by Kat Martin
A thick lump rose in her throat. Her heart beat painfully inside her chest, making an ache swell there. She looked at him and saw Patrick. Patrick’s beautiful face. Patrick’s lean, hard-muscled body. She saw a man of intelligence, a strong man, a caring man. She saw a man of principle who had gained the respect of the people around him.
“I don’t…I don’t even know what you look like.”
“If you’re asking if I have two legs, two arms, two eyes, two ears—the answer is yes I do. Torillians are a mental race, Julie. We’re not as physical as you, but in other ways we aren’t so far apart.”
She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. She hadn’t thought seeing him would make her feel this way, but she had been wrong. “It said in your journal that you’ve grown to like it here, yet you still plan to leave.”
He straightened a little in his chair. “Earth is a place of great beauty, of even greater passion. It’s unlike anyplace I’ve ever known, unlike anything I could ever have imagined. I’m fascinated by the strength of its people, by the challenges they face each day and overcome. But my time here is almost ended. I have to go back to Toril. I don’t have any other choice.”
Her heart ached. His handsome face began to blur. Oh, God, she was going to cry. She blinked to hold back the tears, determined that he would not see. “What…what will happen to Patrick when you’re gone?”
Concern darkened his features, regret and something more. “He’ll die, Julie. Just as he would have before.”
Her eyes slid closed. Tears slipped down her cheeks. Patrick would die. She would lose him all over again. The thought sent a shaft of agony straight into her heart.
“What about you?” she whispered. “What will happen to you?”
He glanced away, the skin taut over his high cheekbones, pain making his features look harsh. “I’m not sure anymore. Since I came here, everything about me has changed. I can’t imagine living a life without bright colors and explosive sounds, without exotic foods and violent storms. In the time I’ve been here, I’ve known great joy and great passion, experienced great sorrow. I’ve learned to feel things I never knew how to feel before.”
He shifted in his chair, leaned toward her across the desk. “And there is Patrick. Patrick and I have bonded in a way I never expected. The memories he carries will never leave me. Not through all the days of my life.” His eyes came to rest on her face, caressing her almost as if he touched her. “But mostly I’ll remember you, Julie. And I will love you always, from the deepest part of my soul.”
A sob escaped, a cry of anguish erupting inside her. Without a glance at Patrick, she leapt up from her chair, turned and raced for the door.
“Julie, wait!”
But she didn’t stop running. She could hear him calling her, hear his heavy footfalls behind her, but she didn’t slow. She raced out of the office, across the parking lot to her car, and jerked open the door. Through a haze of tears, she glanced one final time in his direction, saw him standing alone beside the door.
Her heart tugged painfully, felt like it was tearing itself apart. It took sheer force of will to climb into the car and turn the key, to pull the car into gear and drive away. She felt battered, beaten. Felt as if a great hot stone was burning a hole in her chest. There was no hope for them, yet her mind kept whispering his name, urging her to go to him. Reminding her that in a few brief days he would be gone.
It didn’t matter, she told herself. Patrick was already dead. She didn’t even know this man. He wasn’t even human.
But she couldn’t make herself believe it. Instead every time she closed her eyes she saw Patrick telling her his greatest regret was that he would have to leave her. That he would love her always, from the deepest part of his soul.
* * *
The storm had finally arrived. It was a day late, much to the weatherman’s chagrin, but the ground was so dry and parched the Earth itself seemed grateful for the life-giving moisture.
Julie stared out the big glass windows toward the gray, turbulent sea and the brooding clouds beyond. Wind whipped the waves into white-capped peaks and rattled against the windowpanes. Rain pelted the sand on the beach below, turning it a muddy, discolored brown. Soon the dull edge of light beyond the clouds would fade and without moon or stars the house would be shrouded in blackness.
Thinking of Laura, and of the things she had read in the journal, Julie wondered if she should be afraid.
She felt no fear, only numbness. And the constant ache for Patrick that wouldn’t go away. She had thought of him every moment since their confrontation three days ago, had told herself a dozen times that the man she loved was gone from her life for good. Patrick wasn’t Patrick. The Patrick Donovan she loved did not exist.
But as she had watched the storm, entranced as always by its dark, majestic power, she couldn’t help thinking how Patrick would have chafed at the storm’s intrusion, and how the man named Valenden would have loved it.
It occurred to her in a way it hadn’t before that it wasn’t really Patrick that she had fallen in love with. The best parts of him, perhaps: his physical beauty, his charm and warmth—but the qualities she loved most about him belonged to Val Zarkazian. She wouldn’t be drawn to one without the other, but together they were a man unsurpassed by any she had known.
The question nagged—did who he was really matter? The man she had loved was the tenderest, most caring individual she had ever known. He was strong and courageous and deeply committed to helping the people around him.
And she was still in love with him.
God help her, no matter who he was, what he was, she loved him still.
Julie leaned her forehead against the cold glass pane, absorbing the chill against her skin. Somewhere inside her, the voice she had heard before rose up, urging her to go to him. It challenged her to shove aside every notion she had ever had of the way her life should be, to bury the prejudice she felt and see instead the gift that she had been given.
