"The Bonding Bracelet of Jatar, once received, cannot be removed, Guardian."

The voice again. The Warder guy, or whatever he called himself, was back. Good! He wanted answers.

"Okay, I don't know how all this works, but I hear you loud and clear," Jag spoke the words aloud.

"There is no need to vocalize, Guardian. Your thoughts are heard and understood."

Jag tested the concept. "Who the freak are you?" he shouted mentally.

"As previously answered, I am Sitnalta's Intelligence Interface. We are linked."

"Linked how? How did you get in my head? How do I get you out?"

"Listen carefully, Guardian. You are the chosen Guardian of Sitnalta. The dire circumstances facing the peoples of this world, and your own, necessitated the choosing. It is irrevocable. You must respond. I will assist you in the ways of Guardianship, as will the girl. Submit willingly, learn, and grow in the power of Jatar, only then will the choosing complete its purpose."

Jag heard the words, but comprehension wasn't part of the package.

"And if I don't submit, what happens then?" Jag scanned the room for the tenth time. if he could just find the guy behind the voice...

"Probability factors indicate an impending loss."

A glimpse of recognition played with Jag's reasoning. He was a top-level gamer, after all. Probability factors...could it be...?

"Hey, Ward, you're a computer, right?"

"For your present abilities of assimilation, that is an acceptable assumption. I am the Warder."

Relief poured over Jag like cool summer rain. A computer couldn't control him. It was a matter of finding the programmer or the IT guy for this place and getting to the bottom of this practical joke.

"That is impossible, Guardian. My creators no longer live. Your assumptions as to my fundamental nature are finite in scale."

The girl moaned and turned on her side, facing him, drawing his attention. Still asleep, she drew her knees toward her chest and stretched an arm in his direction, her hand reached to lie limply on the side of his bed.

He stared at her, taking in her long silver-blonde hair and dark lashes that looked as if the tips had been dipped in silver paint. A small nose and pouty mouth made her look younger than the obvious body curves indicated. Two things struck him at once. She was a stranger and she was his. The last thought caused him to jerk sideways, nearly toppling him from the bed.

"Yes, Guardian. The girl now belongs to you. She is your bonded mate."

"Okay, I've had enough. This isn't funny anymore." Jag shouted aloud, moving off the bed to stand. "I don't need some kind of bonded servant or slave. I'm leaving now. You guys can play your games with someone else."

He stalked toward the door, but with each step, a foreboding dread drained his strength. He paused at the door, wanting desperately to open it. Something deep inside cautioned him, impelled him to stay. 

Why this battle? Why couldn't he just reach out and open the door, confront whatever lay on the other side, and leave this place? The girl...the girl called him back, not with words, but how?