Parallel Attraction Read online

  Silence, you idiot! he told himself. You are a fool, moronic king, and you never last at love, so why offer your wretched advice now?

  She stirred on the bed behind him, edging closer. He raised one hand over his shoulder to halt her progress. "Please," he begged.

  "I'm lost here, Jared."

  Well, he thought, that makes two of us. He buried his face in his hands and prayed to All that she'd understand him, and that his genetic differences wouldn't send her shrieking from the bedroom. He reviled the part of himself he was about to unveil to her. It was the one thing about being D'Aravnian that he'd always loathed. He loved his Change—it was peaceful and blissful and sated every craving in the entirety of his nature.

  But this—this that he had to tell her—he despised in himself.

  And yet she had to know. It was only fair that he tell her everything. She would learn it inside their bond soon enough.

  "I have cycles," he blurted, then lunged to his feet and bolted as far from her as he could possibly get, all the way to the distant side of the room. Keeping his back to her, he stood there like a cornered animal. How appropriate, he thought with a pained laugh. He heard her bare feet, quiet on his hardwood floor as she edged closer to him. Of course she wouldn't let it go, but would pursue him all over the damnable compound until she squeezed out every ounce of truth about his sexual makeup.

  When she'd almost reached him, he moved again—to the fireplace where he braced his hands on the mantel. He wished he weren't naked; he felt totally exposed, vulnerable.

  One warm human hand settled on his back—over his terrible scar, of all places. He flinched, but she didn't move, saying, "You saw everything in me, remember? It's only fair that I know whatever this is about you." Her soft, melodious voice was like a balm to all his lifelong wounds. He'd always been exotic, no matter where he went, always different—a warrior, a king, a killer, a changeling—when all he'd secretly wanted, for so many years, was to be normal and loved. To be common, of all things. To be a simple man, a writer or a builder, perhaps.

  But this one touch from an alien woman had him shaking from the crown of his head to the very tips of his toes. "Cycles," he repeated unsteadily. "My kind experience them." Still he refused to face her. The shame was too overwhelming. Gazing into the fireplace, he wrestled to find words, but none seemed to offer themselves.

  At last, it was Kelsey who spoke. "What kind of cycles?" she asked in a soft voice, reaching a hand to stroke his hair. Black hair turning silver, hair that proved what he was about to tell her. "Jared?" Kelsey prompted when he did not answer. "What kind of cycles?"

  He took a deep, stilling breath and turned to face his mate. "Refarian mating cycles," he answered in as even a voice as he could muster.

  "But what does that even mean?" she asked. "And don't tell me you don't know, because it obviously means something, Jared."

  He glanced down at her, standing there just beside him, and slipped one large palm around her waist. "Come closer." She leaned against him, her face open and waiting. In the past few nights he had yearned to cycle with her. For the first time in his life, he had opened—ever so slightly—to the idea. Bowing his head, he whispered the truth, a barely audible sound. "Mating urges," he told her.

  She pressed closer, slipping one arm around his neck to draw him closer toward her. "What?"

  It took everything inside his brave warrior's heart to meet his love's gaze, but he did so, and their eyes locked in the half darkness. She'd heard him—she simply hadn't understood.

  "My line experiences mating cycles. Body heat, urges," he answered, forcing a clinical tone. "It is the way with my kind. Mating fever, blood fever. It has many names. All mean the same: We rut like animals." He spit the words, unable to mask his horrible self-derision. She frowned, her auburn eyebrows hitching together into a tense line of concentration. Even now, he could see the scientist in her making calculations, attempting to comprehend. Finally, she nodded, crimson blush creeping upward from her own neck into her fair face.

  "Well, Jared," she said, licking her lips thoughtfully, "that's certainly an interesting detail to your species."

  "Shameful," he snarled.

  She slipped both of her arms around his neck, nuzzling closer against him. Instantly he felt more secure with the woman; he felt loved. She laughed softly. "You obviously don't need mating cycles." She glanced meaningfully toward his bed. "I mean, honestly, Jared!" She lifted a gentle hand to cup his face. "You're on fire when it comes to, well, that."

