Parallel Attraction Read online

  "Are we going inside?" she asked, curious about his life here even as she felt a tiny constriction of fear.

  He nodded. "In a minute. This is my home, you must realize," he said. "It is strange, having you here. I wanted it, but still...."

  "Why strange?" She wanted her presence to feel natural to him, to feel right.

  "You are innocent of many things, Kelsey." He gave her a pensive smile. "I am wrong to draw you into my world. I have been selfish in this."

  "I chose to be here," she reminded him. "You didn't make that choice for me. Well, apart from the pretend kidnapping and abduction. But you hardly bound me against my will. I've agreed to all of this, starting the other night."

  "But I drew you into our conflict," he argued, the sadness she'd glimpsed in his eyes morphing into something darker and unreadable. "I apologize for that. And also because some may not appreciate your presence here. Nor my bringing you into our camp." He looked into her eyes. "Just know that going in."

  "I see," she answered in a cool voice.

  "Only because they wish to protect me." He cupped her cheek within his large, calloused hand. "Some of my people would have me sit apart from our struggle, alone and out of danger, while they take all the risks," he explained, dropping his hand back to his lap. "But I'm not comfortable with that."

  "No, I can't imagine that you would be." She smiled, and this time she was the one to reach out a hand to touch his cheek. His face was beautiful, sculpted and formed like a classical piece of art. She thought of Minoan sculptures, or Greek perhaps. He possessed a hewn warrior's visage, tough but surprisingly graceful as well: strong, high cheekbones accented by the long, noble nose; the copper-colored skin; slight scarring along his left cheek and his forehead, which only made his features seem more angular. But then those soft, full lips. Those lush black eyes with the long feathered lashes. The combination of rough leather and velvet softness in this one man's features made for an unabashedly sexual blending.

  She noticed a small pendant stone, black and shiny like onyx, on a thin leather cord at the base of his throat. Despite his turtleneck, he'd made a point of displaying it. "What's this?" She reached to touch it before he could caution her, but quickly withdrew her hand. "It burned me," she exclaimed, laughing in surprise. "Your pendant almost burned my hand!"

  "It does that if you're not careful," he agreed with a smile. "That is, unless you're the wearer of it."

  "No, now see, I'm a geologist," she said, incredulous. "Stones don't burn people. Not like this, not when they're worn as jewelry."

  "You're obviously not a geologist on my planet." He laughed, stroking the black, gleaming stone between his fingertips. "This was a gift from my people. It was once set in my father's"—he hesitated, seeming to catch himself, then continued—"in my father's vaults long ago. Before the war. When we arrived here, on your planet, those I command gave it to me as a gift. They had brought it all that way because they wanted to remind me of what I fought for."

  "And if I were to touch it again, would it still burn me?" she asked, working to mask her curiosity.

  "It's called a strake stone," he told her. "Very rare, even on our planet." Reaching behind his neck, he unfastened the leather cord that held it in place. "Here," he said, "you may wear it. For now." With a gentle motion, he brushed her hair off of her nape, gathering it across her shoulder. She was aware of his warm breath fanning against her cheek, then her neck, as he bent to fasten it. He had an earthy scent too, ironically enough, one that she hadn't noticed back at her apartment. "There," he said when he was finished. He gave a satisfied sound of approval as he studied her. "Yes, you wear my stone well."

  Staring down at the gleaming rock, she dared to touch it. This time, though it was warm, it did not burn. "Your people obviously love you."

  He nodded. "I am nearly all that remains of the old ways," he said. "A difficult fact for some."

  "You're right." She laughed. "Your people aren't going to like me very much." He reached for her hand, their fingers threading together. She loved the rough feel of his hands against her own; loved how warm they were. The man absolutely radiated heat—that much she'd realized from the beginning; perhaps his stone pendant took its cue from him. "But they must respect you," he said, setting his strong jaw. "I will require it. Demand it, if need be."

