Atone By Treaty

by Kayla Stonor

  Angry, incomprehensible words followed, but caught in the fear of dark memories, hands pawing at her clothes, Gabrielle fought to escape his hold. Something sharp like a needle pierced the skin of her belly and Gabrielle stilled, numb and immobilized.

  As panic drained, coherent thought returned.

  Oltu had drugged her, his superior abilities rendering her physically helpless. Her inability to oppose him terrified her, but her thoughts remained clear.

  Humans had resisted the K’lahn for thirty years; nicknamed the alien invaders lizard for their scaly skin and reptilian features. Strong and fast, the K’lahn possessed physical and technological superiority, but their abilities did not compare to the Qui, warlord rulers of the K’lahn armadas. Genetic cousins to the K’lahn, Qui possessed a powerful physique with wings, heightened senses, and an evolved biological arsenal capable of far more than casual seduction. Gabrielle struggled to move, her tongue thick and heavy in her mouth, her body captive to a paralyzing agent Oltu had introduced into her bloodstream.

  The venom subdued her panic attack, but the lack of control turned her stomach, made her vulnerable, exposed. She fought the insidious hold with every fiber of her will, to no avail. Blue sky then forest trees switched to green plain and back to sky again. The world spun around her, faster and faster.

  They landed with a jolting thud.

  Gabrielle hit the ground more softly than should have been possible. She lay dazed and helpless, worked out that Oltu had taken the brunt of the fall, and cushioned her against the worst of the impact. As his grip on her relaxed, gravity rolled her off him and onto solid ground. She tried to move her hand and failed. Her cheek rested on the silky feathers of his left wing. Oltu’s broad chest filled her vision.

  He lay unmoving and her heart lurched at a notion he might be dead.

  Unable to do anything more, she concentrated on breathing, managed to draw in a deep breath, relieved the paralysis he’d inflicted on her didn’t affect her respiratory function.

  Okay, she lived and breathed, despite her frantic efforts to kill them both. In fact, Oltu’s solution made sense, even if she hated it.

  Embarrassment warmed her cheeks—hard to shrug off a lifetime of fear and loathing.

  Maybe Dad’s right. I’m not trained for fieldwork.

  Gabrielle operated in diplomatic circles, surrounded by United Regions’ security at her father’s insistence; a suffocating precaution after the loss of her brother. She was all her dad had left. As her father ascended the political structure post-Resistance, she’d discovered a penchant for breaking down barriers, controlling the outcome of a negotiation.

  Usually it was all very civilized.

  A groan escaped her lips.

  The sound galvanized her to fight the drug suppressing her body.

  Self-pity never won a war.

  She scraped nails through grass and into the dirt and, after a few minutes of effort, dragged her body forward and lifted her head to scan their surroundings. Flat overgrown plains stretched into the distance, filled with the incessant chirp of wildlife and a pretty smattering of flowers. They had cleared the forest-lined foothills and reached the more populated basin surrounding the landlocked Caspian Sea where al-Doziyen would be sure to find them.

  Behind her, Oltu lay still and silent, wings extended either side of him.

  He looked dead. No, no, God, no! Adrenalin surged through her body and propelled her hand out. She prodded him, desperate for a response, a leaden weight in the pit of her stomach, a devastating sensation of hopelessness she couldn’t explain or explore, because diplomatic considerations took precedence.

  The First Lord of the Qui could not die.

  Not on Earth, not at the hand of humans.

  His sister, the Qui Empress, loved her human consort, General Jaden, but in the event of her brother’s death, that love might not be enough to prevent her ordering a horrific retribution upon humanity.

  Oltu didn’t respond to her attempts to rouse him, but his chest rose and fell and his breath carried an unhealthy rattle. He was alive, yet blood soaked the ground near his head.

  Why had he shifted into his natural Qui form? It made no sense. Apart from terrifying her into a misplaced panic, his increased body weight was hardly conducive to controlled flight or a crash landing. The al-Doziyen would butcher him on sight! God, too many lives lost trying to defend her. Not giving up now. She wasn’t trained for combat and survival alone, but she had to finish her mission. Those men and women would not die in vain.