  "I appreciate the vote of confidence." He coughed, still feeling an outrageous amount of embarrassment, but somehow breathing easier all the same.

  "How often?" she asked, cocking her head sideways.

  "I've no idea, actually," he answered honestly, blowing out a heavy breath. "To date, I have never experienced one. Which is"—he paused, wondering how to frame it to her—"well, more than a bit concerning. It is the only way in which I might sire children. The only time I'm fertile, Kelsey." Here it was—the next revelation, the one she might find unpardonable.

  "Oh," she said, a soft, swooshing sound of realization. "Oh, that's ... not good."

  "Not good," he agreed. "And it doesn't take a scientist to realize that, does it?"

  "Maybe you have to be mated—"

  He cut her off. "You don't."

  She tried again, her eyebrows lifting hopefully. "Or of a certain age—"

  "I passed it long ago."

  "Or maybe it takes, I don't know, practice," she tried, her voice rising in frustration.

  "Thea has been through at least seven cycles already, and she's four years younger than me."

  "Oh, crap," she said, her shoulders sagging a bit.

  He drew a deep breath. 'There's more," he cautioned, praying in his heart that the next revelation would not crush her—or send her fleeing from him.

  "Okay." She nodded, swallowing visibly. "Go on."

  He lifted a hand and stroked the length of her curling cascade of auburn hair. So beautiful—more beautiful than he deserved in a lifemate. "I am at my peak of fertility right now. That is, if I were to actually cycle, the chance of conception is at its highest point," he answered solemnly. "But very soon I will pass into maturity."

  "Maturity?"

  He coughed again, avoiding her gaze. "It's a euphemism among my people. It means I will grow infertile," he explained, reaching a hand to his own hair. "This silver that you see? It is a first indication of my maturing."

  "Maturing," she repeated, running her fingertips over his short, bristling hairs. As if she needed to inspect the evidence to truly believe him.

  "It happens quickly for the male of my species." He swallowed hard and added, "Usually."

  "So you enter this maturity, your hair turns silver and you ... can't reproduce any longer?" she asked nervously.

  "You have the gist of it." He wanted to pretend that his voice hadn't sounded nearly as mournful as it had. But she'd noticed—of course she had; her intelligent eyes were alight with questions.

  "It can't possibly be that simple," she said, but after he'd stared at her for one intense moment, she frowned, whispering, "Can it?"

  "You never ate your chocolates." He reached around her for the unopened golden box where it rested on the mantel. "Perhaps now would be a good time?"

  "I don't want chocolate." She scowled at him. "I want the truth."

  His hand tightened about her waist—anything to hold her here with him, to keep her from fleeing. Finally, in a low voice, he gave her the truth she sought. "I am on borrowed time," he said, tugging at his short hair by way of explanation. "Do you see now? For my kind, this is not a small thing."

  "You're only thirty!" she exclaimed, her eyes ringed white with what seemed both shock and something else he couldn't place. Horror? Frustration?

  He dropped his voice to a calming timbre. "This disturbs you."

  "You're young, Jared." She shook her head adamantly. "You're very young. Not an old man. And wh
at does it mean, 'grow infertile'? This doesn't make any sense. You're a guy! They stay fertile until they die."

  "Men of my species experience the change," he answered. "Not the women. And men of my line experience it very prematurely. Very. It will come upon me soon; I feel sure of it. Months, perhaps. Not years. We're a hot-blooded, strange lot, the D'Aravni. Some say ours is a pure bloodline, closer to the true Refarian nature than most Refarians now."

  He sighed, hating the unfairness of it. He'd never bothered with the idea of heirs or children, had never wanted them until now, with her. Now, he finally understood—he had been waiting for her. His heart had belonged to her, even if his memories had not. His sweet, precious Kelsey; he ached to give her a child that would somehow weave their two utterly disparate genes together in the form of one beautiful baby. Maybe her auburn hair and clear eyes with his darker skin? Or her fair skin and his black hair and dark eyes? Any child of theirs would be perfectly beautiful—and perfectly loved.

