She had always been his dear friend, far more to him than simply a military adviser. She understood him—in some ways, better than Scott or Thea ever would.
"Yes," he agreed, daring shyly to meet her gaze, "wise choices are imperative."
Anika's dazzling smile broadened, revealing her large, white teeth. "This will be a fine duty, my lord."
By the time they arrived at Kelsey's apartment, Jared had on a thick cashmere turtleneck under a black buckskin jacket. His hands were gloved in black wool, concealing the subtle body armor that encased his wrists, forearms, chest, and heart. Likewise, his dark jeans hid the rest of his careful protection, so that he could move safely in the open but appear fully human.
As Anika had pronounced with a pert grin, he appeared "Both handsome and regal, while maintaining strong security."
He had put up a token protest at this assessment, but he smiled nonetheless. Now he found himself right outside of Kelsey's apartment, a blond-haired man with green eyes—tall, but not overly so. Nothing like the man she'd seen on the lakeshore; in fact, he resembled neither of the beings she'd glimpsed in him that night.
After scanning the perimeter in every direction, he passed through her front door without even the slightest noise—a benefit of shifting—and began walking stealthily through the darkened apartment toward her bedroom, where she was undoubtedly asleep at such a late hour. Sniffing the air, he hesitated, a smile forming on his lips. Yes, it was her, he knew, desire snaking down his spine in reaction. The male in him instantly awakened at the scent of his bondmate, even as the military leader within shouted down such irrational terms of affection.
Kelsey's bedroom door stood ajar. Pushing on it with his palm, he caught sight of her there in bed, illuminated by the moonlight spilling through her windows. What he saw stirred something so forgotten within him that he felt his palms burn in reaction: the urge to touch—to be touched. Pressing his eyes shut, he refused to acknowledge how many years it had been since he'd come this close to wanting a woman—really wanting one, rather than just availing himself of that which was offered to him. Gods, so beautiful, he thought, taking a tentative step closer. Hair like gypsy's jewels, the dark red visible even in this half darkness. He allowed his vision to heighten, so that he instantly gazed upon her as if in clear daylight. He breathed her in, held her scent in his lungs like a fine aroma, then released it.
Sprawled across the covers, she wore only thin cotton panties and a camisole—even in the dead of winter. Had she been feeling the heat like he had ever since their encounter? Her skin appeared flushed, and her nipples jutted outward like prize beads beneath that cotton. Studying the curves of her body, he felt his groin tighten in immediate reaction. This isn't natural, this kind of coupling, a political voice warned, but he recognized it as belonging to Scott Dillon, and ignored it altogether.
Tugging off his gloves, he slid them into his jacket pocket and took another careful step toward her bed. Cautiously, he settled onto the edge of it. "Kelsey," he whispered, lifting his rough fingers to her cheek. Soft, like a flower petal, the kind that might easily bruise—that was how her skin felt. He blinked in surprise.
"Kelsey Wells, wake," he urged softly, not wanting to terrify her. He could have done this job without disturbing her—should have done—and yet he couldn't seem to stop himself. Her sleepy eyes fluttered open, then widened, but she didn't move. She lay there in the dark, gazing up at him, unflinching despite his unexpected appearance in her room. A slow, delirious smile spread across her face and he stroked her cheek again, his fingers tracing down to her lips. She caught his hand in her own after a moment, their fingers twining in silent unity.
"You came back," she answered finally, drawing in a breath. His heart pounding a frantic rhythm, he couldn't help but smile in return, a reaction that had nothing to do with his reason for being here and everything to do with his soul's deeper intentions.
"I knew you would come," she whispered, brushing a hand through her tousled hair. Only then did he remember that he had not shifted back to the man she would recognize. Yet she still knew him.
"Are you surprised?" He cocked his head sideways as he studied her. By All's name, how had she known he would come? He'd not believed it himself until today.
"I thought it would be sooner." Sitting up in bed, the tumble of dark auburn hair spilled across her pale shoulders.
