Parallel Attraction Page 8

  "We will never form a mating bond," he told her plainly. "Never, Thea."

  Her Refarian words flickered through his mind like a threat. Then the line will end with you.

  For a fleeting moment, the husky sound of his native language almost aroused him. Almost, but then again, not even remotely—he knew it was just the impact of her mating season, working some sort of spell on him. "I command you, Thea Haven, to make the change!" he cried. "Do not remain at this game." Damn it all, her erratic mating impulses were starting to cause his brain to fog up.

  Obeying—since, after all and despite the royal blood in her own veins, she remained his subject—she transformed back into the petite blond he was accustomed to seeing here on Earth.

  "I'm having you carted over to Base Ten until your cycle is over." He shook his head, seething. "And I'll think long and hard as to how we will recover from this embarrassment."

  She stared up at him, blue eyes welling with tears, and Jared's rage turned to pity.

  "You bound yourself to a stranger." She wiped at her eyes. "After so long, you gave yourself to an alien and a stranger." His heart protested, and he longed to explain that Kelsey already meant so much more to him than he could explain. "I thought it wasn't true," she went on, "that you would go for the data and then return, and then...." She released a quiet sob.

  "Even now, in the full flush of your season, you barely affect me, cousin," he replied, his voice becoming gentler. "How much less, were we to have mated?"

  Bowing her head, she replied, "But you have always affected me."

  Cupping her chin in his palm, he lifted her face until their eyes met. "Because I am your king," he answered without a trace of pride or sarcasm. "No?"

  "No," she answered, shaking her head. "Because you are like me. Which means I'm not alone when you are near."

  He closed his eyes, feeling compassion for his distant cousin—understanding the isolation that came with their exotic and dying bloodline. "There will be someone else who makes you feel that way. I have always foreseen that."

  "That's not true, Jared," she said, their families' golden aura enveloping her—even without the change. "You have always been the one for me. But now it seems you have made your choice, and you have chosen another."

  "You know why I formed the bond with her," he argued, even though he knew he was being dishonest, and that his intentions regarding the human were changing by the moment.

  "The purpose doesn't matter anymore," she answered flatly. "I don't see you backing down now. Do you?"

  He could not answer, not without wounding her heart and pride even more.

  "As I suspected," she said, tilting her chin upward with a resolute gesture. "But can she even produce an heir for you, Jared? I find that quite doubtful." She turned away. "And so, as I said, the line will die with you."

  "I do not know what will happen with the human," he said. "Time will reveal the answers, cousin." He put his back to her. After a moment he both sensed and heard Thea making her retreat. When he was certain he was alone, he slid to his knees and stared upward—homeward. Staring silently into the sky above, he wondered how the idea of a future with Kelsey had become such an inexorable fact. And how it seemed that, even as the warrior had promised to sever the bond with her, the man had clearly mapped his own destiny. He had chosen to truly claim Kelsey Wells as his mate.

  Chapter Six

  Searching out Kelsey, whom he'd left in front of the fire in the den, Jared climbed to the top floor of the cabin. He'd chosen to share one of the most intimate places in his whole compound with her; in fact, only his personal chambers were more important to him. The den was where he often strategized or meditated; he took no meetings there, but instead reserved it as a place of stillness. With its stacked stone fireplace and panoramic, windowed view of the surrounding mountains, it had seemed the right place—a pure one—to introduce Kelsey to his life here on the mountain.

  Thea's words to him had been true, as was his own inner admission: He no longer intended to break the bond he shared with Kelsey. No, the thing he wished was far more troubling: He hoped to solidify their connection. And thus he'd allowed the fantasies to begin, fantasies of leading her by the hand down to his chambers, where they would drink whiskey before a roaring fire and slowly fall together there in his room. He would gaze upon her, unhindered and slow. His fingers would find their way around every auburn curl, along every soft, rounded curve of her human body. He would woo and win her, binding his body to her own . . . until somewhere in the process, he would retrieve the data as he had originally intended. Then at last, with duty honored, he would make love to the human yet more.