  In a very quiet voice, staring at the floor, she asked, "Can you still have sex? After this change? Because if not, you can tell me that—"

  "Gods, yes!" he roared, laughing in release. "Much vigorous and pleasing sex, I am told—no concerns about that. In fact, some say . . . well, that the desire increases afterward, and the joinings become far more . . . passionate."

  She teased him with her eyes, but he didn't miss how her face had turned a lovely pink color. "That doesn't sound half-bad."

  He gave her a shy grin. "Maybe it's some sort of gift from the gods to compensate for the loss of . . . well, the other."

  Her gaze darted about the room as she thought about what he'd told her. "But they could bank your sperm," she reflected clinically, the scientist in her coming to the fore. "I mean, couldn't they? They can do that with human men—easily."

  "Yes, they can, ah, bank my sperm," he agreed, smiling at her directness even in the midst of such a painful discussion. "But it wouldn't remain viable for very long."

  "That makes no sense whatsoever," she exclaimed. "With your technology—"

  "It's because I'm D'Aravni."

  "Explain what you mean."

  "The fire can be passed only by natural conception." He hoped she could understand something that even among his own line had always been considered mystical. "My other self—the energized one you first met—the only way we pass that along is by the act itself. And that is the part of me that is Arganate D'Aravni. It is the part of me that requires an heir."

  "Jared," she said, her blue eyes focused, "we have no idea if I could even carry a child like that. I'm human. And you're ..."

  "Of an alien species," he finished, his heart swelling with the possibilities, both of joy and of crushing heartbreak. For a moment, holding her about the waist, he noticed the golden-hued darkness of his skin juxtaposed against the alabaster beauty of her own. There were dark men like himself on her planet—much darker ones even—and fair-skinned ones on his own, but holding Kelsey this close, he noted that even her scent was exotic. Dark to light they stood, as different as any two creatures could be, yet every cell within his Refarian body yearned to cycle with the woman, to give her babies and an unbounded future, just as any normal human man might.

  Glancing downward, he realized that he'd placed a protective hand over her belly—an unconscious gesture of both promise and faith. "My heart believes it's possible, Kelsey. Maybe it's illogical, but I have to believe you could carry our child."

  "But what if I can't?" she said in a soft voice. "How will you produce an heir?"

  He wrapped his arms about her, drawing her flush against his chest. "I never worried about it before I met you. The council constantly urged me to mate with—" He caught himself, halting. "Well, to mate. To produce an heir to the throne."

  She leaned her cheek against his shoulder, sighing. "With Thea," she supplied.

  "Yes, with my cousin," he agreed. "Because of her bloodline."

  "They won't be pleased about this." She drew in a nervous breath. "Your joining with me." She pulled back to look him in the eye. "They won't be happy about this at all."

  "But it is my decision," he said firmly. "I am the king, and while they advise me, they don't control me." He swore he saw relief wash over her features. "Besides, I have a theory as to how our memories were erased, and if my suspicion is correct, it will make winning over the council all the easier."

  "But now that you've mated, producing an heir has to be important to you." Her voice had become plaintive, and he swore she trembled against him. "I mean, why would you have mated with me, Jared, when it almost guarantees the end of your line?"

  He shook his head emphatically. "The line would have ended even if I'd not joined with you," he said. "I would never have mated with Thea."

  "But it is important to you now, though?" she pressed. "Right?" He glimpsed hopefulness in her eyes—the hope that perhaps now, with her, he would finally yearn for a child. Clearly she still did not understand their predicament, but he would make sure that she did.

