by Lea Kirk
Why in all the hells was he so agitated? As the ranking officer, it was expected and appropriate that he assume command. His behavior this morning was inexcusable. “Never mind, Lieutenant Commander. I seem to be having an off day.” And why would he admit that to a subordinate? “Dismissed.”
Laurentius nodded and backed away, confusion in his pale blue eyes as he turned. There was something else in those eyes too. Something haunting, or...painful.
Ska. “Cassian.”
The young man turned back. “Sir?”
“My heart grieves for the loss of your wife.”
Cassian Laurentius’s face relaxed. “I thank you, sir.”
“Your attendance is requested at the staff meeting in the operations room this afternoon.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned away again.
Gryf compressed his lips. So much loss. So much pain. And there was very little he could do to alter the situation unless Alexandra had a change of heart.
~ * ~
Alex stood in the food storage cave glaring at a stack of fifty-pound bags of flour. Where had the supply crews even found fifty-pound bags of flour? Did anyone need that much flour? Okay, Maria Alvarez, the camp cook, did have an army to feed, but still.
“I got it, Alex.” Her brother firmly grasped the humongous bag of flour on top, prepared to single-handedly move it from its shelf to the hand truck.
“Knock it off, Nicky. I can do it.” There was no reason she should snarl at him like this, but he’d annoyed the snot out of her all morning.
“Whoa.” He backed off with his hands up. “Someone got out of the wrong side of her sleeping bag this morning.”
“Really? That’s the best you can come up with?”
“No.” He dusted his hands against his jeans. “This is.” He turned and stomped out of the food storage cave.
“Hey! Where are you going?” The twerp ignored her question as he clambered down the slope below the cave’s entrance. She flung her arms wide. “Fine. Good riddance.”
She turned back to the flour bags. They silently mocked her.
Argh. She’d been given one job this morning, and she needed to do it before meeting Dante to officially begin her training as a healer.
“Well, crap.” Loading the flour and hauling it down the incline and up the rocky path to the cooking area was a superhero-sized job, and she was a mere mortal. A mortal deserted by her side-kick. Bet Batman never had to deal with this.
Damn, but she wanted to hit something. Punching a flour bag lacked a certain amount of gratification. They didn’t react, and she wanted a reaction.
A wave of dizziness slammed into her and she staggered forward until her hands connected with the cool granite of the walls. What the hell was wrong with her? She turned and leaned her back against the cool stone. Little sparkles of light danced in her vision. So not good. She needed help. She needed….
“Alexandra?”
Gryf! “In here.” She stepped away from the wall toward his voice beyond the entrance, but her legs collapsed leaving her spread-eagle on the dirt. Shit.
Then Gryf was next to her, his hands touching her as though checking for injuries. “Are you injured, compa?”
“I don’t think so.” What a time for her lips to turn into rubber. She’d slurred every word like a drunk.
Gryf pulled her upright. “I am sorry, so sorry.”
Sorry? Sorry for what? “Off...dirt.” That made as much sense as his apology.
Apparently, Gryf understood better than she’d thought, because he managed to get her seated against wall. Then he slumped next to her, panting. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
“For what? Finding me?”
“No.” He hesitated. “You will not like what I have to say.”
“Can’t be any worse than telling me I’m supposed to save the universe by fulfilling an alien prophecy.”
“No. It involves the other topic.”
Right. The soul mate thing.
“May I touch you, Alexandra?”
She gave him an open-mouth stare. “Why?”
“It should alleviate our mutual discomfort.”
As much as she’d love to believe this was an attempt to get back in her good graces, there was nothing devious lurking in his eyes. In fact, all she could see was honesty, a trait he valued as highly as honor. And if she were also honest, there was no denying that she’d like to have him touch her.
“Um, how do you want to touch me?” A tremor ran through her.
In response, he opened his arms. Now the ball was in her court. She could either accept the hug or not.
She scooted next to him and he enveloped her in his strong arms. Tension drained from her shoulders as though sucked down an invisible drain, and their breathing synchronized. This is so much better. Snuggling into him and wrapping her arms around his waist was perfectly natural. Desirable, even.