  Gabrielle poked him, hard. “Oltu? Wake up!” Numbness in her lips and mouth strangled her words, a hangover from Oltu’s toxins.

  His straining rattle intensified but then his eyes opened.

  After a second he whispered, “Put your hand on mine.”

  His arm touched hers, scaled fingers boasting nasty looking claws. Gabrielle forced her hand into his and sharp talons pricked her skin. They retracted and then his hard fingers were curling into hers as throbbing warmth extended up her arm. That rigid sensation of feeling trapped in her own skin eased as her mind reconnected with her body. Muscles unlocked one by one. She dragged in a lungful of air mainly out of relief. Gabrielle rolled off his wing and onto her hands and knees.

  “Why’d you drug me?”

  “I feared I would not hold you, that you would fall.”

  She nodded; her suspicions confirmed, noticed a pouch attached to his belt.

  “Is that water?”

  “For you.”

  She fell upon it, twisting off the top and gulping down sips of cool delicious water before wiping her lips and then washing her face, convinced she felt dried blood on her skin.

  “What is our situation?” Oltu sounded weary, in pain.

  Rising to her feet, she staggered a little as she found her balance. She scanned the forest line at the base of the steep rising Alborz mountain range. They had landed in the flatter drainage basin encompassing the Caspian Sea. “I can’t see anyone, but I did see a ground car from the ridge. It can’t be far away.” She returned her attention to the injured Qui. “I’m okay, but you’re not. You hit your head. There’s a lot of blood.”

  “The wound has clotted and internal pressure is reducing.”

  Oltu’s strange detached words reminded her of a classified briefing she’d read, a report by Captain Bea Solomon. The captain observed the Qui had impressive healing powers, particularly in their natural reptilian form. She and Bea had talked well into the twilight hours over a bottle of moonshine. Hopelessly in love with Ardant, a Qui noble, Bea believed the Qui could be trusted, to an extent. Gabrielle had argued that Bea’s judgment was compromised by her obsession with Ardant, and the real possibility she’d become enthralled by his Qui body chemistry. Bea hadn’t disagreed.

  In debriefings, General Jaden had made similar statements regarding his relationship with the Empress. The record proved humans’ susceptibility to Qui seduction. Everything Gabrielle knew about the Qui confirmed she should beware contact with Oltu. She needed to keep the hell away from the reptilian lecher—he was a constant temptation too dangerous to indulge. The president’s daughter cavorting with a noble of the Qui court of Katar screamed conflict of interest, a point her father had made clear.

  Gabrielle considered Oltu’s injuries. He looked uncomfortable, working to keep the weight off his wing. Despite her desire to get far away from him, concern flooded her. He’d hurt more than his head. She moved around him. Blood stained the back of his clothes but she couldn’t see the injury with his wings in the way. “Were you shot? Is that why you shifted?”

  “Yes.” He grimaced in pain. “My shoulder. Threw my balance. I hit the cliff while catching you.”

  Gabrielle reassessed the angle of his wing, the awkward way it rested on the grass. “It looks broken.” Her eyebrows arched upward. “You flew with a broken wing?”

  “Flight without grace is misfortune. A harsh landing befits a fall from the sky.” Though in pain, he managed a
wry smile. “A Qui saying.”

  She snorted a short laugh as belated gratitude shot through her.

  “Well, fall or misfortune, you saved my life.”

  His smile faded and his eyes darkened. “Your reckless actions endangered us both. The Fringes are no place for the untrained.”

  Gabrielle’s mouth pursed, the moment of warmth over. He echoed her earlier thoughts but she damn well wasn’t retreating back to her ivory tower on his say so. “I didn’t ask for your help! Why are you even here? I thought you were across the galaxy in Katar!”

  “President Rooster mentioned your mission to General Jaden. When I understood the peril of your assignment, I departed for Earth immediately.”

  Gabrielle blinked. Oltu made it sound so natural. Her brow furrowed as she shook her head in disbelief. “But Katar is thousands of lightyears away.”

  Oltu laughed darkly and lifted his head, then pressed a hand to his side—seemed he’d damaged more than his wing. He shifted onto his hip. “I rejoined my fleet a short while ago.”

