Parallel Seduction Page 15

  Rubbing his brow, Jared wondered what the impetus had been for her latest dietary request. "When did she ask this?"

  "Just today, Your Highness … came in here and said the smell of the baking chicken made her feel ill. I immediately removed it from the oven. Right away, sir."

  Jared nodded, but the revelation didn't make much sense. Why would Kelsey suddenly be turned off of her natural diet? It was confounding indeed. Perhaps she worried that she was making unique demands? Jared wasn't clear at all; Kelsey had never been afraid of expressing her needs.

  "Cook, did she say anything else?" he ventured.

  "Only that she required baked potatoes." The cook began to laugh. "Several of them, my lord, that's what the lady said. Requested that they be 'loaded,' whatever that means. I didn't want to ask her; no, I didn't."

  "Loaded? Like a gun?" Jared scratched his head, more puzzled than ever.

  "So she said, sir." The cook gave another slight bow. "Perhaps you might ask my lady what she means about these gun-like potatoes? I'm afraid of asking, sir. Just afraid to rankle a lady when she's … you know. In that way."

  Jared planted a hand on his hip and stared at the man who had served his meals for the past six years. "In that way, Cook? What way? The way she wants these heavy ammo potatoes? You must explain this culinary situation to your commander."

  His cook actually blushed. "Ah, sir, never you mind me." He gave a light wave, then blustered his way back to the stove. "Just go and ask the lady."

  The doctor had agreed to a confidential visit, not in the quarters that Kelsey shared with Jared, but in Thea and Marco's smaller rooms. Thea had, of course, grinned conspiratorially at her request. "Oh, I so hope this is it," she had whispered in Kelsey's ear, giving her an impulsive, heartfelt hug.

  Now as the two of them sat on Thea's loveseat, waiting for the doctor to arrive, Kelsey felt the need to backpedal a little. Maybe she'd jumped the gun based on flimsy evidence: The strange burning in her belly that hadn't stopped since last night, and her revulsion when she'd encountered the smell of cooking meat. It wasn't much to go on, not really, and even more than that, the timing just didn't add up to a pregnancy. Not this soon, alien or not.

  "Thea, I might be wrong." Kelsey turned sideways on the sofa, hugging one of the pillows against her stomach. "It can't even be possible, not really. We just made love last night."

  Thea beamed at her, raising an eyebrow. "And you've also been making love for almost a month, right?"

  Kelsey bowed her head, feeling her face flush. "Of course, but the feeling"—she patted the pillow where it rested over her belly—"this fiery sensation really only began after we made love last night."

  "Which would make perfect sense since he's in heat." Thea's eyes sparkled mischievously. "I can sense it. He's been in season for a few days. And he's been in high heat for the past day or so. He's totally fertile, burning up with it, so if it were going to happen, now would be the time." Thea fanned herself, her fair face suddenly flushed. "Oh by the gods, at this rate, Marco might be next, what with all the pheromones flying about the lodge."

  Kelsey cast a curious look. "Marco? But he's not a royal. Why would he—"

  "Oh of course Marco would not." Thea made a great show of looking extremely mortified, then quickly changed the subject. "I believe my thoughts are clouded by all the excitement. Kings in heat, queens with babe. I am not an easily excitable woman, but … well, I suppose you would forgive me, given Jared's current condition?"

  Kelsey couldn't help laughing. In this culture, so much of the emphasis was on the males: their fertility, their ability to father children, their hormones. It was utterly foreign to anything Kelsey had ever imagined, much less lived. "Well, really it's my potential condition, right? He's not the one about to get a pregnancy test."

  "No, but he's the one in high heat. A true miracle, Kelsey. Many, you must know, believed it would never happen for him."

  "So I heard." Kelsey closed her eyes, trying not to cringe from sheer embarrassment; it was just too bizarre that her sex life was literally a subject of intergalactic interest now. But as awkward as the topic was, she needed to understand more about how all the alien birds and bees really worked.

