by Susan Grant
She focused on him again, this time as if sizing him up. For what purpose, he had no clue, but that gaze did something to him. He wanted to be with her, he decided. At least give it a try. It completely and overwhelmingly went against everything he stood for. Not only for what she was, a Drakken, but for who he thought he was. His standard operating procedure told him one thing, but when he was in this woman’s company, the rest of him was telling him something completely different….
Keir closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the uncomfortable seat for the duration of the trip. He’d lost his ship and just about everything else that mattered. He wasn’t going to throw away his bachelorhood, too.
A LOUD, HOLLOW CLANG left Aral with no doubt they’d been released from the shuttle’s tow claw. “We’ve been deposited in their cargo bay,” he explained to Wren.
“From hauling cargo to being cargo,” Vantos muttered.
A voice on the comm instructed. “Disembark and proceed through decontamination. Leave all weapons behind.”
Vantos popped the hatch. With an ear-popping cold rush of air, they stepped into the cavernous cargo bay. It was as if they were alone on the ship. From the cockpit of the shuttle, a gloved hand motioned toward the decon tubes. Aral nodded his understanding and the pilots replied with a friendly wave. So far they’d been treated with cordiality and understandable reserve. It said a lot about the captain of this vessel. It was a well-run ship.
He held fast to Wren’s hand as they stood in the decon mist. They were a married couple. It was the one part of their reality that he wanted as part of their ruse. It would ensure they were able to share quarters.
The doors opened to a larger bay filled with supplies of various kinds. He and Wren exited first as Vantos and Kaz then stepped into the decon chamber behind them.
“Welcome to the Cloud Shadow.”
A young, pretty blond woman greeted them. With his battlelord’s observation, he noted the captain’s stripes decorating her sleeves and labeled her instantly as inexperienced in her role but sharp, her confidence a thin veneer over her uncertainty in her new position.
Her steps faltered, and she paused, giving Wren no more than a quick friendly glance but staring outright at Aral in definite recognition. His heart accelerated. Had Zaafran sent a picture around? Witness descriptions from Zorabeta, or of his father, Karbon?
No. That wasn’t it. Her eyes held no threat. Only shock. Wren must have noticed, too. Her hand squeezed his in warning as the captain turned to a tall, lean golden-skinned man striding into the bay to join them. He flashed a smile at them, his gaze only momentarily tripping over Aral.
A smile Aral knew. A gaze he could never forget—or mistake. Bolivarr. Aral made a quiet, choked sound in his throat as his ears rang with a rush of roaring blood. His brother was alive!
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ARAL GRASPED his brother’s hand in greeting, too hard, loath to let go, wanting to crush the man into an embrace.
Bolivarr’s smile wobbled. “Do we know each other?”
“Yes.” Pressure built behind Aral’s eyes. Fates, yes. “It’s Aral.”
No recognition flooded Bolivarr’s eyes. No accompanying shouts of joy. Aral shoved aside the crushing disappointment. To his brother he was a complete stranger.
He wanted to bellow in rage as fury coursed through him. What did the monsters do to his brain? Whose side was responsible—the Coalition or the Drakken? Or those who didn’t want the secret of the five marks getting out? He sent an accusatory glare to the priestess standing in the group. An ancient, she didn’t recoil in fear. She met his regard straight on.
Heart thundering, Aral tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. The only thing that was important was that Bolivarr was alive.
The captain had moved closer to Bolivarr as if to protect him. Her stare had intensified; she saw the resemblance between them. She’d seen it the moment he’d stepped out of decontamination.
Aral gripped Wren’s arm, drawing her close. “My brother. Fates, Wren,” he whispered in her ear. “He’s freepin’ here.”
Her violet eyes opened wide in astonishment. In the next instant he knew she saw what the captain and what Bolivarr saw but couldn’t fathom—their resemblance.
By the time Aral turned back to his brother, Bolivarr’s expression had changed. It was clear his brother sensed something now but seemed to be struggling to recognize what it was. Remember, Bolivarr. Try. He was using a cane and seemed thinner, and of course five years older. “Aral? I’m sorry. I don’t recall meeting you.”