  "Kelsey," he whispered fiercely, "all the odds are stacked against us, love. Don't you see that? You are human; I am Refarian. I have never once cycled in all my years, which means it is hardly probable now. It is unlikely that we will ever conceive—that is what I am telling you. Do you understand? I will probably never give you a child. It is unforgivable that I didn't tell you this before now. You should have known last night, before you lifebonded yourself to me. If you regret the decision, then I shall seek the council's permission to—"

  "Stop it," she cried, and jerked out of his arms. Beautifully naked, like pure porcelain grace, she moved all about the room. Agitated, but gorgeous, she rounded on him. "Jared Bennett!" she almost shouted. "Stop it! We are not parting ways here. I want you. I took you. I accepted our bonding willingly last night!"

  Then silence. She stood, before him, her chest heaving, her full, supple breasts rising and falling with every labored breath.

  "What, precisely, are you saying?" Jared asked after what seemed forever.

  She flung her hands before her, spreading the fingers wide in an exasperated gesture. "I'm saying to shut up!"

  "And you understand?" he asked, unwilling to relent. "Everything?" His nonexistent cycles, the terrible odds— could she really grasp it all?

  She stepped close, placing one soft hand on his shoulder. "I understand that whatever it takes, we're going to make sure you have one of these cycles."

  How did she intend to trigger that which had never come upon him? He loved her for her faith, he blessed her for her determination, but he grieved the unlikelihood of it all. Still, he found himself whispering, "How?"

  "By tempting and coaxing and seducing you into it, Jared," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. "That's how. We will make this happen—together."

  "Together," he repeated in a murmur, searching her face in an effort to find some measure of faith there for himself. He wanted to believe, and that alone had to mean something.

  "I love you, Jared," she insisted, fire flashing in the depths of her blue eyes, almost turning them golden green. "And nothing will ever change that. Because I love you, I'll do whatever it takes. And I mean whatever it takes."

  Strange, but he felt a slight thrill chase up his spine at her words, as if she'd just thrown down a sexual gauntlet of sorts. Or maybe what he heard was the first whispered call of something ancient as it stirred in his loins: the very first, distant murmurings of a blood fever, awakened from slumber at long last.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Everything in Jared's life revolved around logistics, he thought with an irritable grumble. He couldn't perform so much as a bodily function without ten people expressing their opinions on the matter, so why should his mating with Kelsey be any different? She had, of course, been right; the council wouldn't be pleased about his choice of a human for his wife and mate. Whenever he was called to chambers, they inevitably brought up the issue of his succession, which made it
difficult to imagine the elders embracing Kelsey Wells, their first queen in more than twenty years, and the first non-Refarian queen in hundreds more. And perhaps it was that thought that caused his champagne headache to swell behind his eyes anew.

  Oh, yes, the council meeting would make his head ache for certain. It would be arduous and long and exhausting, but in the end he would force their hand, and they would accept Kelsey as his chosen one. In fact, they would even perform the union ceremony—today, if he had his way with things. While a formal ceremony wasn't required by royal tradition, he knew it was important to Kelsey, and more than that, he wanted the elders' official seal on their union. Besides, it didn't make sense to have a protracted bonding period. They'd completed their joining, and in the compound's tight quarters the rumors would soon begin to fly if he didn't solidify Kelsey's place in front of the council as soon as possible.

  Which brought him to his other significant hurdle—and one he dreaded even more than the council—Thea. They'd passed each other briefly during breakfast this morning, and she'd averted her eyes, feigning great interest in her bowl of cereal. She'd left soon thereafter, hurrying off to her research down here at the guesthouse. She'd been reviewing a set of maps and journals sent to them on the latest transport from back home. They'd belonged to the earliest Refarian explorers sent to Earth, those pioneer teams who had come to Earth centuries earlier and mapped the rugged terrain until they had located the ideal hiding place for the mitres.

  Jared pushed against the wooden front door to the guesthouse; warped long ago by the elements, it required an extra shove with his shoulder just to get the thing open. Ducking his head so he wouldn't smack it on the low doorframe, he entered and found Thea standing in front of a table with both her hands spread wide. She squinted at the antiquated notations, never so much as acknowledging his entrance.