  The dark determination in his face led her to an odd thought: He seemed to be speaking about far more than her visit to his home tonight. Or even about his people's general reaction to her—he was already forming a place for her within his world. And she could've sworn she'd always heard him promising that his people would treat her with respect, not just now or tonight.

  Jareshk, The name whispered in the hidden places of her mind like the faint tinkling of a distant wind chime. Jareshk….

  "Here," he said, reaching for the pendant. "Best that you keep this hidden for now." He tucked the necklace down inside of her sweater, and as his fingertips grazed her breastbone, their eyes met. This time he reacted like one burned, quickly withdrawing his hand.

  She shivered, turning away from him toward the structure before them. With four stories and perhaps five thousand square feet, it was the ultimate dream cabin, the kind she'd always secretly wished her father would purchase so she could hide away with her research or a book. Only this was no vacation home: seemingly hewn from the mountainside itself, its four levels ran down the side of the jagged peak, facing the valley below as though standing at attention. The covered porches that ran along the front and sides, as well as the large windows, might belong to any rich man's mountain getaway; but the tall observation towers that jutted up like turrets suggested a quite different, defensive, purpose. And yet for all that, she felt instantly—

  "You like it," Jared said, catching something in her expression that she knew she couldn't hide from him even if she tried.

  "It looks like a home," she whispered. Her father had moved them to D.C. when she was sixteen, immediately after her mother's death. It had been a lonely time, a time when she'd ached for the land of her Wyoming childhood. And she'd never quite found home again.

  He nodded but said nothing more. They fell quiet, studying the structure, wrapped in their own thoughts. How could she feel sorry for herself when Jared had traveled so far from his own world?

  "What is your race?" she asked, remembering her many unanswered questions. "Where are you from? At least tell me that before we go inside."

  "I am Refarian." He whispered the words like a prayer, his pride in his heritage obvious.

  "Where is that?" Planting both hands on the dashboard, Kelsey leaned forward in her seat so that she could see the sky overhead; she wanted to imagine that she could glimpse his planet with her naked eyes. Or maybe she was just trying to reassure herself that she really was on Earth, the only planet she had ever known.

  "Quite far from here." He draped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close until their heads inclined together, both of them staring through the windshield up at the sky. "How I wish I could show you. The scientist in you would find my home very beautiful and wondrous. There are many things there that you do not have here on Earth."

  For a moment the whole situation seemed ludicrous—until he turned his black eyes on her and she glimpsed a strange shimmer of energy within their depths. And she also noticed that, in some imperceptible way, Jared did not appear human.

  "God, you're beautiful." She sighed appreciatively. This he seemed to like very much. His serious expression softened, the full mouth parting with a husky, masculine laugh. Or was it almost a soft growl of pleasure?

  He stroked his chin with a thoughtful expression, his fingertips lingering on the black stubble of beard that had appeared there in the past few hours. "We like that you find our natural appearance pleasing. Yes, we like this very much."

  We? What was with the "we" thing? But before she could tease him—or even ask—he seemed to grow quite self-conscious, fiddling with the button on his buckskin jacket and av
oiding her eyes.

  "Did I say something wrong?" she asked, confused, but he refused to meet her gaze. Maybe it was a cultural difference, some misstep she hadn't intended. "Jared?" she pressed.

  "I show myself to very few," he finally explained in a low voice, still refusing to look at her. "Perhaps no humans ever."

  "Perhaps?" She leaned closer, feeling outrageously proprietary. "Yes or no, Jared?"

  "No humans." He released a low rumble of what she interpreted as pleasure. "Never shown myself to a human until you."

  She understood that by these words he meant all that she'd seen on the lakeshore, both of his selves. It was somehow an intensely personal experience, one that she felt certain he couldn't translate for her. Slowly he dared to lift his eyes until they met hers in the darkness. "Kelsey Wells was the first to truly see me." With that he cut off the engine, and suddenly the silence around them seemed deafening.

  "Knowing that," she whispered, surprised to feel tears stinging her eyes, "only makes you all the more beautiful to me."

