Shannon fumed in helpless anger. The first direct attack on Cortin's
new team--one he admitted to himself shouldn't have been made, but that
he'd found irresistible--had been a total disaster. The troopers had
been outnumbered more than two to one, yet they had still routed his
men, as far as he knew taking no casualties while claiming eight kills.
Worse, he'd had to let one of his own go before death. It was always
unpleasant to lose someone useful, and when that one was sworn to him,
it was humiliating as well.
Worse, though, was his near-certainty of why Cortin and her people
would be taking another of his to a remote security area, when that one
was a near-perfect medical match. Restoring Cortin's sexual function,
and the use she would make of it, would cause severe and possibly
critical damage to the use he had been making--and intended to continue
making, if she didn't reclaim it--of human sexuality. Especially the
new virus-enhanced version, which offered such delicious possibilities
if properly redirected and emotionally loaded.
Was there anything he could do to prevent it? Degas, a former
Brother--though unfortunately too young then to be properly sworn to
him--was on Cortin's team. It was possible he could be blackmailed
into cooperating . . . though that would mean using his power, since
security at a Royal retreat was so tight. Cortin would have to be
sedated for the surgery, maybe for part of her recovery time as well,
and it should be safe enough to use them while she was drugged. If he
only knew when she'd be under!
But without that knowledge, he decided regretfully, it would be wiser
to refrain. The Adversary had pointed out that timing was crucial; he
simply dared not take the risk of rousing Cortin's power too early.
* * * * *