She'd been wandering around naked since her ship crashed, and her personal pod had released her from cryogenic freeze. Had anyone else made it out? The ship had held a full crew and one other passenger besides her. It had exploded in a fiery array of reds, yellows, and oranges, but she'd seen no one else from the ship. The roiling smoke had spun through the towering trees and into the afternoon sky in twists of black soot. Since no rescue party had responded to the crash, she assumed she'd landed in an uninhabited area.

“Hellooooo!” Her voice echoed over the frozen landscape.

With each moment that passed, she felt her strength draining, her ability to reason slipping away. She struggled to collect her wandering thoughts, to plan how to save herself. Fading in and out of consciousness, she wondered how much longer she could last without shelter. She had no idea what planet she was on. She should have landed on Aquatilis, where her brother worked as a marine geneticist, but Aquatilis was almost completely covered in water, and she was in the middle of a mountain range. Something had gone seriously wrong. There weren't supposed to be any other inhabitable planets in this solar system, but she could breathe and the gravity was almost normal. Where the hell was she?

Kesuk had seen the fiery explosion in the distance and had come to investigate. His sentries fanned out to surround the clearing. The feud with the Browns had just been settled, but it looked as though they wished to start again. He heaved a weary sigh, his paws crunching through the thick sheet of ice as he drew nearer the inferno. Would they never learn?

Their leaders smiled and bowed to his face while their warriors slaughtered his livestock and stole his women. He slid his tongue over his long fangs, enjoying the idea of catching them breaking the pact. His young daughter might enjoy a Brown slave. A low growl of pleasure rumbled through his chest at the thought. He hadn't started this feud, but he'd finish it.

Relishing the prospect of a good fight, he quickened his pace. Rolling his shoulders, he stretched into a lumbering run, his long strides eating the distance. Pricking his ears, he stayed alert for signs of an ambush.

“Help me.”

The ragged cry sounded to his left, bringing him up short. His breath snorted clouds in the icy air as he waited to hear it again. Padding lightly, he crept between the trees, winding his way toward the origin of the noise.

A woman. A woman unlike any he'd ever seen. Naked, glorious, tiny, her short tufts of brown hair sleek against her skull. Her eyes drew him, greener than the leaves of a Sitka tree. He ran his tongue down a curved canine tooth, eyeing her softly curved form, the thatch of tight dark curls between her slim thighs. Perhaps it was not his daughter who would gain a slave this day. Her sudden appearance and odd coloring demanded he examine her more closely. His men would investigate the explosion and seek him out to report their findings. They knew their duty because he trained them well.

Foolish of her clan to allow her out alone. What was she doing in the borderlands? Her skin was too pale to be a Black or a Brown. He sighed in regret as he drew near. Perhaps she was addled; such birth defects or misfortunes were known to happen. She wandered through the snow, her broken gait and dazed expression making it obvious she would freeze to death. And soon. He raised his nose to the wind, trying to catch her scent. She wasn't of his clan, that much he knew, but she was on his land.

She belonged to him.

Cuthbert’s nostrils flared. He had the slightly wide and flat nose of a merpeople—all mammals on the planet had been genetically engineered to have their breathing passages lined with gills. His turquoise gaze slid over Bretton’s shoulder in the direction of Sera’s quarters. He narrowed his eyes and jerked his chin, indicating that Bretton should follow. “I worry you’re getting too close to the human, son.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say.” Bretton’s jaw flexed. He had no desire to speak of Sera. He knew he should cease his relations with her, but what he should do and what he did were two very different things with her. He’d worked hard to perfect himself—as did all merpeople—but with her… He cursed himself for his weakness and her for twisting him into knots.

Cuthbert grunted, working hard to keep pace with Bretton’s longer stride. “You have a duty to your people. You don’t have time to become entangled with someone like her.”

“Like her?” The question ground out between Bretton’s clenched teeth. While he knew he shouldn’t be involved with Sera, it angered him to hear others speak poorly of her. She wasn’t a mermaid, so why did so many try to force her to act like one? But he could never vent his frustrations. In public, he had to act as though he was constantly improving himself. Before Sera, he hadn’t had to act, he had simply been what he should be. And anger and frustration—involvement with an imperfect woman—would cause scrutiny he didn’t want. He was a political figure, constantly under surveillance for any slip in demeanor.

“Emotional. Volatile. She’d make a poor mate for an ambassador. Especially the chief ambassador. You have an example to set. The ambassadorial corps must be cool, logical, and socially adept—she is none of those things. She’s the kind of woman who expects love in a mating.”

Bretton rolled his eyes. “Neptune forbid.”

“This is no jest, Bretton. I’m deadly serious.” His father caught his arm. Rabid intensity shone in his gaze.

Bretton snapped to attention and nodded. He knew what his father said was true. His hands balled into fists at his sides, but he kept his tone respectful. “I understand, sir.”

“Do not confuse physical compatibility with the makings of a suitable mate.” Cuthbert’s voice took on the lecturing tone he’d used when Bretton was a child. It grated to hear it now when he was a grown man.

“Sera is not Mother.” No, his mother had disgraced their family and left his father to live on a sea cow ranch at the very outskirts of merpeople civilization near the lost city of Pacifica. In doing so, she’d exposed them all to scorn for straying from the path of vigilant self-improvement. It had ruined his father’s career. He’d never be elected a senator or make the chancellorship as so many Hahns had before him. Now his father expected Bretton to fill the breach, to be everything Cuthbert could not.

His father gave a derisive snort. “Every woman is like your mother. I refuse to see you make the same mistakes I did.”

Bretton pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his father was correct. Mating with the wrong woman had all but ended Cuthbert’s political aspirations—and Bretton had no right to dishonor his family like his mother had. He smiled, but it held no amusement. It had taken the Senate very little time to realize that Sera didn’t respond well to authority—and the only one who had any luck garnering her cooperation was Bretton. So she’d become his responsibility. Regardless of his official duties, he had to stop seeing her in a personal manner. Had to stop touching her, lusting after her, dreaming of her.

Starting now.

He heaved a weary sigh and ran a hand across his forehead. The trade ship was the most important function of his position each Turn, and letting Sera distract him was an error he couldn’t allow himself.