It taunted her with memories, goaded her with her pain and loss.
Be as brave as he is, the voice whispered. Claim the love he has offered for as long as you can.
She moved her head from side to side against the window, trying to deny the voice, to tell herself she couldn’t possibly do such a thing. But as darkness settled over the water, the voice persisted, a hollow, nagging echo inside her head.
Go to him, Julie. You love him. If you don’t go you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.
Lightning cracked outside the window, a wild, jagged yellow shaft of beauty, glorious to her…as it would be to the man she had loved.
Julie turned away from the window, her heart awakening as if from a deep, mournful sleep, her pulse increasing. Purpose burned through her, her steps more certain than they had been in days. Grabbing the car keys out of the woven straw basket on the table in the hall, she jerked open the closet door and hauled out her rarely used raincoat.
Ten minutes later, she was driving the Pacific Coast Highway, listening to the slap of the windshield wipers against the glass, nervously worrying her bottom lip.
Trying to decide what she could possibly say to a man who came from outer space.
* * *
Val stood at the window of his apartment, staring out at the storm. Lightning flashed. A few seconds later, thunder rumbled over the empty streets. As long as he lived, he would never forget the wild pagan beauty of a storm.
Just as he would never forget the woman he had met here on Earth. He thought of her now as he had a dozen times, with a heart that felt heavy inside his chest. He wondered where she was and what she was doing. He wondered if she felt half the awful grief that he did.
And more than anything else, he wished he hadn’t hurt her.
At least she was safe for a time. The council had acquiesced to his wishes. The
y would suspend their testing of humans for the balance of time the Ansor remained above Earth.
And soon they would be leaving. As soon as he returned to the ship, they would make whatever final preparations were needed to conclude their research and end their mission. Then the ship would begin its journey home.
Home. Oddly, now that he had lived here, he had a hard time thinking of Toril as home. There was no one there he was eager to return to. He had friends, of course, his biological parents, but there, even close relationships were little more than a comfortable bond.
The door buzzer sounded. A visitor stood downstairs, outside the door to the lobby. Val walked to the intercom panel on the wall and depressed the answer button. “Yes?”
“Patrick?”
His stomach clenched. He knew who it was. “Julie…”
“Could I…could I come up?”
His voice came out husky. “Of course.” He depressed the door release, admitting her into the main part of the lobby, then waited impatiently as she rode the elevator to the floor at the top. His heart was throbbing, thumping painfully against his ribs. His mouth felt dry. He hoped he could keep the gruffness out of his voice when he tried to speak.
He was waiting beside the doors when the elevator opened directly inside his top-floor apartment. He stepped back as she walked out, giving her room, worried that he might do something to frighten her.
“It’s good to see you,” he said, careful to keep a respectful distance between them, wishing he could haul her into his arms. God, he had missed her. “I hope you’re feeling better.”
“I—I’m fine…Patrick. You did say it was all right to call you that. I have a hard time calling you Valenden.”
“To tell you the truth, here I feel more comfortable as Patrick. And as I said, I like the way you say it.”
She nodded, her face a little flushed, a dark auburn curl looped over one ear. She seemed a little nervous, but in a different way than the last time. Her features looked softer, less tense. Her eyes kept straying toward him, instead of glancing away.
His gaze ran over her clothes, a soft white jersey wool dress that just brushed her curves and fell gently to the floor. Her hair was freshly washed, a deep rich russet, buoyant with color and light. She looked pretty and feminine and he ached just to touch her.
“I’m afraid I don’t quite know where to begin,” she said. “I’ve been thinking things over, trying to understand everything that’s happened. It hasn’t been easy.”
“No,” he said softly. “I know how hard this has been. I want you to know I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I never meant for you to be hurt.”
“You mean you didn’t expect me to fall in love?”
Something sharp stabbed into his chest, followed by a trickle of warmth. Guilt perhaps entwined with the pleasure he felt in hearing the words. “When I came here, I was a different man. I was only interested in my studies. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as love.”
“And now?”
“You’ve given me incredible joy, Julie. All I’ve done is give you pain.”
“I think you’re hurting, too, Patrick. I can see it in your face whenever I look at you.”
His eyes slid closed. He hurt all right. He had never known such agony. He looked into her face, studied each soft curve and line. “I love you, Julie. Like so much that has happened to me, I never understood what loving someone could do to a man. Now I know.”
Julie blinked several times and glanced away, but a tear rolled down her cheek. “I’ve tried to bury my feelings. I told myself the man I loved was dead, that he died that day on the sidewalk in front of The Grill. But it wasn’t the truth. In the past three days, I’ve had time to think. The storm tonight, somehow it made things clearer…like the rain, washing away the dirt on a muddy street. I was never in love with Patrick Donovan. I was attracted to him, yes, but I never loved him. It’s you I love. Whoever you are. Wherever you’ve come from. I love the man Patrick has become.”
He watched as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. He wanted to go to her, but he was afraid. It took an effort of will to remain where he was.
“These past few days have been a nightmare,” she said. “Part of me died the day I lost you, the day I found your journal. Now that I realize the man I love is you, my heart is breaking for the day I will lose you again.”