Aral simply nodded, and it was as hard as hells to do graciously. He wanted to take Bolivarr aside and shake him. He wanted to demand that he remember who he was. By the fates, how could he not know?
Brain damage. Injury. Thought suppression. It could be a hundred things, all of them agonizing as hells for Aral to accept.
But his brother didn’t seem so sure anymore. The longer he studied Aral, the more he appeared to doubt they’d never met. Bolivarr was shaking now, using a cane to support more of his weight. He shifted reddened eyes to the captain as she brushed her fingers over his arm—a fleeting touch, but it told Aral there was more between them than what they were willing to reveal. Fates, Kaz.
Aral spun to where she and Vantos were emerging from decon.
Bolivarr made a raw sound. He’d seen Kaz. Everyone’s eyes were on him now, all except Kaz, who in her meticulousness was dusting powdery mist off her clothing.
The captain took over. “Sit down,” she advised more tenderly than a captain normally would. But Bolivarr stepped forward, ignoring her. A muscle in his jaw jumped. Something was happening. His eyes were shining bright. “I know her, Hadley,” he whispered and swallowed thickly. “I know her.”
Kaz was busy being greeted by a group of teenagers—military cadets, by the look of them. Appearing charmed, she glanced over at Aral, then Bolivarr. Instantly the blood drained from her face. Her look of astonishment, of utter disbelief, of joy, was all the things Aral had felt. But seeing it on her face, knowing what she’d gone through, made it all the more poignant.
Her voice held the slightest of trembles. “Bolivarr?” Aral had never heard anything uttered with such heartrending joy.
Bolivarr’s expression was equally wrenching. The cane bounced to the floor. Both the captain and Aral tried to steady him. He pushed them away, walking forward unsteadily but with increasing control. “Kaz,” he whispered. “Kaz.”
Aral glimpsed black eyes that were moist with tears of joy. Crying out in joy, she ran to Bolivarr, crashing into his arms, clinging to him as he crushed her close, his face buried against her throat, and leaving the captain to watch the scene with something close to pain.
Bolivarr gripped close, his eyes shut. Then moved her away, his eyes bright. They seemed to soak in each other’s features to the apparent delight of the surrounding crew, with the exception of the captain. It was clear she was trying to be pleased for the sake of appearances but her feelings for Bolivarr didn’t allow it.
“Well, bite me in the ass,” Vantos muttered, jamming a pick between his lips. “Who the hells is that?”
“My brother,” Aral said.
“I thought he was dead.”
“We all did,” Wren said.
As they stood outside the circle of the fevered reunion, Aral felt no less an outsider. He didn’t blame his brother. He gave thanks to the fates for finding him again. Alive. He held Wren close, all the more reminded how lucky he was to have found her.
“Aral.” He heard his name called in a voice he’d thought he’d never hear again. Bolivarr had set Kaz aside. In Aral’s mind’s eye he saw the little brother he’d always protected from his father’s harsh hand, the boy who never seemed to provoke the wrath that Aral did. He knew when to fight and when to fold. You were too stubborn.
Slowly, one limping step at a time, Bolivarr began to walk faster in his direction. “Aral.” Was that recognition in Bolivarr’s eyes? “M
y brother,” Bolivarr said with gut-wrenching awe. In the next moment they were locked in a hearty, emotional embrace.
CHAPTER TWENTY
GODDESS, SHE WANTED TO DIE. Hadley told herself she should be joyous that Bolivarr had found his family. She should be profoundly moved by the miracle it presented. She should be experiencing many good and noble things. It was hard to do when it felt as if she’d swallowed her heart.
The woman named Kaz whispered something to Bolivarr, and he threw back his head and laughed. She’d never seen him laugh like that. Bolivarr’s brother stood nearby, beaming. The woman with him was shy and quiet, her pleasure in the moment palpable. The fourth trader appeared about as pleased with the scene as Hadley was. In fact, he looked downright miserable.
Bolivarr wiped his shining eyes with the back of his hand. He beckoned her forward, not seeming to see her reluctance to do so. “I would like you to meet Kaz.”
