The next afternoon found Jayce once again stretched on his bunk. This time he had music playing loud enough to keep him awake. He wasn’t going to risk another dream. Drifting with the eerie sounds of his ancestor’s cedar flute, he was neither fully awake nor really asleep. The rap on his door jolted him back into the present.
Jayce swung his bare feet off the bunk before padding across the floor to fling the door open. He was ready to growl at the unexpected caller. None of his friends were on base right now, so there was no one who should be looking for him. He didn’t feel the least bit sociable.
The sound died in his throat. Had his wishful hunger materialized the object of his desire? Could it really be Balt Donovan who stood there, armed with a hesitant smile? Balt wore the silver sl
