I will never stop,Sten chided her. Not until you submit. You belong to me.
T’Prynn felt the muscles in her face twitch as she fought to retain emotional control. Sandesjo, facing the food slot, was not privy to her inner turmoil, which threatened to erupt at any moment. I belong to no one, least of all you.
You will never be free of me,Sten said, each word a hammer blow to the inside of her skull. Eventually, you will relent. I have eternity on my side.
Then you will spend eternity in the grips of frustration and defeat,T’Prynn countered, just as you were when I killed you.
The food slot’s door slid upward, revealing a cup sitting atop a saucer and filled with a steaming beverage. Sandesjo retrieved it before turning and setting it on the table near the chair opposite the one before which her own tea sat. Seeing T’Prynn staring at her, she smiled again.
“Join me?” she asked.
Submit,Sten challenged, as he had each day for decades.
Never.
Sandesjo’s smile seemed to have a calming effect, and for a moment T’Prynn thought that Sten might have returned to the darkness from which he had come. Instead, a soothing warmth seemed to be growing from deep within her, radiating outward to suffuse her entire body.
Ignoring the tea, T’Prynn stepped around the table and without another word reached for Sandesjo, drawing her close. Her hand found the back of the other woman’s neck and she brought her forward until their lips crushed together and she forced her tongue into Sandesjo’s mouth. Her free hand slid between the folds of Sandesjo’s robe, pushing past the smooth silk to find the warm, damp skin beneath. She felt hands on her own body, searching for the closures to her uniform, and then there was the touch of fingertips against her own skin. Their kiss remained unbroken and Sandesjo uttered a low moan of desire as T’Prynn’s hands pushed the robe from her shoulders before continuing their frenetic wanderings.
It was not until she sensed herself falling forward that T’Prynn realized she must have lifted Sandesjo off her feet and carried her to the bed in the other room. Sandesjo landed first, on her back, and T’Prynn allowed the weight of her own body to press down upon her. Hands roamed as if possessed of their own will, and T’Prynn sighed with unrepentant lust as Sandesjo freed her from the last remnants of her uniform. T’Prynn pushed herself to a sitting position, straddling Sandesjo’s hips. She looked down at her lover, their eyes locking in mutual fervor before she felt hands on her stomach, moving lower as fingers searched, driven by ardor. T’Prynn moved her hands across Sandesjo’s chest, feeling skin bristle beneath her touch. With the lightest of strokes she traced the curves of the other woman’s neck and the sides of her face. In response to her touch, T’Prynn began to sense hints of images and emotions which were not her own.
T’Prynn?
Hearing Sandesjo’s confused query blending with her own thoughts, T’Prynn did not press her innocuous mental probe any further. For Vulcans, initiating a mind-meld without the consent of the other involved party was considered to be among the most severe breaches of etiquette. Children learning to control their telepathic abilities were taught never to attempt such a noncon-sensual bonding, and that the privacy of one’s own thoughts was inviolable except in the most desperate of circumstances.
The momentary telepathic connection faded, and T’Prynn’s attention returned to the body beneath her. Sandesjo pulled her down onto her, pressing their mouths together, and T’Prynn felt the other woman’s tongue pushing past her lips.
T’Prynn.
She had hoped that any physical activities she pursued with Sandesjo might bring with them some fleeting psionic contact which might offer some insights into the woman’s true identity. Even with that goal in mind, T’Prynn was reluctant to push such mental connection. As the unwilling recipient of a forced mind-meld, she was sensitive to the potential for damage such an act posed for the person on whom the unwanted contact was inflicted. That risk increased when the other party was nontelepathic, as T’Prynn believed Sandesjo to be.
My mind to your mind.
The words rang in T’Prynn’s consciousness, and it took her an extra moment to realize that they had not come from her or Sandesjo.
No!
Without her conscious control, T’Prynn’s hands moved to Sandesjo’s face; to where katrapoints would be on a Vulcan. She felt the pressure of her fingers against Sandesjo’s skin as the other woman’s eyes widened in confusion and fear.
My mind to your mind.
Sten! No!
T’Prynn sensed Sandesjo’s body jerk beneath her just as she felt her own legs wrapping around those of her would-be lover. Her body weight was pinning Sandesjo to the bed, and T’Prynn held her head between her outstretched fingers as Sten’s mocking voice echoed in her mind.
Our minds are merging.
Their naked bodies were intertwined, their faces centimeters apart, and T’Prynn read the anger and betrayal in Sandesjo’s eyes. From the depths of her consciousness, T’Prynn heard Sten’s simple statement of victory.
Our minds are one.
The meld took hold and Sandesjo’s expression went slack, and T’Prynn was gripped by the sensation of falling through darkness. That gloom just as quickly faded and she found herself standing in a small, dimly lit room. A mirror, dirty and scratched, hung on a stone wall before her, and when she looked at it she was greeted by the reflection of a Klingon female, her long dark hair flowing past her shoulders and accentuating the line of prominent ridges extending from the bridge of her nose up and over the back of her head.
I am Lurqal. I am Klingon, a servant of the Empire.
Everything disappeared in an explosion of pain, and T’Prynn could only stand and watch as her Klingon reflection morphed, her features cut, stretched, and reshaped. The ridges dominating her forehead melted, replaced with lighter, smoother skin. Her hair grew shorter and lightened in color, framing a new face, that of a beautiful young human female, which now stared at her from within the mirror.
Anna Sandesjo.
• • •
Get out of my head!
Sandesjo tumbled to the sand, feeling the weight of her opponent crashing down upon her. His breath was in her face, hot and pungent with the stench of unchecked anger. One hand clenched into a fist and he brought it down, smashing the side of her head. She lashed out, hearing his grunt of pain as the edge of her hand struck his face.
We are one, T’Prynn.
Where was she? How had she gotten here? All around her was sand, surrounded by ornate stone pillars. Somewhere out of her line of sight, someone beat drums in a rhythmic cadence, the tempo increasing with each passing moment. Sandesjo had never seen this place, and yet there was a familiarity she could not understand, just as she knew her opponent and the unrestrained desires which now guided him.
You are mine.
No!
Sandesjo struck out once more, her fists pummeling Sten’s chest. He ignored her attacks, his hands reaching to grasp her head so that he might pull her to him. Placing her hands on his chest, Sandesjo pushed back from him, but she was pinned to the sand, unable to move. Sten leaned closer, his face filling her vision.
Reaching up, Sandesjo felt her hands tighten around Sten’s throat. Even as her fingers dug into his skin, Sten pressed closer, his eyes burning with unrelenting need.
Submit.