"Ah," he breathed, a hushed sound in their darkness, "you were giving up on me already?"
"Not yet, no," she said, still smiling.
"Perhaps you would have if I'd taken longer," he suggested, allowing his doubts about true love to solidify between them. She should know he was no naïve prince, nor a young man in search of a feckless enchantment. "Perhaps you would have forgotten."
"Are you making fun of me?" she asked, the radiant smile forming into a look of frustration. "I don't understand any of this. I don't even know your name. In fact, I don't even know what it is you've made me feel."
"I wasn't being cavalier." He stared into her eyes, searching them. He wanted her to trust him—to grasp that, just as she'd understood by the lake, he would never hurt her. At least not intentionally.
"I could have run," she whispered, and he swore that even in the darkness emotion glinted in her pale eyes. "I could still run now."
"You could," he agreed, brushing a long, spiraling lock of hair away from her eyes. "But I would follow." I would always follow, across the galaxies.
As if in reply, he felt the bond between them tighten, drawing his chest tighter than a drum. He recognized the sensation as Kelsey's pull on him, magnetic and unshakable.
"I want to know your name." She sounded almost angry, all the tenderness and joy he'd seen in her moments earlier replaced now by pained frustration.
He nodded, lowering his voice. "You could not pronounce it." That was the most truthful answer he could give—rather than the much easier one of his assumed human name.
She tilted her chin upward, eyes flashing with challenge. "Try me."
He laughed, then stated his Refarian name as rapidly as he could. Not just his personal name, but his full family name as well as his formal title, the whole of which comprised quite a long sentence.
"Well, that is"—she hesitated, laughing awkwardly—"mmm, kind of challenging, actually."
For a moment she attempted to repeat it, stumbling painfully over several of the syllables, and this made him smile. He had no doubt that Kelsey Wells rarely backed down from a challenge. "You may call me as all the others here do," he suggested gently. "By my assumed earthly name: Jared Bennett."
"That sounds a little like it."
"A bit."
"Jared." She tried the name out on her tongue, as though testing it to see if it really did fit him. "Jared Bennett. Jared." Touching her lips, she hesitated, then lifted her eyes to meet his. "I like it."
"I am glad." He wanted her to like the name; he wanted her to like everything about him. They fell silent, not out of awkwardness, but rather because of overpowering emotion. Do your work and be gone, Jared, the warrior demanded. Much is at risk for your people, the king urged. But then, lastly, the man begged for another course of action entirely. Take her with you, damn it. Take her.
"Kelsey," he began. "I'd like to show you something."
"Your ship?" she asked breathlessly, clear eyes widening. "I'd love to see it, would love to know more," she rushed, squeezing his hand.
"No, not my ship," he said, suppressing a smile. Kelsey had no idea how very human his life here on Earth actually was. "But someplace important to me—and to my people."
"Who are your people? I know you must be some sort of alien… a shape-shifter, right?"
"You have many questions," he observed, tracing his thumb over the back of her pale, freckled hand. "You are a scientist, I am told."
"How did you know—?"
"I know much about you," he explained.
Her whole expression changed, her voice growing husky as she
said, "I imagine you do." She leaned in close, cupping his face within her hands, drawing his lips toward her own. "I haven't ever felt anything like I did the other night," she said. As she brushed her lips over his, his entire body grew taut in reaction. He knew he would willingly let her gain control of him, a fact that perturbed him on every level. Without meaning to, he pushed her away slightly.
"I wish to take you from here." Frowning at her, he wiped the back of his hand over his lips.
She seemed not to notice—at least, not exactly—saying with a shrug, "All right." Releasing his hand, she slipped off the bed, scooping up a discarded pair of blue jeans and a sweater. Shimmying into her clothes, she seemed oblivious to the painful arousal she'd caused in him. "Okay," she said with a warm smile, "let's go—"
Just like that. No questions, no doubts. Gaping at her, he wondered why she wouldn't be afraid. He felt the burden of the acts he had committed, the blood shed by his own hands. A distant part of his mind ached to warn her against him, to send her a thousand miles in another direction, far away from the warrior and king.