  Slowly Kelsey opened her tired eyes again, meeting her friend's gaze. "How are you so sure about Jared and his"—Kelsey made a set of air quotes with her fingers—"condition?" Even putting it that way made her cringe in embarrassment.

  "I'm an intuitive; of course I know. I see it on him, smell it." She smiled almost shyly at Kelsey. "Besides, I've been cycling since I was a teenager, so I can sense it in any male of my kind. The royal blood … calls out, I suppose you'd say. To me, I mean."

  Kelsey rubbed her knees, glancing toward the door. If the doctor would just arrive already, then maybe they could stop speculating and really get down to the truth. "But I might not have even been ovulating. Just because it's the right time for him doesn't mean it's the right time for me."

  Thea laughed, shaking off her question. "It's all about his seed. It doesn't matter what's happening in your body. In our species, it's the male who sets the stage and brings about conception. You've got to remember, he's not human, Kelsey … I know it's easy to forget."

  "But if the egg doesn't, well, drop down in there—"

  "His essence draws it out. Plain and simple." Thea rose to her feet, patting her arm. "Stop worrying so much! Of course you're pregnant."

  Kelsey pressed a hand to her cheek, flushing even more. "Just like that, huh? I'm totally carrying his baby?"

  Thea moved to the door, opening it before the doctor who stood on the other side of the threshold had even knocked. With a glance back at Kelsey, she said, "Some things, my lady, an intuitive will always understand." She waved the doctor in. "This man will confirm what you and I already know to be true."

  Kelsey had the bizarre urge to run giggling from the room, at the sheer absurdity of every part of their unfolding royal drama. Yet the doctor who approached her gave a low bow, only reinforcing the fact that nothing about her life was a dream—and that she was, in fact, most likely pregnant with a future alien king or queen.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hope climbed out of the tour van, blinking at the bright morning light. Crisp mountain air filled her nostrils, and although she couldn't make out solid details of the landscape, she gathered that they were in a large rest area, everything covered in heavy snow. She trailed her fingers along the van door, not sure of her surroundings.

  Jake took hold of her hand, slipping it through the crook of his arm. "Just stick with me. We'll be pulling out of here in a few more minutes."

  The motors of numerous snowmobiles droned around them, diesel and gasoline fumes filling her nostrils. She heard the loud lurch of motors turning; then, as one after another snowmobile took off around them, the rushing Doppler Effect filled her ears.

  She looked up into Jake's face, able for the first time to make out his physical appearance a little better than before. He had dark brown hair—almost black—and olive skin. It seemed as if his eyes were light green—much lighter than she would have expected with his overall dark looks. She couldn't be sure, but it was the best assessment she'd gotten of him, much better than in the motel room or even in the medical area hallway, thanks to the bright sunlight.

  "Moving out!" their tour guide called, pulling up beside them with a rumble. "Make sure you've got your helmets and gloves on. It's gonna be a cold ride to Old Faithful." With a spray of snow, the guide gunned it a little farther past them, almost as if he meant to give them a moment of privacy. She'd gladly take it if it meant she could get a few answers out of Jake before they began their journey.

  "Old Faithful?" She reached out a hand to touch Jake's face, feeling the rugged contours of jaw and skin. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish inside the park? I thought you needed help with your 'future problem.' I don't see how snowmobiling and park rangers fit into that scenario. Oh, that's right, I forgot." She slapped the
heel of her hand against her head. "We're going to the mitres."

  "Come on, folks," their guide said, trudging past them. "Suit on up."

  Jake left her standing there, waiting, and she got the idea that he was inspecting their sled.

  "You ever been on a snowmobile, Hope?" He thrust a helmet toward her, and it bumped into her belly. She took hold of it awkwardly, feeling the shape of it, prodding the padding that lined its interior.

  "I like to be in the driver's seat." She turned the helmet within her hands, finding the strap, and carefully placed it atop her head. "But by the time I was ready to try snowmobiling, my vision wasn't good enough."