“Julie…” He closed the distance between them, swept her against his chest and held her close, praying she wouldn’t push him away. Instead she slid her arms around his neck and clung to him, the wetness of her tears soaking the front of his shirt.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I want to be with you for as long as I can. I don’t want to waste a moment more.”
“Ah…Julie.” He buried his face in her hair, held her as she wept against his shoulder. “If I could stay I would. It isn’t something I can do.”
A slight motion of her head. “I know.”
He smoothed her silky red hair. “Stay with me, here in the apartment. We’ll take time off from work. Be together every minute we can.”
Julie looked up at him, tears clinging to her long black lashes. “I can show you things, Patrick. I can show you beauty unlike anything you’ve ever known.”
He kissed her eyes, her nose, her mouth. “You’re more beautiful than anything I’ve ever known.”
“Hold me, Patrick. Make love to me. We’ve wasted too much time already.”
The words surprised him. He drew a little away. “Are you certain? I know things are different between us now. I don’t expect you to feel exactly the same.”
She smiled with such warmth his heart squeezed. “I want you, Commander. Why wouldn’t I? You’re two men—Patrick and Val—formed into one. You’re every woman’s secret fantasy and you belong to me.”
He chuckled, a rumble deep in his chest, the first bit of happiness he had known in days. “So…you little hedonist, you want both of us at once. All right, my love. I shall see what I can do.”
Julie laughed as he scooped her up, her long white dress trailing over his arm. Smiling, he carried her into the bedroom, set her down on his bed and slowly began to undress her, removing first her rain-soaked shoes, then drawing the dress over her head. He discovered to his pleasure that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Outside the window, lightning flashed, illuminating the bedroom and casting their silhouettes against the wall. Thunder followed, rumbling across the sky, obliterating for a moment the reckless beating of his heart.
He paused as she stood before him dressed only in a pair of lacy white thong panties. He went hard just looking at her, wanting her as he always did. Bending his head, he kissed her, savoring the taste of her, enjoying the feel of her breasts lightly brushing his chest. Her small hands clutched his shoulders, but Val drew away.
“On second thought, I don’t believe Patrick would make love to you in here—far too tame for this occasion.”
“What occasion?”
“Our very first orgy.”
Julie laughed as he lifted her up and carried her into his huge black marble bathroom. “And Val would want to be someplace where he could watch the storm.” There was a massive skylight in the room, revealing flashes of the lightning overhead. A big corner window looked out over the city, yet the apartment was on a high enough floor that no one could see in.
Julie smiled at him as he set her on her feet beside the big sunken tub and turned the gold handles on the faucet, adjusting the temperature to suit him. A little tepid for Julie, he realized, so he turned the hot water up a little bit more. A row of clear glass jars sat on a ledge above the tub. He took one down, dumped in a handful of pine-scented bubble bath, then began to strip off his clothes.
Julie’s gaze ran over his body, watching the flex of his muscles, the movement of sinew over bone. A
ppreciation sparkled in the depths of her green eyes. Pride was there, too. And desire. She had not lied to him. It made him want her even more.
As he had discovered, he was a different man now. Where excess had once been unheard of, his passions now ran deep and extreme, a inexorable part of him.
His erection thrust forward, thick and hard, throbbing with each of his heartbeats. His gaze traveled over her beautiful upturned breasts, the soft rosy mounds at the crests. He assessed her tiny waist and the swell of her hips, her well-shaped legs and slender ankles. The lacy thong panties hugged the line between the globes of her bottom.
Standing naked beside her, he ran a hand over the curve of a firm round buttock, cupped it and gently pulled her toward him. She came willingly, her head tilting back as he captured her lips, urged them apart, and took her with his tongue. He groaned at the taste of her, sweetly erotic, warm and softly feminine. He filled his hands with her breasts, molding them gently, pebbling the ends between his fingers. Lowering his head, he took a nipple into his mouth and her hands came up to grip his shoulders.
She was pressed full-length against him, flesh to flesh, his erection hard against her belly.
“I want you,” he whispered, lifting her into his arms and carrying her down the steps of the big marble tub. Turning off the water, he sank down in the airy white bubbles, taking a seat on one of the warm stone steps and positioning Julie astride his knees, her legs splayed on either side of his. She sucked in a breath as he opened his legs, forcing her thighs apart and giving him access to the damp secret place between them.
The water lapped against their bodies, a liquid blanket of warmth. Beneath the surface he began to stroke her, delving deeply, his tongue dipping into her mouth with the same hot rhythm.
Desire surged through him, strengthening his arousal, making him as hard as the marble tub beneath him. Julie moaned and arched her back, unconsciously offering her breasts to him, enjoying the pleasure he gave, craving more of it, seeking fulfillment.
He would see that she got it, but not for a while. He wanted her to know passion more intense than any she had ever known. He felt the bud of her desire plump around his fingers, felt the slick, welcoming dampness of her passage. His mouth claimed a breast. He suckled and bit the end, laved and teased her nipple. Several more determined strokes and he brought her to climax, her head falling back as her body arched upward and her muscles contracted.