But instead he whispered the truth. "I need you," he said, capturing her hard against his body. "So I beg your forgiveness for what I do next."
A man could do only so much harm in his quest to find love. That was what Anika had whispered in his ear right before transforming into an eagle and taking flight. Alone in the car with Kelsey now, Jared turned that phrase over in his mind, gripping the steering wheel of the Suburban until his knuckles grew white—until the blue veins stood out, stark against the blanched skin. Damn it, he knew he was lying to his heart, making promises he could never keep. The life bond he'd forged with Kelsey would have to be broken. Tonight. The leader within him would see to that fact, even as the man inside raised bitter fists in objection. But it had to be done, for everyone's safety.
Beside him, Kelsey slumped against the window, his winter scarf still wrapped solidly around her upper face and eyes. Her deep auburn hair spilled over her shoulders, waves of it that caused his fingers to burn. She stirred with a quiet murmur and sat up, clutching at the blindfold. Jared caught her wrist gently but firmly. "We're still driving," he informed her coolly. If he accomplished nothing else by carting her off to their camp tonight, he was determined to master his careening emotions.
She nodded, silent, and he instantly regretted the stern tone he'd taken. Softening his voice, he asked, "Are you all right?"
"I'm blindfolded and in a car with an alien who might or might not want to hurt me," she said coolly.
"This action is for your safety," he told her, frowning. And because I couldn't resist bringing you back to my compound. God, I'm behaving like a fledgling in the first flush of hormone release.
"Oh, right," she said. "It's definitely key to this whole enterprise that I be taken as a hostage." She snorted. "Hello? Hostage? Do your people have a word like that?"
He suppressed a smile. "Actually, 'hostage' works quite well."
"You think this is funny, is that it?" she cried. "This isn't funny at all."
"I think you are beautiful." Where had that come from? Silence, you brainless king.
Well, her reaction did nothing to quash the burning for her that kept growing inside him: her full mouth parted, forming a quiet oh sound.
"I mean, you are, of course, very beautiful," he persisted, training his eyes on the road ahead. Silence curtained between them, and in a burst of awkward anxiety, he turned on the stereo, and Radiohead blasted loudly from the car's speakers. Feeling with her hand, she grasped the button and silenced the music.
"Then why wouldn't you kiss me?" she asked, turning toward him even though she could see nothing. "Back at the apartment? I didn't seem to do anything for you."
"Kelsey," he protested softly, feeling his chest tighten with unwelcome tenderness for her, his bondmate. She could be yours, Jared, a wooing voice promised. In every way that I man could claim a mate…yours.
"I guess I'm beautiful, but not very exciting," she continued, turning back toward the window. "It's that whole sister vibe, which is pretty much the lifelong thing I get from most guys." She sighed. "It's something that just happens when you're almost six feet tall."
"I make decisions based on pragmatism," he answered, reaching a hand to clasp her shoulder, aching to transmit some sort of tenderness to her. She jumped at the contact, but he did not withdraw. Instead, he curled his long fingers slowly through the hair along her nape so that his heat threaded into her body, opening up the physical connection between them. "Such is the way of all leaders."
Shivering beside him, she pressed on: "What kind of leader are you?" Only then did he recall that she knew nothing about his identity—nothing important, at least. She had no idea of the war between their two worlds, or of the rebel forces that he led here on her planet. He was just a man of fire, one who had reached into her most intimate places for reasons she couldn't begin to fathom.
He withdrew his hand from her shoulder. "What kind of leader am I? Right now, a fairly stupid one." For her safety, the less she knew the better.
"Who do you lead?" she insisted.
Blowing out a heavy breath, he focused on the road ahead, training his eyes on the yellow centerline. Maybe if he didn't answer, she would let it go.
"Tell me who it is you lead!" she cried, grasping outward with her hand and feeling for him.
