed.

He spun them, pinning her between his body and the viewport. She arched into him. He threw caution away and touched his tongue to hers. She jerked again, then responded, slowly running the tip of her tongue over his lower lip. The blood pounded through his veins, deafening him. He hardened in a wonderful rush.

He pressed his hips to hers, making sure she was aware of his arousal. She made a noise deep in her throat and clung to him. His balls throbbed. His cock ached. Gooseflesh shivered across his skin.

He nipped his way down her neck. Like her face, her neck was virtually furless, the skin soft under his mouth. Her hands had worked under his shirt and were cool against his overheated back, making him shiver.

“Heath,” she moaned, throwing her head back in invitation and request that he keep kissing her neck. He eased them toward the bed. She hurried him along, overbalancing them onto the mattress with him beneath her.

His hands skimmed along her sides, feeling her curves. She was less hurried, more deliberate. The breath left him as she boldly stroked the bulge in his pants, cupping her hand around and over to learn his shape and size. He grasped her firm buttocks and pulled her to him, then rolled her beneath him.

Surprise that she didn’t protest registered in the back of his mind. He pressed his advantage and cupped her breast, caressing the outside swell with gentle strokes. He kept kissing her, their tongues mating and dancing. She gave back to him all that he offered up to her.

She suddenly took a great gulp of air and pushed at his shoulders. He rose up enough to look at her. Her eyes were bright and alive. Her hands made small, nervous movements, playing with his collar.

“I must breathe,” she told him.

Heath swallowed, and then inhaled deeply. “Me, too.” He was panting as rapidly as she was. “Am I too heavy?”

Her arms tightened around his neck. “No. Don’t move.”

“I thought Sheadonnyan females objected to having a male lying on top of them.”

She locked her legs around his hips. “What would you know about it, human male, hmm? Don’t move.”


A 2007 EPPIE Finalist
Book 2 of the Rea Cheveyo Chronicles

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