Shayla, an illegal empath, needs a job--badly. Unfortunately the only job available will take her to another planet working undercover with Gavin, a Siren--a sexual vampire. She’ll just have to resist her attraction to him long enough to complete her job and get back home.

Gavin’s employer, the Jheknan Security Organization, has saddled him with a female agent--an empath. Considering that his real agenda is the opposite of his employer’s, this is not good news. If she discovers what he is doing, all of his people could be endangered.

Indulging in their explosive desire for each other could put them all at risk, but they’re going to have to work together to save Gavin’s people.  Somehow they have to manage it all--and find happiness for themselves, too.

EXCERPT:

Chapter One

              Shayla stared at the poisonous green letters announcing the sender of the new message. The Jheknan Full Employment Office. “Damn!” She counted backward quickly to her last job. It had been ... four months ago. A wave of queasiness rushed through her. She had lost track of time. How could she have been so stupid?

              She leaned her head against her hand and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Visions of crowded, poorly maintained subsidized housing cells danced through her brain, followed by images of the tasteless but healthy food served in the government cafeterias. It was enough to keep you alive -- they were careful about that. But making it enjoyable smacked of waste and coddling.

              She had done the whole trip for two endless months when she’d first come to Drobery six years ago. She had survived physically, but being constantly surrounded by the other government clients and their emotions had almost dragged her down into the abyss. The depression, the hopelessness, the loneliness -- struggling against the waves of negative emotion had taken every bit of strength she could gather.

              She did not want to face it again.

              She knew the message was still there. She wasn’t going to wake up and find this was a dream, and pretending would only put off the inevitable. With a deep sigh, she opened her eyes. When she touched the screen of her ancient computer, her fingertip felt cold. You have exceeded the maximum time allowed without work. Report in person to the Full Employment Office.

              She remembered that place -- remembered it with dread. She had spent a number of miserable hours there after moving here. With a tap, she closed up the computer and turned to face her room. It wasn’t much -- it was only a small room with a bed, some cheap but beautiful tapestries, her clothes, and a small collection of entertainment chips -- but it was hers. She had earned it all herself.

              After arriving in the city, she had tried many jobs, but nothing worked out. Her damned empathy caused problems one way or another every time. When she finally tried acting and her empathy actually helped, she breathed a sigh of relief and figured that she would work her way up to full-time employment. But it hadn’t worked out that way. Many theatrical productions used computer-generated actors instead of live actors, so the availability of work depended on the current fashion. As a source of income it was clearly not enough; she needed another occupation.

              Maybe she didn’t belong here on Jheknan. She was an empath -- an unrestricted, illegal empath. The penalty for being unregistered was time in prison -- and they would install the inhibitor chip. Some people tolerated the chip, some people went crazy, and the older you were when it was installed the more likely you were to break. Shayla didn’t know how she had escaped getting the chip as a child, but by the time she realized that she had empathic abilities she knew enough about the chip to hide her talents. That made it impossible to apply for the best jobs.

              There had to be a settled planet somewhere that would welcome her and her abilities, but it would take her decades to save enough money to afford a ticket to even the closest planet. And it had restrictions against empaths, too.

              She stood shakily and leaned against the window, looking out at the crowded street several stories below. She loved watching people from the safe distance provided by her third-floor room. The quiet privacy had never seemed so wonderful as it did now that it was threatened.

              She had to fix this somehow. One thing at least she had learned about government bureaucracies: delaying the process served no useful purpose. They would only be harder to deal with later. She might as well get the interview over with. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her cloak from the hook and headed out.

              Janis, her roommate, was curled up on the soft couch, reading the daily news on her personal comp, absent-mindedly chewing on a strand of her long, light-brown hair. She was still in her sleeping clothes, since her job at a gallery didn’t start until early afternoon.

              Shayla wrapped the cloak around her shoulders. “I’m going out for an interview. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

              Janis looked up and raised her eyebrows. “Interview? What interview?”

              Shayla scowled. “The Full Employment people want to see me.”

              “Shayla, I’m so sorry.” Janis put down the news display. “You didn’t get your hours in this quarter?”

              “I guess not. I hadn’t been paying attention.” Shayla sighed. “Do you know anybody that’s casting right now?”

              Janis shook her head. “No. It’s off season, and money has been tight. Most of the theaters have been doing audience participation shows instead.”

              Shayla bit her lip. “Looks like I’m going to have to find some more job options.”

              “It does look like you need to cast a wider net.” She looked down at the news display in front of her. “Look at this ad for personality adjustments. What about something like that? Have you ever thought about relationship counseling? You’re always doing it for free.”

              Shayla rolled her eyes. “And just how would I advertise? Non-registered empath will take money and give advice?”

              “Damn, I keep forgetting that you aren’t legal.” She shook her head. “We’ll think of something. Go talk to the jerks. When you get back, we’ll brainstorm.”

              Janis’s very real concern warmed Shayla. At least she had friends now. That was a huge improvement over six years ago. “Thanks. I can use all the help I can get.”

              She waved and headed for the stairs instead of the people-mover to the ground floor. Exercise was better for her in this state anyway.