  He had? Her father had said nothing.

  Unnerving that Qui forces remained in Earth’s solar system. Oltu’s personal fleet monitored the Sura K’la, a wormhole exposing Earth to attack by the Surashan, more damned lizards, and allegedly far more deadly to Earth than the K’lahn and Qui, except Gabrielle had seen little evidence to support that characterization. The Surashan were subversive and hostile, but they hadn’t invaded Earth, ended billions of human lives, or profited from human trafficking across the galaxy. Not yet.

  A Surashan threat gave Oltu and his Qui fleet a convenient excuse to lurk around the solar system in the name of Imperial Security.

  Oltu grimaced. “I see you suspect my motives. I must admit my fleet’s defense of the Sura K’la is not the sole reason for my proximity. It appears I too am vulnerable to the inexplicable human affliction that has cursed my sister, and my peers. You are the unlucky catalyst and over these months of my absence from Earth I learned that distance is not a cure.”

  The bitterness in his voice lifted the hairs on her skin and she remembered General Jaden’s whispered warning months back.

  “Oltu’s a sadistic son of a bitch. You should—”

  Jaden saw Oltu’s interest in her from the start, a fascination Gabrielle shared. Her pulse had raced the moment she’d laid eyes on Oltu, the warm aching sensation between her legs an unwelcome response to a Qui prince prepared to torch Earth. Surrounded by sharp-eared Qui, Jaden could not expand on his cautionary words and Gabrielle filled in the blanks.

  You should stay the hell away.

  She should have heeded the warning. Jaden knew the score better than anyone. He’d risked punishment by speaking out to her. They had shared history... intimate history, and he cared for her. Foolishly, Gabrielle held an open mind towards Oltu for the sake of intergalactic relations. The lizard rogue had been charming, yes dangerous, and ruthless, a challenge not to be underestimated, but still fascinating, and she hadn’t stayed away, not enough to resist his irresistible sexual magnetism.

  A single kiss from the reptile in human skin had blown her mind.

  Blood burned her cheeks, her emotions conflicted as ever, her body misfiring on all levels, repulsion and anger at war with her sexual response.

  Mortifying.

  Her father had noticed and granted her access to the debriefing reports filed by recovered prisoners of war, including Bea’s report. He hoped to curb her curiosity with facts. Three marines—former prisoners of war—admitted their enthrallment with the Qui emissaries who retrieved them. The three Qui seemingly returned their devotion. Sounded much like love to Gabrielle. The pattern began with Jaden and the Qui Empress.

  Gabrielle had her suspicions about intimate relations with Qui—humans had little control over their pheromones, and no defense against the way a Qui manipulated their responses with biochemical nudges. No one understood the full range of Qui abilities, but they could paralyze and sedate with a single touch, as she’d just experienced. Yet Oltu’s agitation suggested he resented this alarming pattern of attraction between Qui and humans.

  He called it an affliction, like Gabrielle was a disease that had infested him. Maybe these pheromones cut both ways...

  “You call it a curse. The Qui have no control over these pheromones?” Panic edged her voice. “You don’t control it? This thing between us?”

  “It appears not.” His eyes closed and he spoke more to himself than her. “An overriding urge to protect you dictated my decision to come here, to ensure your safety.”

  Gabrielle stepped back a second time and Oltu’s eyes shot open, as if he needed to track her movements. Rolling onto his side, he pushed up and onto his feet. Pain flashed through his eyes, a literal glow that blazed forth and added a mercurial fire to his rounded irises. His scales rippled as he tucked his good wing behind his shoulder. His injured wing hung disjointed at the middle juncture.

  He gestured at Gabrielle’s shirt. “If modesty permits, I request a strip of cloth to strap my wing.”

  If modesty permits?

  Off balance, confused, but unable to dismiss his pain, Gabrielle pulled out her shirt and failed to rip the material. Oltu approached, claws extended.

  Chapter Two

  His frustration with his fractured wing escalated as he wrestled with another discomfort—his attraction to Gabrielle. This female disturbed him on several levels and heightened his mating urge to an agonizing intensity that reduced his injury to a background throb. Her interminable fussing as she fashioned a splint for his wing extended the simple task beyond his endurance.