  Jake laughed, low and knowingly. "That's what I thought." He adjusted her helmet, fastening the strap beneath her chin. It was an oddly protective gesture, and it occurred to her that this man had spent a long time trying to care for her. Just as Scott had promised to do, she thought, and felt a spasm of guilt. Not just guilt, but loneliness: as if she'd never see him again.

  "If you know me so well, why'd you have to ask if I've ever been on a snowmobile before? Huh?" Scott would have known; he'd have memorized everything about her and her experiences.

  "I can't remember what you'd done this far back. It's a lot to keep up with." He gave her visor a sharp tug, lowering it over her face. "Keep this down unless you want your nose and face to freeze off. That wind whips pretty hard, and we're going to be covering a lot of ground."

  "What? You didn't rent me my own sled?" she teased, watching him climb onto the tandem seat.

  Jake snorted. "You've always had a black sense of humor, love."

  She studied him as he pulled his own helmet onto his head, and tried to figure out what he even really looked like. Handsome, she would bet, and overly large; that much had been obvious since the beginning. What she really wished was that she could look into his eyes—those green eyes she'd glimpsed—and see what his intentions truly were. She climbed cautiously behind him, planting both feet on the running boards.

  Ahead of them, their tour guide powered up his sled, and then Jake did likewise, the machine sending vibrations through her body. "Hold on to me!" he shouted over the engine. "This thing's going to really move."

  She wrapped her arms about his waist, burrowing her face against his back. "What are you doing, Jake? And how do I figure in?"

  But he never heard her, not over the noisy motor, and with a lurch they took off over the snowy road.

  At the exterior of his council chambers, Jared leaned close for an iris imprint, then a further sensory sweep, including a retinal scan. Once his identity had been verified, the sleek doors to chambers slid open and he stepped into the much darker interior room. The lighting inside the council room was always kept low and dim; that way it was easier to view the elders' silvery holographic images being transmitted all the way from Refaria. As usual on days when he had to deal with his council, Jared felt edgy and uptight. Watching the bio-techs prep the data portal—a large dais that he personally believed was the elders' way of forcing him onto something resembling a throne—he mentally scrolled through the meeting's agenda.

  One topic he was absolutely certain would be on today's schedule, after only a few weeks since his formal sealing and marriage to Kelsey, was the matter of the succession. Frankly, he'd often wondered if the elders had too little to occupy them while he was in exile: They seemed unduly fixated on traditions and maneuvering within the council. It was enough to make Jared thankful that they were back on Refaria, and he was here on Earth; he had far fewer dealings with them this way.

  The lead biotech signaled that Jared could assume position in the data portal, and he dropped into the large, throne-like chair. Thus began another sensory scan of his vitals, more detailed than the first one which had been required to gain entrance to chambers. After his readings were taken, there was an ambient hum as the data was uploaded into the portal, thereby giving him clearance for an open link with the council.

  One by one, each council member took their place in the semicircle about him, placing one fist over their hearts and giving a bow of respect. Their images were uneven, faltering, but it was still pretty damn good, considering the massive distance that separated them from one another. Refarian technology allowed them to access energy packets flowing much faster than the speed of light, so that he and the elders were able to interact in these chambers in real time, even though separated by many, many light-years and many galaxies as well.

  Today Elder Graeon took the lead, his long silver hair drawn into a neat ponytail down his back. Graeon had been in his maturity for as long as Jared could remember, all the way back to Jared's boyhood, yet the man still looked fairly young. It was typical for Refarian males to reach maturity—that time when they were no longer fertile—in their early forties. All except the royal lines, who entered both their prime and their decided lack of it far too early. Jared was pushing the envelope at thirty years of age, and the absence of a successor was always the hot topic in these chambers.

  The circle gathered about him wanted only one thing: not leadership or wisdom, but quite simply, an heir. Sometimes, on days like this one, it left Jared feeling not just inadequate, but quite like a figurehead—whatever it meant to be a deposed and exiled figurehead, at that.

  Graeon kept one fist over his heart. "My lord, how is our new queen? Does she fair well in the midst of our rebellion?"