  "Commander," Thea announced tightly, stepping into Jared's path as he entered the cabin—and avoiding even the slightest glance in Kelsey's direction. "May I have a word?"

  "In the morning," he said, moving past her. His cousin, along with the tirade he fully expected from her, would have to wait. At the moment, the idiot king had but one objective in mind: bringing Kelsey into camp and introducing her; then, perhaps, taking her down to his quarters for a nightcap—that is, unless he could shake some sense into his bond-impaired mind. He had hoped the human's hold on him might lessen with proximity, but it seemed that every passing moment together only intensified their connection. He'd even bestowed her with his family's strake stone, and without so much as placing a time limit on the gesture. Any ordinary woman might interpret that kind of gift as a mating pledge. And he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't meant it as such.

  As they passed into the main entry of the cabin, Thea persisted, flanking him. "Jared, please," she urged. Kelsey remained close on his other side, following his lead. Others lined the entry hall and made bows of respect, inclining their heads. He returned the gesture, but perhaps with even less gusto than he normally would, because their shows of respect embarrassed him with Kelsey present.

  Thea wasn't going to back down. "Commander," she pressed, "it is urgent that we speak tonight."

  He rounded on her, unable to prevent the quiet growl of protest that sprang from within him. "We have a guest," he reminded her, speaking very precisely.

  She answered rapidly in their native tongue, an idiomatic Refarian laced with complaint about Kelsey's presence, arguing that he had placed himself—and all of them—in unwarranted jeopardy.

  And he shot back in Refarian, employing simple, plain words. "I am leader," he said, bending low so he could stare meaningfully into his adviser's eyes. Thea blinked back at him, visibly trying to calculate the risks he'd brought upon himself. Softening his voice, he added, still in their shared tongue, "Trust the human, cousin. Trust me."

  "I trust you completely," she said, "except in intimate matters of your heart."

  "Cousin," he said firmly, "your leader's heart is his own affair." Her eyes grew sad and weary, and he instantly regretted his harsh tone. But it wasn't entirely his blame to bear: He'd tried repeatedly to explain to Thea the way of things between them, the unshakeable conviction that he could not lifebond with her, not ever. Nor had he been able to verbalize how strongly he felt that another waited for her, a mate who would treasure her in the way only a lover could. She would be cherished and loved from head to toe, his sad-eyed cousin—but by another male.

  "The king's heart should be the affair of his people, Jareshkadau," she replied in Refarian. Then she turned to Kelsey, who towered over her, and extended a hand. "I am Thea Haven," she pronounced in precise English, her inflection tinged with an elitist tone hardwired into their bloodline. "I am cousin to the king."

  At no other time in their lives had Jared ever wished to thoroughly pound his cousin into the damnable ground. If there'd been one word he had hoped—prayed, in fact—that Kelsey would not hear while in camp, it had been that one: king. And of course Thea would have guessed as much; she knew all too well his aversion to pomp and titles and all their discomfiting traditions. She also knew that, deep down, his heart wanted nothing more than to be loved for itself, for its commonness—and not for the nobility of the blood that flowed through it.

  Jared flinched, waited, held his breath—did anything to gauge the human's reaction. But then sweet Kelsey—his blessed human—smiled regally and took Thea's strong, pale hand. "I'm Kelsey Wells," she answered without blinking. "I am honored to be here tonight as guest of your king. And I am honored to meet you as well."

  Bestowing Thea with a warm, genuine smile, Kelsey never once glanced his way. It almost seemed that protocol and its many requirements were not unfamiliar to her. The warrior felt himself breathe a bit easier, even though the man wondered desperately whether Thea would manage to frighten Kelsey away from him.

  For her part, Thea's reaction to Kelsey was interesting, to say the least. His loyal lieutenant was nothing if not rigorous in her testing of those who kept her king's company, and now a look of grudging respect came over her countenance. Clearly she'd meant to intimidate or shock the young human, but Kelsey had emerged from this trial—this first trial, Jared had no doubt—with grace.

  Placing his hand gently in the center of Kelsey's back, Jared guided her down the hallway. "Let me show you about the place."