“Are you better?” Gryf asked.
“Much. So, what’s happening to me?”
“To both of us. I have suffered from a concerning lack of empathy and sound judgement this morning.”
“You too, huh?”
“It has been shameful.” One large hand stroked over her hair. “Can you deny feeling the discord within you ease now?”
“No.”
“Our souls needed proximity to each other. It is called anim loqui, soul commune.”
“Um, okay.”
“Whether we are anim tros or not, our souls need time together each day to avoid a repeat of this morning’s physical reactions.” The warmth of his breath stirred against her hair. “Alexandra, I am sorry about yesterday. Truly. I will not lie to you. Anim tros is very real, but I will not demand your compliance. It must be given willingly.”
His heartfelt apology washed through her. Since the air around them all but shimmered with honesty, then a little more from her couldn’t hurt. “Ora gave me a copy of that prophecy yesterday.”
He tensed but said nothing.
“I’ve given it a little thought, but Gryf, the whole idea scares me.” She pushed back to meet his gaze. “I mean, I’d lose everything I am. Alex Bock would cease to exist.”
He traced one finger along the side of her face. “It is not like that. Alexandra Bock and Gryf Helyg would continue to exist, but they would change. Grow. Become more than they are now. Their life goals would be shared, and they would live and die as one.”
That almost sounded…. “Wait. You mean we’d die together too? Like, at the same time?”
“So it is with soul mates, they are a part of the same whole. Half a soul cannot exist.”
“Like being married.” For eternity. What if she wasn’t ready to die when he did?
Gryf pressed his finger against her lips. “Anim tros does not equate to marriage, Alexandra. It is a mating of souls, not a secular union. There have been many before us who have not married, many pairs of the same gender. Even a few who were already married to their life partners when called to eno anim.”
What would his finger taste like if she licked it? She shook off the deranged thought. He was trying to make it easier for her, she could read that much in his eyes. The least she could do was consider it.
She gave him a nod. “Okay, I’ll think about it, but no promises.”
His hand caught hers and brought it to his heart. “Thank you, compa. There is nothing more I could wish for.”
The truth of his statement was reflected in his eyes. How funny was it that her favorite color was blue? Heat rose to her cheeks. Cripes, she had missed him. Be honest, Alex. One kiss more than twenty-four hours ago is not enough.
She ran her free palm over his smooth cheek. “You shaved.” How had she missed that earlier?
“Shall I grow the beard back?”
“No. I like seeing your face.” Really, really like it. His rough beard had hidden a strong, well-defined jawline. And he appeared younger—closer to twenty-seven than thirty.
“Alexandra, in Matiran culture women….”
“Make the advances. I know. Karise was kind enough to explain all this to me in the cell.” It was more of a “don’t do this, and don’t do that, and here’s why” lesson than a match-making session. In hindsight, it was obvious that even they had realized the dangers of her being involved with their captain.
But now there wasn’t any danger—aside from their souls joining. And she was the woman here, so Gryf expect her to set the pace. “Be totally honest. If I kissed you, would that emo...ene—”
“Eno anim.”
“Yes, that. Would it happen?”
“It will not. It is possible if we use our Gifts on each other, but not from simple physical contact.”
“Good.” She shifted to slip her hand behind his head, burying her fingers in his hair. His eyes darkened to indigo as she drew his mouth down to meet hers. She peppered his lips with short, closed-mouth kisses. “Open for me,” she whispered. He did, slipping his arms around her, drawing her closer. Sweet mint filled her olfactory senses, and a trill fluttered through her belly. God, he tasted—magnificent. She moved onto her knees, taking a dominant position, and splayed her other hand through his hair. Damn, it felt good to be in control. Her tongue slid over his as he delved deep, then sucked her in as he retreated. Cripes, the man could kiss.
A pleasant heat built in her lower belly as she flattened her breasts against him. Something stirred inside her as though awakening, and her eyes flew open. Pushing away, she pressed her hand over the center of her chest. “Whoa.”