  As long as they could keep the war at bay, far from these chambers, he would hold her here in his bed, loving her and mating with her. Fine plans indeed, he thought with an audible rumble of expectation as he arrived on the upper-floor landing. His heart leapt in his chest as he caught her scent from down the hallway.

  But upon entering the den, he discovered that his beguiling bondmate had collapsed into sleep, curled up on the sofa fully clothed. She'd obviously tried to wait for him, but had lost the battle. Humans required a great deal more sleep than Refarians. On average, he netted three to four hours a night, but he understood that her kind became irritable and impaired unless they slept for much longer periods than that.

  Dropping to his knees, he observed Kelsey as he had done earlier in her bedroom, this time with the luxury of a much less hurried inspection. He'd not been so near a human before, at least not for such a prolonged period of time. And so he studied her closely, noting the fine physical details that he'd previously missed: the delicate curving of her lips; the scattering of freckles all across her forehead and nose like stardust; the alabaster tone of her skin, so different from his own darker hue. He even held his hand to her cheek, thrilling at the contrast between their colorings. Damn it all, but he found it alluring that she was an alien, and that he had no idea of what precisely to expect in bed with her. That she smelled different from other women he'd been with. For a moment he recalled Thea—how her season had briefly magnetized him—and a new yearning birthed within him. He desired to cycle with Kelsey.

  That thought caused heat to rush from his cheeks and upward to the very crown of his head. Ever since he had come of age and learned that his line experienced mating cycles, he'd been ashamed—mortified that the agonizing taint, purged from all but the most royal of Refarian bloodlines, still haunted his line. He'd determined then and there never to succumb to a mating season, and had successfully managed to avoid that fate without incident. Yet as he watched Kelsey sleep, his blood raged hot at the thought of coupling with her during his season. The impulse felt so utterly right, in fact, that his hands began to tremble with the urge.

  Almost as if she knew his thoughts, Kelsey stirred, rolling away from where he knelt beside her, and he instantly felt ashamed. Animal instinct, that's what a mating season truly was. It was a barbaric need, one she'd never accept in him; how could she? He cursed whatever base impulse inside of him had brought it out even now. Still, as he watched her sleep, an eerie shadow of memory fell between them once again, as it had repeatedly done ever since that first night. This desire to cycle with her . . . it felt familiar, as if she were part of this ancient urge fanning to life inside of him.

  And then a fleeting image imprinted in his mind—her pale hand caressing his royal emblem. But he’d never shown a human his brand, and only a trusted few Refarians had ever seen it at all. Certainly no one had ever touched it. Yet, once again, a flashing image shot through his very spirit: of her graceful hand caressing his royal brand. Impossible! Such a thing could never have happened…could it?

  Perhaps it was just the after-effects of Thea's seduction attempt, he told himself uneasily, rising to his feet. Searching about the den, he found his favorite fleece blanket draped over one of the chairs and covered her with it, bending down to tuck each of the edges about her as he did.

  Turn
ing to leave, he glanced at her one more time before flicking off the lamp. The morning would bring truths, desperately needed truths, and he prayed that Kelsey Wells would forgive him when she learned of his deception.

  Kelsey woke to find sunlight filtering through a casement in the ceiling, clear morning sky visible overhead. A royal-blue fleece blanket covered her—one she didn't recall falling asleep beneath. Perhaps Jared or someone else had covered her in the night? She stretched, pointing her toes, and for a minute wondered if it had all been a bizarre dream. Alien compounds and warrior kings and middle-of-the-night secrets. She even returned to her recurring fears that Jared might be some kind of cult leader. She was contemplating that, along with the possibility that maybe the whole "warring species" idea was just a code phrase for some strange variety of terrorism, when a soft voice startled her.

  "You're awake, I see."

  Only then did Kelsey notice a dark-haired woman sitting by the fire, legs crossed. "He doesn't usually allow any of us here," the woman offered. "Well, perhaps I should clarify. Our lord would never forbid us to come. But we all know that this is his place."

