Parallel Seduction

by Deidre Knight

  "I did not order you to Change," Veckus thundered.

  "Your game's up." Scott smiled at his captor. "Now stop pissing around and get down to what you really want."

  "I want the human to undress now, too."

  Scott's throat tightened. "Why?"

  "I want to perform a bit of a study on why the reflexive metal released you when the two of you had sex. Now, strip her." Veckus issued quick commands. "Only this time, I intend to watch."

  "No way in hell—" Scott began, but was immediately cut off when several soldiers jumped him, wrestling him down. He was thrust face-first against the cold warehouse floor, and the whip sliced into his flesh once again. Grimacing, he struggled, desperate to reach Hope before his enemies stripped her bare.

  Beside him, he heard Hope grunting, and she cried out. Holy hell, this couldn't be happening.

  Again the whip stung across his shoulders. Then his lower back. Writhing, he worked to get a fix on Hope, but the relentless, shredding swipes of the whip kept him glued to the Moor.

  "Ten more strikes for Dillon—then we will begin."

  Scott felt tears burn his eyes, and blinked them back, slowly turning his head to get a look at Hope. She lay shivering against the floor; they'd left her underwear on, but otherwise she was completely naked, just like him.

  Veckus circled her, his blazing eyes feasting on her, and Scott arched his back against the whip, shouting in Refarian, ordering the warlord to release her—to back off his insane and cruel plan.

  "String her up against the wall," Veckus announced with a dark grin in Scott's direction. "Put the whip to her back next."

  "No, no, Veckus." Scott panted, scrabbling at the hard concrete. "Not her. Please."

  "Please? Please?" Veckus reached for the whip that was currently held in Kryn's grasp, slapping it against his open palm. "Did I just hear the powerful Lieutenant Scott Dillon begging me for a favor?"

  Scott pressed his forehead against the floor, trying to breathe or even to think—both of which were becoming increasingly difficult with the frigid air of the warehouse folding about his naked body, and the stinging welts of the whip emblazoned across his back. "Just don't touch her," he managed at last, swallowing hard. "She's not part of this war."

  "Then you shouldn't have made her part of it." Veckus took the whip and slowly dragged it across Scott's shoulder, allowing the leather strap to snake threateningly across his raw flesh.

  "Surely innocence means something, even to you," Scott argued hoarsely, but was met with cruel laughter.

  Slowly Veckus trailed the whip low across Scott's back, then lower across his buttocks. The cursed thing lifted, and Scott braced for a torturous slap—yet none came.

  "If you want to live—both of you," Veckus said, "then you will show me exactly what you did earlier to disengage the reflexive restraints. Now, Dillon, go to her."

  Crawling along the floor, gasping, Scott made his way across the small distance that separated him from Hope. She gazed in his direction, wide-eyed with terror.

  Don't worry, sweetheart, he transmitted mentally, praying she could somehow hear him. I won't let this go too far.

  Drawing her into his arms, he tugged her against his chest, and could feel her heart racing frantically against his. "Don't be scared," he whispered under his breath.

  "Your back, Scott," she murmured so low that only he could hear. "The way he keeps beating you."

  "It's okay." He captured her mouth in a rough kiss. Despite the horror of the moment, perhaps because of the heightened adrenaline, he felt a rush of warmth flood his body. It hardly mattered if his greatest enemy watched.

  "No! Not like that," Veckus coached from the sidelines. "In your natural form, Dillon. Change again!"

  Scott pulled apart from Hope. "Never."

  "Kiss her in your truest form, or I will kill her now."

  Hope reached to touch his face. "It's okay, Scott. I'm not afraid of you—you know that."

  Scott cast a scalding glance at Veckus. "And I'm not afraid of that vlksai bastard, either. You think you're in control here?" He wrapped Hope within his arms protectively. "You think you can debase me any worse than I naturally am? I have Antousian blood in my veins. Sharing genetics with the likes of you is the worst punishment I could have. You can't inflict that on me all over again."