“Are you well?” Gryf’s voice was laden with concern.
“I think so. I think I just felt my soul move inside me. It was weird. I’ve never been aware of it before, but now it’s like another entity living inside my body.” She scrunched her nose. “That sounds pretty freaky, huh?”
Gryf reached for her and pulled her to sit sideways on his lap. Her hands found their way to his chest and he reverently covered them both with one of his. “I never imagined such was possible. Yet, that’s not the only thing I’ve discovered was possible recently.”
“Me neither.” She drew her brows together and pursed her lips. “Did you just speak with contractions?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Putting together two words, like ‘I’ and ‘have’...I’ve. And you used ‘that’s’, too! I’ve only heard Graig try to do it, but he’s been pretty awkward. You just used them and didn’t even notice.”
“I did.” His face registered pleasant surprise. “Do I still have an accent?”
“Yes, and please don’t lose that. I like it.”
His warm chuckle went straight to her heart. “For you, I will keep it.”
“Good.” She tipped her head to one side. “May I ask you something personal?”
“Of course.”
“What exactly is your Gift?”
His eyes widened slightly. “You don’t know?”
She gave her head a shake, and he smiled. “It is unusual. I carry the Gift of Reason, which is very effective during political negotiations, or a hostage stand-off. For most Matirans—and yourself—touching a recipient is necessary to use their Gift. To use my Gift, I need only be in the proximity of the person or people I affect.”
She frowned. “So you do...what? Release it?”
“In a manner. Have you ever seen a lake steam at sunrise?” She nodded and he continued, “I let my Gift flow from me in such a manner. It calms those around me when they are agitated, and gives them the ability to make clear, rational choices. It has been a boon during tense situations aboard the Atlantis.”
That made sense. “Can you direct their choices?”
“No. I cannot impose my will on others, nor would I, were I able.”
Well that was a relief. A power like that could corrupt anyone. “Did you use it in the cell?”
“Twice. Once to keep you from vomiting inside your hood, the other to aid Dante after Dennis’s murder. Both touches were brief.”
So brief she’d barely noticed. She gazed at their joined hands.
“It’s not illogical that you would be curious,” he said softly. “But to show you would risk our souls.”
And she didn’t want that.
Gryf gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “As much as I am loath to admit, our presences will be missed soon. Are you ready to return to duty?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded. Gryf helped her transfer a bag of flour to the hand cart. At the entrance, he laid a hand on her shoulder.
“Thank you, Alexandra.”
“For what?”
“Hearing what I have to say. I understand why you hesitate, and it is wise. To rush into anything without complete understanding, rarely works out well.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alex gazed across the warm, orange glow of the low-burning cooking fire, and laughed at her brother’s dumbfounded expression.
“You mean you’re not going to stop me?” Nicky’s breaths hung like foggy puffs on the night air as he gaped at the tiny, paper hospital cup of peppermint schnapps she offered.
“I’m not your parent, Nicky. You’re capable of making your own choices.” She shifted her bottom on the small boulder. At least his choice was easy. Her brain still spun from her conversation with Gryf this afternoon. Clearly her feelings for him hadn’t gone away, even in light of the Profeti thing. If anything, they seemed stronger. What was she going to do about that?
“Alex Bock, corruptor of youth.” Simone leaned against Alex’s leg, sipping from her own cup. It’d been Simone’s idea to gather the Earthlings in the cooking alcove. A chance to bond, like a family reminiscing in a kitchen.
“Youth are rather good at corrupting themselves without my help.” Alex ruffled her friend’s tightly curled hair.
“I can agree to that.” Gunner raised his cup in salute.
“I can drink to that,” Bodie added, also raising his cup.
“You can write a song about that,” Simone commented drily.
“I could,” Bodie agreed. “If I could get drunk enough, which I can’t with these puny paper cups. Damn Anferthians took out an entire block of pubs, but left the hospital standing. Seriously, where are their priorities?”
Sniggers rippled through the circle at his snark.