              Outside it was a cool, gray day, like most days in Drobery. The jokers claimed that Drobery had two seasons -- dark and rainy, and light and rainy. Occasionally it was clear and sunny, and when that happened the whole city took a holiday. People headed to the beaches, the parks, and the hills outside the city. Shayla liked the cool, moist grayness, but a long stretch of it could be depressing. Today it matched her mood perfectly.

              The buildings were a mixture of permofab structures from the settlement of the planet and every architectural fashion since then. Any kind of building you could want -- square, rounded, intricately decorated, plain -- as long you wanted pastel. Pastel blue, pastel yellow, pastel green, pastel pink. The pastel covered hills were beautiful in their own way, and she loved the sheer familiarity. Drobery had been so big and frightening when she had arrived here from the small, rural city where she had grown up. Now it was home, even if it wasn’t a perfect home.

              She passed several neighborhood cafés crowded with people drinking stimulants and socializing with friends. Bookstores, art galleries, licensed sex shops, virtual stim parlors, old-fashioned art vid theatres: the old quarter was stuffed with all kinds of creative and marginal businesses. Those who believed in sin -- like the Reformed Messiah cultist preaching on the corner -- probably thought it was the source of all sin in the city, too. But she had walked around all parts of the city, and she knew that the old quarter had not cornered the market on sin. The suits in the downtown offices were just as lustful as the musicians and writers hanging out here.

              As she walked south, she passed the offices of lawyers, insurance companies, importers, and less identifiable businesses tucked into the smaller, darker alleys. Finally she reached the block of government offices between the old quarter and the financial and business center of the city. The Full Employment Office was a bland but irritating peach color. She scowled at the outside. It ought to have a skull and crossbones or some other ominous symbol; it ought to be colored something dark and lurid. But of course they were pretending that they were destroying people’s lives for their own good, so that would’ve been too obvious.

              There were two other people in the waiting room. Shayla gave her name to the uninterested clerk at the counter and plopped down on a cheap turquoise ceramic chair. It was impossible to find a comfortable position, and the air smelled stale and musty. One of the men waiting looked like he hadn’t bathed in about three weeks. She breathed in deeply and changed her estimate to four weeks. Her chest tightened. She hated being lumped in with this total loser.

              Finally her name was called. With a resurgence of the queasiness of anxiety, she went through the open door to a back hallway, and then into a small, even more stuffy office. The bureaucrat sitting behind the desk looked like she was trying -- but failing -- to assume an expression of sympathetic support. Her skin was dry and dusty looking, her smile tight. “Hello.” She glanced quickly at the comp on her desk. “Shayla. I’m Quara Shot.” She looked down again. “You’re an actress?”

              Shayla nodded and then realized that Quara wasn’t looking at her. “Yes.”

              “You haven’t had any paying work in more than four months, is that right?” Quara looked up through narrowed eyes.

              “I guess. I’ve worked with Jerrod Herglass and the Artful Viewer, but they haven’t done any new performances lately.” She felt like a child called to the principal’s office for not doing her homework, coming up with inadequate excuses.

              “You do realize that if you don’t get your hours in, your stipend will be reduced to forty percent standard, and you will be required to live in government housing?”

              Her skin got cold and clammy. “Yes, I do know that.” And she knew that it forced her to deal with judgmental, obnoxious bureaucrats like this one. Maybe that was why these people were so difficult. It was a form of punishment.

              Quara peered at her, then turned back to her holo keyboard. “The first thing that I’ll do is search requests for employment. Sometimes we find that people are not searching well enough or are too picky.” She paused, frowning at something on the screen. “You’re not too picky are you?”

              “No, I’m not too picky.” Shayla repressed a scowl as she realized that Quara had enjoyed making her say that. She wished she could turn off her empathy. Without it, she could have pretended that this woman really was helpful and sympathetic.

              Quara tapped away while she waited quietly. She felt a surge of surprise and looked up. Quara looked puzzled. A few more taps, and the comp display opened up on a flat, white area on the wall of the room.

              “You’re in luck. A job is listed that you might be qualified for.” Quara frowned. “You probably wouldn’t have found it because it lists acting as a backup skill. It’s an unusual job. It’s just a short contract to start with, but there’s the possibility for additional contracts if they’re satisfied with your performance.”

              Shayla looked at the display. Jheknan Security Organization. Her head felt light. The spooks. The Organization. The government bureaucracy in charge of spying, covert operations, and national security. God, she was in for it now. If they found out that she was an unregistered empath ...

              “I’ve connected your profile with the job. You’re scheduled for an interview tomorrow right after lunch. Details will be sent to your personal comp.”

              She fought down her fear and cleared her throat. “I’m required to interview for this job? It’s not a real acting job.”

              Quara lowered her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “It matches your profile well enough. It would look very bad on your record to turn it down. And you’d be required to go straight to reduced stipend.”

              “No, that won’t be necessary. Appointment tomorrow. I’ve got it.” Shayla stood up. “Thank you for your help.”

              Quara waved her hand. “You can show yourself out.” She turned back to her desk as Shayla quietly left the room.

              It was raining. Shayla turned her face up and closed her eyes, letting the wetness cool her face. Maybe they wouldn’t find out about her. She had made it this far without being discovered. The Organization was just another bureaucracy. She would be just another employee. Finally she sighed and turned toward home. The only way through this mess was forward.