  "But he let me in here," Kelsey said, planting both feet on the floor, curious as to who this striking-looking woman was.

  She gave Kelsey a brilliant smile. "Oh, I imagine he wanted you here, Kelsey Wells. That he wished to show you something of himself."

  The woman waved her closer. "Come," she urged. "Sit with me by the fire. I am Anika."

  Kelsey rose and, taking the blanket with her, approached the fire. "Are you Jared's cousin too?"

  "An adviser," she said. "He sent me here to watch over you until you woke."

  Kelsey bristled at such protectiveness. "I'm fine," she said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

  "Of course you are," Anika agreed with a firm nod. "But our commander knows our world here is unfamiliar to you. He wishes you to be comfortable." Another broad smile. Anika's appearance was odd, different from Jared's: She possessed the same dark hair and eyes, but her skin was much fairer. She almost had the look of a dark-eyed Viking: the same strong bones, large teeth.

  "It's all a bit"—Kelsey hesitated, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders as she settled by the fire—"overwhelming, actually."

  "Of course," the woman agreed. "Our lord himself is quite overwhelming."

  That was one way to describe the spell Jared had managed to cast over her in one week's time. She stared down at her lap, avoiding the alien woman's questioning gaze.

  "Very few humans are aware of this ongoing war," Anika conceded, "so no doubt this would be strange, I am sure." She looked at Kelsey. "As would engaging in a relationship under such terms."

  "A relationship?" Kelsey asked in surprise, meeting her gaze.

  Anika's open face brightened with amusement. "Isn't that what brings you to our camp?" she pressed. "A relationship with our commander?" She gestured toward Kelsey's throat. "And it seems you wear his strake stone. Already." Kelsey glanced down. The pendant had obviously worked its way free from beneath her sweater during sleep. She could offer no defense as to her reason for wearing it, but tucked it back beneath the turtleneck hastily.

  "He wanted me to see this place," she said, though she knew something far deeper had led her here with Jared. "That's all."

  "A place that he regards with the utmost level of security? A place where he has never once brought an outsider? Where only the highest ranking officers ever visit? Yes," Anika concluded with a firm nod, "this is highly unusual for our leader, and you must know it."

  For reasons Kelsey couldn't understand, she wanted to confide in Anika. "We only met once before," she admitted softly, trying to form logic out of such an illogical attraction. "At the lake."

  Anika gazed at her. "You believe in the possibility of true love," she observed after a searching moment. "I sense it. And you have waited for someone for a period of many years. And yet you question? It seems to me that your feelings were anticipated for some time, Kelsey Wells. Perhaps it was their fulfillment that has confounded you so much."

  Kelsey shivered, but said nothing. There was nothing she could say upon being analyzed in such a penetrating manner. After a moment of gauging Kelsey's reaction, Anika turned back toward the fire. "This morning, our commander meets with several key advisers," she said. "He hopes to see you in two hours."

  Feeling painfully self-conscious, Kelsey glanced down at her rumpled sweater and jeans. "I have nothing to wear."

  Anika laughed, a warm bubbling sound. "Ah, a familiar refrain the universe over," she said, regarding her with a sideways glance. "Perhaps I can help. We appear to be of approximately the same size."

  After searching for her inside the cabin, Jared had finally discovered Kelsey leaning against the wooden balcony railing, her chin propped in both hands. "And so it is morning," he said as he stepped out.

  "A beautiful morning at that," she agreed, turning to give him a reserved smile. She wore an ice-blue ski sweater that matched her eyes in brilliant vibrancy. This was obviously some of Anika's doing, as were the form-fitting Refarian uniform slacks. Bless Anika and her love for her king, he thought, forcing himself to gaze into Kelsey's vivid blue eyes and not at her curving hips.

  "Has your time here in my camp been pleasant so far?" He took a position beside her at the railing and gazed out at the valley below.