“Not anymore.” Kelly, a buxom thirty-something with a thing for vengeance, frowned at the flickering coals. Everyone had lost someone in the invasion. Kelly had lost her eight-year-old son. “The hospital was gone when we went down there last week.”
“Sí, it’s all gone now.” Ramon Alvarez cast a sad look at his wife, Maria. “The Anferthians turn everything we’ve built into piles of dust.”
“Solaris tells me they’re very adept at removing all evidence of the original occupants of a planet.” Kelly’s voice was bitter. “We’re not their first conquest.”
Alex passed her schnapps to her brother. “I hardly think that twenty-one is the law anymore. One sip only, and if you like it, you can get your own cup.”
Nicky took a sip, scrunched his face, then handed it back to her. “Maybe next time the supply patrol can find beer.”
“Ah, no,” Ramon disagreed, thumping his chest. “Tequila. That will put hair on your chest, niño.”
“So that’s where I’ve been going wrong.” Nicky grinned, rubbing his chest good-naturedly. Another chuckle went through the circle.
“So we know what Ramon and Nick will miss the most,” said Simone. “What one common everyday item do the rest of you miss most?”
“Chocolate,” a young Chinese woman volunteered.
“Ooh, yeah, Li-Min,” agreed Simone. “I’ve been missing flushing toilets.”
Several heads nodded.
“My all-electric kitchen.” Maria smiled at her husband.
“I will give you another one day, mi amada.” Ramon took his wife’s hand and kissed her knuckles. It was so sweet how in love the young couple seemed to be.
“The interweb,” Duck said with a
shake of his head. “I miss orderin’ stuff online and havin’ it magically appear at my door a few days later. Miss my door too.”
LaShawn Butler gave Duck a surprised look. “No shit? You had a computer?”
“Yeah, ya know, us hillbillies need our ammo,” Duck replied with a grin.
LaShawn shook his corn-rowed head and snorted. “Since no one has said toothbrushes, I will. Makes more sense than Amazon Prime deliveries.”
“Kid’s got a point.” Bodie crumpled his cup and zinged it into the fire. “I’d love to do some space travel.”
Duck snorted. “After ya nearly fainted th’ first time ya laid eyes on them Matirans? Hell, I can’t wait t’ see you in space.”
“Well, you can’t blame me,” Bodie protested. “I’d just found a nice quiet spot by a creek to write songs, then suddenly I’m surrounded by escapees from Area 51.”
Laughter erupted from the rest of the group, then Duck waggled his thick eyebrows, “Ya couldn’ take yer eyes off Sister Golden Hair.”
A chorus of “Whoas” and whoops rose into the thin night air, but Bodie just turned to open one of his guitar cases. “A little bird told me you can play, Nick. How about Desperado?”
Alex grinned into her tiny cup. This “little bird” might be seriously biased, but her brother could sing better than anyone she knew. And Desperado was one of Nicky’s favorites. Bodie had all but handed him a pot of gold.
Nicky fiddled with the strings as if it was no big deal his idol had asked him to play with him. That’s it, play it cool, twerp. I know better. Her brother gave Bodie a nod and the older man took the lead, and for three and a half minutes no one moved. It was like all the evenings she and Dad sat in the den listening as Mom played the piano and Nick sang along with her. Evenings that would never happen again.
At the last chord, Simone wiped her eyes. “Well, I’m a fan. Alex, why didn’t you tell us that boy could sing?”
Nicky’s cheeks darkened and he handed the guitar back, but Bodie shook his head and strummed the intro to one of his own songs called From the Stars. Bodie had written it five years earlier, and now it sounded almost prophetic.
Prophetic. Alex swallowed. Gryf was close by; she sensed his presence, but he’d refused to intrude on the Earthlings’ time together. She slid off the rock to sit in the dirt next to Simone. Now was not the time to think about prophecies and all the baggage that came with them. She tossed her empty cup into the dying flames. Simone grabbed her hand and they joined the others singing, their words of determination, survival, and hope hanging in the chilly night air.