  Veckus dropped beside them both, drawing his mouth against Scott's ear. "You should learn a little more respect for your own people."

  "Not until they deserve it."

  "Change!"

  "I stay in this form. You won't kill Hope—hell, you won't even harm her. You know why? Because if you do, you won't ever get a damned thing out of me, and you know it. So it's your choice, Veckus. Either stand down or lose any chance you might have of learning a fucking thing from me."

  Veckus circled them, running his hand across the top of Hope's head with all the sensuality of a lover, and Scott felt his face flame hot. If the man so much as touched her once more, he was going to kill the freak, his own life be damned.

  He was thankful when Veckus seemed to reconsider his strategy. "Bind them," he instructed one of the other soldiers. "Back-to-back, just as they are—naked. Let them see how persuasive the frigid cold can be."

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Back in the meeting room, the latest intel from a spy informing their every decision, Jared began to lay out a strategy for a joint attack. "Veckus is at our specified location, and that means your number one guy is ready to be taken out. I'm talking this is the bin Laden of the Antousian alliance, at least here on Earth."

  Colonel Peters studied him, jaw slack. "This is the alien behind the attack at Warren? That's what you're telling me, Commander?"

  Jared walked toward the table, braced both hands on it, and stared deep into Peters's eyes. "I'm telling you this: that Veckus Densalt is the motive force behind almost every evil move these aliens make on this Earth. I've seen his face firsthand, Colonel, and I've been his captive. You do not want Earth to fall into his hands. We also have"—Jared hesitated, looking toward Jake—"unusual intel that reveals the possibility of Earth's destruction under his leadership. The missiles at Warren? They were just the first of his schemes. Together, we must protect this planet at all costs. My own planet has experienced untold suffering as a result of this species. Don't let it happen again, not here on a planet that I dearly love."

  Colonel Peters rubbed his jaw. "He has two hostages, you say—FBI linguist Hope Harper, and then your man, this Lieutenant Scott Dillon, whom we held at the base."

  "Yes, and I can give you the coordinates—but it has to be a joint attack."

  Chris Harper joined the discussion. "What about the FBI's involvement?"

  The colonel turned to Agent Harper. "You apprise them of the situation, but the USAF will go in with Bennett on this attack."

  "They might not like that arrangement very much," Harper warned, raking a hand through his spiky blond hair.

  The colonel slapped his hands on the table, giving Chris a chastising look. "Son, you knew the stakes coming into this place. We're in the lead on this show, not you and your suits."

  "I want to come along." Chris rose to his feet, turning to Jared in supplication. "This is my sister we're talking about. I don't care who's running things; I'm good with a weapon, and I want in on this fight."

  Jared didn't want to overstep his bounds, so he deferred with a nod of his head to the colonel, who said simply, "Give him back his weapon, and he can tag along on your flight."

  Chris marveled as the aircraft catapulted out of the hangar and into the Teton Mountains. All this time, and the aliens had been right under his nose; all this time, and they'd kept the forces of their revolution here—hidden completely. How many years had Jared and his crew battled it out from this location so near his office in Jackson? Two, five, twenty? It was impossible to say, but after what he'd witnessed there at Jared Bennett's base, he had a grudging respect for the alien leader. The man knew what he wanted, and
it seemed—at least so far—that his primary intention truly was protecting Earth.

  It was bizarre to think of an alien loving this planet the way that Chris and so many of his own kind did. But after five years in the FBI, nothing much surprised him anymore. Human nature—or alien nature, for that matter—always seemed to take the turn you didn't expect. Bad guys turned good; good ones went rogue. You couldn't count on anyone to do exactly what you'd expect—sometimes not even yourself.

  Harnessed in, he stared out the portal window, watching the first pink of morning color the mountaintops. It had been more than a day since he'd slept, but he didn't dare shut his eyes now. What he needed was coffee, something to give his system a jolt. And he said as much to the Refarian soldier buckled in beside him. She laughed, and called into some kind of communication device on her wrist; shortly thereafter a man appeared with a tall disposable cup.

