Iris has been a prime hunter to her people, but when the Citadel calls can she refuse the chance to go stellar with her talent? Of course not.

Iris has used her ability to dream her target’s location to gain recognition and to be the most efficient hunter she could be. The psychic knives that appear at the ends of her hands help her to stun rather than kill prey when a death is not necessary. Nothing escapes her, not livestock, not lost people. Anything that runs, she can hunt.

When the Citadel calls on her to help find a lost object in an alien jungle, how can she resist the urge to test her skills on another world?

Venin is a throw-back shifter of the Azon variety. He has the ability to embrace his peoples’ most ancient form and use the instincts that accompany it to his advantage.

Partnering with Iris is not his first inclination but once he gets to know the hunter, he wants nothing more than to sprint with her in the wild and test out both of their basic instincts to the max.

Excerpt:

Her mother interrupted Iris’s morning tea. “Iris, did you really kill two beltharo yesterday?”

Iris sipped and blinked at her mother. “Did you really substitute low fat for all of Father’s cream?”

Ravon Markee blinked in shock. “How did you know that?”

Iris tapped the side of her nose. “I can smell it. Plus, Father has been complaining about it for two weeks.”

Ravon took a seat across from Iris and poured herself a cup of tea. “That is cheating. Do you think he knows?”

She chuckled at her mother’s blush. “Yes. If I can smell it, my father can smell it. He is simply humouring you. Why are you doing it?”

“He has been getting a little heavier around the midsection. I just wanted to keep him fit and healthy.”

Iris laughed at her mother’s mutterings. She inherited not only her mother’s looks but also her strange urge for low-toned conversations.

“Now, peapod, what happened yesterday? I thought you were attending your ceremonies. It was a little shocking to have them announce you as Prime Hunter and not have you there.”

“I was called away to rescue a lost woman from a few towns over. Teddi and Torth got a good workout and I stunned two of the beltharo with my knives.”

“Did anyone see?”

“The young woman saw, but she is unlikely to speak of it. Something about a beltharo trying to kill you has a tendency to blur social niceties.” Iris offered her mother some scones.

The baker had been by early in the morning, as had the farmer. Iris had bought her supplies for the next few days, including butter and milk. She grinned at her mother. “The cream is full fat.”

Ravon grinned. “Thank the stars. It has been harder on me than it has your father. Do you have any butter?”

Laughter spilled out of Iris as she and her mother exchanged pleasantries over scones, muffins and tea.

“Your father and I had an interesting visitor yesterday.” Ravon took a sip of her tea and smiled.

“Did you? That’s nice. Visitors are always welcome and interesting ones are so hard to find.” Thwarting her mother’s teasing was always entertaining and a very easy thing to enjoy.

Her mother let out a gust of air. “Fine. The Citadel has heard that there is a morinial in our town and they want to meet her.”

Iris leaned back in her chair. “You don’t say. How do they know it’s a she? And why did they come to you?”

“Your father does have certain status as mayor, you know.”

“What did he tell them?”

“He would look into it and get back to them today.”

“He is so very politic when he has to be.” Iris smiled. “I did wonder how long it would be before someone spoke out. What was the Citadel offering?”

“They were very vague. Something about a position and an assignment to seek out something. They seemed eager.”

Iris looked at her chiller and the breadbox. “If I am away for a few days, can you eat my food and weed my garden?”

“Of course, peapod. Do you think you will be gone long?”

Iris cleaned up the dishes and washed them in the sink. “Well, Mama, last night, I dreamed of the stars.”