  "Pleasant?" Her smile broadened. "Wow, that seems awfully formal, don't you think?"

  "Formal? I did not mean it so." He sounded like a young boy, quivery and unsure of himself—as uncertain as he'd been the day of his coronation. Gods, how he wanted to say just the right thing with this human. It seemed suddenly to matter a very great deal.

  She shrugged. "Well, I guess for a king, you're not too terribly formal, not really."

  "I-I have some trouble with your language."

  "You're great with English," she disagreed. "That's not it. It's just you could have told me you're a king." Her tone was contemplative as she stared across the sun-dappled valley. "You could have trusted me."

  "It has nothing to do with trust. I usually save that information when I can," he admitted, clouds forming with every breath. "Not that I can very often, since most everyone in my life knows precisely who I am. And always has."

  She turned to him, and when she did he saw flecks of gold reflecting the sunlight in the depths of her blue eyes—something he hadn't noticed previously. Blue teased with green, mated with gold, taunted the king.

  "Why didn't you want me to know?" she asked, making a sweeping gesture with her hand. "You brought me here to show me your life."

  He sidled up to the railing, draping one arm over it, studying her. She had raised a crucial question, and the answer was simple—but he wasn't sure he wanted her to know just yet. "The element of surprise," he answered, locking his eyes with hers in challenge, "is key to any battle plan."

  She folded defiant arms across her chest "This is not a battle, and I'm not your enemy."

  Her denials brought out something playful and flirtatious within him. "Ah, so you say, my human."

  "Your human?" She laughed, giving her long curls a toss. "I am not your pet either, thank you."

  Cocking his head, Jared studied her, confused. "'My human'… this term conveys affection. Not ownership."

  "My," she replied. "In English, 'my' means ownership. Belonging."

  "You do not wish to belong to anyone," he observed. It was true, and from the beginning he had found her independence of spirit more than a little alluring. Yet a part of him also longed for her to understand—to acknowledge even—that they were bonded on the deepest level. "You wish to be alone in life, perhaps?" he pressed.

  "It's not that I wish...." She hesitated and he saw the faintest crimson invade her cheeks. Then she blurted, "It's that, well, I—"

  He lifted fingertips to her lips, silencing her awkward attempts at a reply.

  "Your heart longs for much, Kelsey Wells," he interpreted, tracing the outline o
f her soft, delicate mouth. "But you are strong and self-reliant. I like this in you. Very much. I admire it as well."

  She met his gaze, her eyes watering unexpectedly. "It's gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past."

  "You have not loved strong men," he observed. "Who could handle this trait in a woman."

  "I loved a man once." She turned from him. "Or I thought I did. And he wanted to have me all to himself, wanted me to sacrifice the things that were important to me. I think he truly did want to own me, in a way."

  "Humans own others?" This revelation he found confusing, as he did not believe such was common among her kind here in the western part of this planet, at least not at this point in its history. "A man may own a woman?"

  "He wanted a relationship with me, but only on his terms," she clarified, laughing softly. "And I was willing... for a while. Until he hurt me."

  He felt an irrepressible flash of fury: That any man might have hurt his bondmate awakened the warrior in him. His hands clenched at his sides, his full body tensed, and it was all he could do to suppress an audible growl of protection. But he managed, forcing himself to grow calm again before answering.

  "My human," he said, intentionally invoking the warm term again, "this is an endearment. It conveys strong affection. Tenderness, if you will. These cultural things are sometimes difficult."

  "Oh." Her eyes widened, and she blinked, swallowing visibly. "Tenderness. I get it"

  He smiled at her, noting that her pupils seemed to dilate in emotional response to his explanation. "Perhaps 'my Kelsey' sounds better?" he suggested in a gentle voice.

  "Probably less Star Trek," she agreed, her nose crinkling as she smiled. "If you don't mind my saying so."

  Reaching out his hand, he cupped her face, surprised yet again by the pristine softness of her skin. "My Kelsey," he whispered, "you look very beautiful in the morning light. This soldier should be so blessed every day."