Not I would like you to meet Hadley, she noted. Putting her friendliest, professional captain face on, she walked up to the couple.
The couple. Goddess. She and Bolivarr were “the couple.” Not Kaz and him. Everything she’d built her life around had come tumbling down.
Kaz beamed at her. Her skin looked made of marble, contrasting with plump red lips and thick black lashes. There was an air of reserve about her, an ingrained military bearing, and she was obviously of Drakken origin, making her seem a little hard. Hadley was a Talo farm girl with no tolerance for alcohol and a propensity to giggle. Kaz for all her beauty looked as if she could down whiskey shot by shot with her male counterparts and, Hadley was certain, wore ruby earrings. In fact, her gaze did hesitate on the earrings Hadley wore. She seemed surprised to see them in her lobes. She knew in an instant that Kaz wasn’t a pink woman. She was a red woman, and she was probably wondering why Hadley was wearing red gems when they were so obviously wrong for her. Where were Kaz’s earrings? Surely Bolivarr would have given her a pair. It was why he’d been attracted to them inexplicably in the market on the Ring. He’d unconsciously wanted Hadley to be Kaz.
It was all Hadley could do not to pluck the blasted earrings out. She tried to wrap her mind around how different she and Kaz seemed, yet they both had Bolivarr.
“Bolivarr’s been telling me about you, Captain. You served together on the Unity, and now here.”
As Bolivarr looked on, smitten, Hadley waited for Kaz to mention the other, nonwork things—how inseparable they were, how she’d stood by Bolivarr as he healed from each of the seizures, or of their shared love for giki-fruit ices, the plans they had to get married someday even though they’d never set a date. Kaz was why. She lived in Bolivarr’s heart. Although he couldn’t remember her, he’d still reserved the space.
“Welcome to this ship, Kaz. We are so happy to have you here. All of you.” She turned to Bolivarr. “I wish you two every happiness.” She felt as if she wanted to be sick. She’d experienced heartache before, but never like this. She’d fallen hard for Bolivarr.
How passionately they’d made love last night. Their last time. She stifled a groan and did what any captain in this situation would do. She called a staff meeting. “Senior staff—in my office. Now. Morggin, escort our guests to their quarters.” As Garwin listened with approval, she told the ensign privately. “And make sure you post guards.”
She turned on her heel and left the shuttle bay behind. Left the sight of her lover speaking in hushed tones to the gorgeous, striking woman who’d emerged from decon and did what Hadley couldn’t in all the months she’d known Bolivarr. Brought his memories back. As she rode the lift back to the bridge, Hadley kept her hands clasped behind her back. They were wet with sweat and quivering. You are the captain of this ship. Do not forget it. She couldn’t let the implosion of her personal life get in the way of duty. She had four strangers aboard her ship, evidence of someone trespassing on the site they’d traveled light years to find, and horrifying attacks on innocent priestesses not too far from where they orbited. She couldn’t think of her heart.
Goddess, it was going to be hard.
Once again she heard Brit Bandar telling her what a lonely job it was being the captain of a ship. If anything, losing Bolivarr had shown her the cold hard truth of that statement. She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, hoping her resolve and her spirits would follow her body language.
Garwin followed her into her office. Sister Chara and Doc arrived next. The only one missing was Bolivarr. She paced, feeling more dread as each minute crawled by. He was her security officer. He should be here.
It was time to be a captain and buck up. Keeping her breathing even, she sat at her desk. The cup that Bolivarr had drunk tea from last still sat on her desk. She closed her eyes and his face lingered now, his dark soulful eyes, his smile that was always somewhat sad. Now she knew why. He had a brother and a lover and an entire other life she knew nothing about. She tried not to think of him making love to Kaz tonight when he would have been making love to her. Her heart swelled and ached.
Her PCD chimed. “Keyren,” she said as she always did, feeling nothing like her usual self.
“Hadley, I’m going to be late. I’m with my brother right now. He needed to see me. And…we really need to talk.”
I’m sure we do.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He ended the call.