  She fretted over the crushing of a single feather.

  Her mating call became intolerable, threatening his vow to respect her honor.

  “Rip it out.” Pain and frustration roughened the order. When she hesitated, he reached around, grasped the feather and yanked hard. Its removal allowed her to continue with her splint, her ministrations methodical and tentative. “The wrapping must be tighter. Skal! Are you a child? Tighter! More!”

  A vicious yank precipitated daggers of pain throughout his shoulder.

  Oltu refused the pain outward expression—he welcomed the distraction—demeaning enough he required the help, especially from a human female, a delicate creature that held unacceptable sway over his emotions.

  His sister would appraise his resentment as parochial pride unworthy of his station, but then Empress Sonestra’s virtues transcended her gender and validated the supremacy of her position. Few females commanded his respect beyond their necessity for procreation—his mother and sister, naturally, and Commander Meseri also merited his admiration. Only one human had earned his high opinion, and Jaden advised that the daughter of Earth’s president be given the respect due a noble Qui. However, adherence to diplomacy had its limits.

  This human female had attained little to earn his affections, her influence granted by her father, and yet here he stood, on a planet he once pledged to destroy, drawn to her side. A galaxy had not dulled the memory of Gabrielle’s intoxicating scent and her arousing presence, so close, threatened his sanity. He held his mating instinct in check out of fear for her well-being.

  He’d hoped to avoid his shift to Qui form, anticipated he could retrieve her within human limitations. Events conspired against him—the unstable cliff, Gabrielle’s physical condition, and her fear, then the arrival of enemy forces. His injuries demanded a full shift to mitigate the pain and land Gabrielle safely. Now he fought to control a rampaging lust—only Qui survived mating with Qui in true form.

  “Why are you even here in the Fringes?” he demanded as Gabrielle tied the last knot around the makeshift splint. Irritation rumbled through his voice and he shrugged her off, making her stumble.

  Recovering her poise, Gabrielle glared back, her skin pale against her glorious mane of auburn curls. He inhaled her indignation laced with fear and, entranced, Oltu could not look away. Clothing expanding around his hardening cock, he fought
an urge to throw her to the ground. An image of Gabrielle on hands and knees accosted him. He visualized her silken hair gathered in his hand at the nape of her neck, the long line of her throat exposed for his attention.

  Lust descended over his vision.

  Her squeal of terror only spurred his desire to greater heights.

  She turned and ran.

  He caught her by the hair, just as he imagined, jolting her into his arms so she faced him. Her breasts hit his chest and he wrenched back her head, claws burrowed deep into her roots, forcing her to meet his gaze. Hot breath caught in his throat at the shine of tears in her eyes. The mating growl rumbled deep in his belly, a low vibrating sound that reduced the female in his arms to quivering flesh.

  His grip tightened and she spat rebellion in his face. “You are an animal!”

  “I doubt you have spoken a truer word.” He dwelled on her accusation, for acknowledging the problem helped reassert discipline over the ferocity of his mating instinct. Amusement cracked the sexual haze surrounding him. He released her, pushed her away, this time more gently. Rather than ignore the pain of his lust, Oltu embraced the throbbing in his loins until he and the thirst of mating became as one. Gabrielle watched, her eyes wide and alert for the slightest hint he would renew his attack, poised to run but holding firm.

  “You do well not to run, my Qui delights in your fear, the hunt of the chase, but molesting you is not my intention. Nor would it bode well for Qui relations with Earth. Do not provoke me.”

  She recoiled. “Is that your excuse? Your lack of self-control is my fault? Oh my god!”

  Her contempt scorched the air and Oltu stiffened and leaned forward, shrinking the distance between them until her jaw clicked from the tension.

  “I make no excuse,” he hissed. “Yet the scent of your arousal speaks to me, a constant temptation. Humans are so… undisciplined.” He growled, fighting to hold onto his tenuous control.

  Her unruly pheromones assaulted him, her fear and arousal fused into an irresistible mating call. How could she blame him for her lack of control? She called to him as true as she despised him. Her scent, dilated eyes, and breathless heaving betrayed what she refused to speak.