  Jared stretched his legs, instantly restless in the metal data portal—and instantly angry. If they were leading with the queen, the next question would surely be.…

  "And how go the mating rites, as well, my lord?" Graeon continued brightly. "Time is of the essence, all the more because you have chosen a human mate. Your bio readings show an elevated body temperature; other elements of your vital scans indicate that you may, in fact, be cycling. We shall assume the king is already aware of his heated state?" Graeon's voice practically vibrated with motivation and commitment to what would surely follow. By the gods, Jared would've thought Graeon hoped to bed Kelsey himself in the coming hours and days, he quivered so with anticipation. "You are aware of how fertile your cycle is right now, my lord?" the man prompted again, clapping his hands together purposefully. How dare he not even have the decency to blush.

  Jared laughed, reaching a low and threatening note as he leaned forward in his chair. "Oh, yes, you may assume that I am quite aware of my mating season. It's fairly difficult to miss when the royal pulse becomes a-flush and aflutter, would you not agree?" He met Graeon's gaze and held it hard until the elder averted his eyes.

  Leaning one elbow on the arm of the portal, Jared studied the semicircle of leaders. "Shall I tell you how many times I've bedded my new wife?" he asked in a whiskey-voiced tone of confidence. "How many ways I've taken your lady and queen? How I've rutted about our quarters? Surely this is the very information you seek today, is it not, Elder Graeon? Detailed reportage of my sexual prowess and how very successful the queen and I have found ourselves upon entering the heat."

  Graeon bowed his head, giving it a slight shake, but before he could reply, Jared continued. "We have had this conversation on multiple occasions. Now that I have married and taken a mate, I can no longer abide such intimate analysis of my fertility, my sex life, my body temperature and pulse rate, or the silver hairs upon my head. If you feel compelled to discuss the likelihood of our siring heirs"—Jared waved about the circle—"then let it not be in this room, in our presence."

  He was about to rail that, furthermore, when and how—and just how many times—he and Kelsey tried to conceive a child was none of their business—when much to his surprise the chamber doors slid open. The momentary influx of bright light made it nearly impossible to see the elders, essentially washing them out until the doors drew shut again. When he saw that it was Kelsey stepping into chambers, he wanted to throw his hands into the air from relief. She had attended several of these sessions over the past weeks, and the elders were already warming up to her tremendously. She had a
lso freely chastised him whenever he'd referred to the council room as "the torture chamber." A good queen, through and through.

  "I didn't know you'd be joining us today," he said as the biotechs helped her up into the portal beside him. He reached a hand across the small distance that separated them, and as their skin made contact, he felt a flush sweep over his entire body.

  Damn it all, don't let the elders sense the change in my biometrics. They're likely to ask us to procreate right here in chambers so they can personally monitor my fertility levels.

  Kelsey smiled, her gaze lingering on him for a split second longer than she might normally have done. Something about the way her eyes sparkled, the wonderful glow about her face, made him wonder if she was up to something. Then again, maybe it was just as she'd said: that she, too, was achieving the heat right along with him. They'd made such frantic love earlier in the morning, he'd been afraid that Sabrina had heard them from where she was working in the bunker across the hall. If his protector had, she hadn't let on. When he'd passed her later in the hallway, she'd simply given a brisk nod, returning to her task with dutiful focus.

  Jared hid a smirk as it became evident that Kelsey's unplanned presence had ruffled Graeon's composure. The councilors believed everything should be done in order, by a schedule, per tradition; Kelsey, on the other hand, was like a rushing desert wind, upending everything in their elders', and his own, world.

  "My lady, well and good wishes," Graeon greeted her, bowing, and there were other stiff murmurs of welcome.

  "Don't let me interrupt." She smiled at each of them, a slow and determined process. "Please, I know you have many important matters to discuss—and I'm sure that Jared will be giving you the latest report on his fertility."

  It was all he could do to suppress a wild burst of laughter. Damn it all, but his beautiful love even managed to be cunning while maintaining a perfectly angelic smile on her face.