She took a steadying breath and addressed her staff. “The newcomers will be guarded round the clock. Garwin, continue to get your landing team ready. Bolivarr will provide the security detail.” If he decided to return to work. “And, Doc, I’d like you to examine him asap. We need to determine what meds if any he’ll need now.” She turned to her comm. She also needed to report back to Zaafran that the amnesiac wraith was no longer. But as much as duty required that she comply with her orders, she couldn’t bring herself to do it just yet. She didn’t know what he remembered. If it was war crimes or other atrocities, he could very well be put to death. Her heart froze over, and she realized that there was something worse than losing Bolivarr to another woman. It was losing him to the executioner.
THE BROTHERS SPOKE, heads close, gripping each other’s shoulders inside the quarters assigned to them. Then Bolivarr stepped away, his face, a gentler version of Aral’s, alive with emotion after the years apart were swiftly summed up. “I have to go.” With a polite nod in Wren’s direction, Bolivarr left.
Finally she and Aral were alone. “You didn’t tell him who I am.”
“I said you were my wife.”
“A lie of omission. You introduced me as the daughter of a government official.” In this world, wife or mate would suffice. Not in theirs. In Hordish culture a woman was always more than simply her person; she was her lineage, especially if married to a battlelord. She and Aral had discarded much of the tradition and old ways, but some things were still automatic.
“I want to be sure of him first.”
“Brother not trusting brother,” she said, pained to see it.
“It’s been five years, Wren. I don’t know where his loyalties sit now.” Aral dragged a hand over his face. “We have to be careful. He’s a Triad officer.”
“He knew from before that you intended to rescue me.”
“Yes, but not marry you.”
“He’s going to figure it out.”
“It buys us time to think our way out of this. I’d rather be doing so on a ship in the UT than in a holding cell on a prison barge headed back to the Ring.”
“They don’t know this planet is the real Ara Ana. We can give them that—I can unlock the sanctum. Think of the joy it’ll bring their people.”
“It won’t change the fact that you’re to be arrested on sight, Wren.”
“And so are you.”
An angry sigh came from deep in his chest. “On a trumped-up charge. Lies.”
“Then let’s be the ones to stop them first. No more secrets.”
Such love for his brother had shone in Bolivarr’s eyes. It made it hard for Wr
en to believe he’d let them be harmed. Then she thought of Ilkka and Sabra, of her father’s personal guards and the coup they had allowed. Loyalties changed when tested. She had the feeling that Bolivarr’s were about to be exactly that.
AN ENTRY REQUEST to Hadley’s office chirped. She’d locked it and wanted no visitors. Her data screen turned on. Bolivarr was standing outside. At first impulse she almost flew to the door. She came to her senses before she acted like a lovesick puppy. Did he come to “talk”? He ought to call it “rubbing salt in the wound.”
“Hey, aren’t you going to let me in?” He sounded hurt she’d locked the door.
“Enter,” she said, and the door slid open. In his Triad uniform he looked as delicious as always. Blast him. She could almost pick up the scent of his skin, spicy and masculine. He shut the door behind him. He appeared different somehow. The sadness in his features had lifted. He actually looked very much in love.
He tried to reach for her hand, but she kept it tucked behind her back. It was damp and shaky anyway. “Do you love her?”
His “yes” speared her heart.
“I’m not in love with her like I am you.” He squeezed her arm. His expression was incredulous. “It has been a shocking, amazing day.”
She suddenly felt incredibly ashamed for trying to divert his attention and force him to make decisions, when all he wanted to do was savor reuniting with his loved ones.
Then he exhaled. “I’ve known Kaz since I was small. We were best friends. We were lovers when I left to be a wraith.”
The words hit her like blows. She stood straighter, pretending they didn’t hurt so much.
“She didn’t want me to go, Hadley. We more or less broke up then.” The next seemed hard for him to say. “But I never came back, and she grieved for me, thinking I was dead. Guilt was the worst of it for her. We parted after a terrible argument and without apologizing. She never forgave herself. And I…” He sighed. “I never gave it a thought because my mind was wiped clean, Hadley. So for her our break-up is five years old. For me it feels like yesterday. I still have to figure things out, Hadley. I admit it.”