  Unbidden, Thea followed them. "Jared," she persisted, "we still must speak. It is urgent."

  Her insistence surprised even him, and he wondered if it was something more—if she had a report for him, or if something beyond Kelsey's appearance here at the compound troubled Thea tonight. "I will meet you in the boardroom momentarily," he answered, striking a formal tone. "Once our guest is settled."

  "I would prefer to take the discussion to the exterior," she answered with a steely-eyed look. Inwardly he groaned; this had nothing to do with politics and everything to do with pressure both from the council and from Thea that they form a match.

  "Outside, then," he agreed, his hand never leaving Kelsey's back.

  Jared stood, both of his booted feet planted on Hooded Rock. This particular promontory offered a most spectacular view of the valley; unobstructed by pines or other trees, it opened onto a cold, windswept panorama, one that Jared treasured. He'd left Kelsey inside, sitting in the upstairs den by the fire. She'd looked weary, and he had knelt by her side, speaking gentle words of apology for the fact that he had to step out and talk to Thea. Even now, his fingers burned to touch her, and he yearned to kiss her on this very rock. The image felt real somehow—as if it had already happened—and he shivered, feeling as if Kelsey must be right behind him. But when he opened his eyes, he found Thea, not Kelsey, standing back on the trail.

  She took a step closer. "Jared." On her lips his name suddenly became a husky promise. Stepping up onto the rock, she faced him. "My lord, I needed time alone with you," she began, unfastening his jacket. Once it fell open, she slid her palms inside, easing them underneath his sweater.

  "Do not do that!" he snarled, turning from her. He was more than accustomed to Thea's temptations, but tonight he had little patience for her ploys. "Your king wishes to be alone," he announced, intentionally placing his title between them.

  "Oh, cousin." She laughed, her voice lilting and breathy as again she stepped closer. "There are many things you wish for, but you don't want to be alone. Not anymore. You haven't wished so for a long while. And it's become evident that I need to be bolder, now that the"—she hesitated, making a small sound of revulsion—"human is among us."

  "We wish to be alone!" he thundered, taking another step apart from Thea. "Leave us."

  "Well, we wish to be with you, sir," she countered, slipping her arms around his waist and holding tight from behind.

  Her physical touch
carried with it a slight burn. A strange, unfamiliar sensation in reaction to his cousin—almost a kind of magnetism. She slid one hand low onto his abdomen, stroking his stomach, which caused his groin to tighten in instant reaction. The sensations were all wrong—and not only because of Kelsey. Jerking apart from her, Jared growled his dismay.

  "What are you up to, Thea?" he barked with a low, protective rumble. "What game is this?" And why, with as much as he already cared for Kelsey, would Thea be arousing him at all? He had a bondmate—why would his cousin be stirring his blood, now, after so much time? Unless....

  Pressing a hand to his eyes, he groaned, shaking his head. He understood precisely what his cousin had done to him, the spell she'd attempted to work. It was manipulative, by the gods. She had to be desperate. Opening his mouth to reprimand her, he felt an answering thunder in his loins—which he realized was Thea pressing much closer behind him. With a roar, he spun upon her, and just as he had guessed, she stood before him, transformed to her most natural form—she, the only person on this planet other than he capable of such a transition. After all, she was the only other royal among the many Refarians hiding here on Earth.

  She purred at him, moving closer, all bright and glorious, radiating power and sensuality. Transmitting promises of love and seduction. It was as if she’d become naked in front of him, all golden and glowing and alluring.

  But it was more than her natural form, which alone shouldn't have possessed such a strong allure—beautiful as it was. No, was something she was doing to him. Then, as she brushed her golden body up against his, sidling close, he understood with perfect clarity: "You've brought the fever upon yourself," he replied in a hushed voice. "You're in your mating season."

  Yes, came her answer, shimmering across his skin. And you like it.

  "You're trying to trick me into mating!"

  Falling into their shared language, she spoke inside of him in a silky voice. It was the only way. I have to help you see that I am the one.