"My people," he answered. "We are in a war, and..." What more could he tell her? Knowledge would place her in extreme danger—and him as well, not to mention many millions of others.
"And you're leading these people from here on Earth?" she questioned, leaning back in the seat "What sort of war? Who are your enemies? Are you fighting us?"
"Humankind is not the enemy I fight." Partial truth and partial lie, but it was best that way.
"Why are you here, then?"
"My own planet is in chaos, Kelsey," he answered, grief stabbing at his heart. "The war has raged for a long time, and taken a brutal toll on my species. The people we fight would destroy every last one of us. They are genocidal and cruel and despise my kind." As he spoke, he found that it felt right to open up to her so boldly. It comforted him in some strange way that he didn't bother to question. "I am the last in my line. All the rest were either murdered or died in battle. So now it falls to me. I am the only one who can save my people."
She didn't answer at first, only nodded, sitting ramrod straight in the seat beside him. Perhaps so much information had overwhelmed her. She had no experience with such things. But then she surprised him, whispering softly, "But why does all that responsibility fall to you? That's a huge burden for any one man."
His breath caught at her words, choking him with years' worth of unexpressed pain.
"You may have a bad habit of taking hostages," she continued, a tender expression on her face, "but I do know you're a good man."
He ached to warn her, to tell her of all his horrible deeds. To remind her that he could spill her blood and drain it from her body with one lift of his hand. Murderer, changeling, king, freak. All the descriptors applied and in equal measures, but never lover or husband or lifemate. Those words were the property of other men—ones who led easier and less complicated lives.
"A good man," he repeated dully.
"I knew it within moments of meeting you, Jared."
"You make many assumptions based on little fact."
"I know what I sensed that night," she insisted as she dislodged the blindfold with her free hands—hands he had intentionally left unbound so she could retain her rightful sense of freedom. Only for an instant did she glance at the road ahead, then she reached out to touch his hand where it gripped the steering wheel. "I knew then that you were someone I could trust," she said. "And I know that now."
He did not react, did not move—and did not push her away. "You should not come to such conclusions so easily," he said tersely, then turned up the stereo full-blast to drown out any answer she might have given him.
/> Chapter Five
Jared pulled the Suburban up in front of a large, rustic cabin perched on a mountain peak. Their winding approach had proven difficult, with the vehicle's tires spinning and spitting packed snow on the unpaved drive. At one point, the rear wheels had become entrenched in a deep snow bank and then spun out on the ice, but Jared, obviously used to the terrain, never flinched. They had driven at least four or five hours from Laramie, and he'd never mentioned the blindfold again, not since she'd removed it. She had seen some highway signs since then, ones for Bondurant and Pinedale and other towns in the western part of the state. This put them, according to her calculations, in the vicinity of Jackson.
After shifting the SUV into park, Jared sat and stared at the brightly lit cabin in front of them without speaking. Exhaling slowly, like a man deep in thought, he rubbed one large palm over his closely cropped hair. Somewhere along the drive, the blond hair had again become black, the green eyes again the lovely dark ones she had seen the other night.
Two men emerged from the cabin's interior and walked toward the vehicle, but Jared raised his hand, issuing some sort of sign. They immediately retreated, closing the cabin door behind them.
Jared watched them, his dark eyebrows hitching together in an unreadable expression. She followed his gaze to the cabin's brightly lit windows; inside, even though it had to be at least three or four in the morning, she could see people moving about. For a moment, she had the laughable notion that perhaps Jared wasn't an alien at all, but rather some perverse underground cult leader. Wait, weren't there supposed to be alien abduction cults? She thought of one in particular, where a whole houseful of people had committed suicide dressed in brand-new running shoes, and prayed that nobody would ask her shoe size.
But the seriousness she saw in Jared's eyes reminded her of all the weighty secrets he'd shared with her. Of his people being pursued to extinction by their enemies, chased from their homes, wandering across the galaxies. No, this was no laughing matter for Jared Bennett. Of that much she was certain.
Parallel Attraction Page 6