  "What's this?" He stared at the steaming contents of the Styrofoam mug in his hand.

  The woman beside him grunted. "Coffee."

  He gawked at her in disbelief. "Aliens like java?"

  "Our commander is a coffee freak, Agent Harper. That simple. Drink up."

  He took a tentative sip, wondering if this might simply be a plan to poison him. But it tasted like coffee—and not just any old coffee at that: a fine blend that made him close his eyes in deep pleasure.

  "Thank you," he said, and wondered just how similar these Refarians might really be to humans in the end.

  Veckus's strategy kept on changing. He and Hope had been harnessed together, completely naked and bound as one in strong loops of reflexive metal. Perhaps Veckus was conducting some sort of psychic experiment, trying to see how lovers would react beneath the cruel and merciless bindings. Then again, maybe he still hoped to secretly watch them make love, to see exactly how they'd circumvented the metal bindings once before. Whatever the warlord's motivations, Scott couldn't begin to guess at them, although the constantly shifting ground rules were starting to play havoc with his mental state. Undoubtedly that was part of Veckus's plan.

  The skin across Scott's back was bleeding and raw, and it hurt like hell being pressed up against Hope's own much softer back. He tried to focus on the comfort of sharing a physical connection with her, not on the stinging flesh across his shoulders and lower back.

  At least her condition had stabilized again—for now. But her current status did nothing to allay his fears for her health and well-being. Scott watched as in the far corner of the room, the Antousians talked, bent over schematics of some sort. Gods in heaven, he hoped it wasn't a map of their compound. Blinking his eyes, he dared to soul-gaze a bit, heightening his vision in an attempt to see what the group was planning. What he came up with was certainly unsettling.

  They were poring over detailed plans for Warren Air Force Base. Clearly Veckus hadn't given up that fight.

  Damn it all to hell. He had to get free. Against his back, he felt Hope shift her weight.

  "Hang in," he whispered under his breath. "Maybe the worst of this has passed."

  He had absolutely no reason to believe his assertion was true, but it sounded good, at least. She had gotten through her diabetic shock, so he wasn't entirely talking out of his ass.

  She leaned into him, nudging at his backside, and he sensed her unspoken words—felt them shimmy through his core being. I know we'll get out of this.

  That was what he heard, the words penetrating his heart as surely as if she'd spoken them.

  We will, he transmitted back to her. We have a future. Hang on to that.

  He couldn't be sure if they were really speaking within each other's minds, or perhaps he was already so far gone that he'd begun to spirit-slip her all over again. Whatever the case, he closed his eyes and lost himself in the moment of pure, innocent communication.

  For an instant he wavered along the thin membrane of exhaustion and, opening his eyes, saw Hope standing on the beach at Mareshtakes. A smile formed on his lips—she'd brought him home. It had been years since he'd seen the multicolored rocks along this shore, felt the waves roll over his bare feet. Hope stood along the beachhead wearing a large straw hat, completely naked, otherwise. And more gorgeous than he had ever seen her, the sun gleaming along her bare skin, practically making her human body glow.

  Come to me! she called joyously, waving him closer with the hat. Let's make love!

  He began running toward her, feeling the warm, wet sand beneath his bare feet. A discordant sound interrupted their reverie right as he swung her into his arms, turning her in a circle. A jarring, erratic one, like the peppering of hard rain against a rooftop.

  Together they stared up at the sky, she splaying both hands across his chest. She shielded her eyes, and he did so, too. Overhead, a full squadron of Antousian fighters split the bright blue sky.

  "Now, sweetheart! Now, now! Run!"

  Jolting awake, Scott found that their bindings had fallen away from their bodies, probably because of the intense and pleasurable emotion they'd shared in their dream—but that wasn't the first thing he registered. The entire warehouse was lit up like a bonfire, pulse flares peppering the floor all around them. Wordlessly, he took hold of Hope's arm and began shuttling her along the wall.

  "Stay with me!"

  She bent low, mirroring his quick, careful steps. "Is it your people?"

  "No idea. Just follow me!" He kept to the wall, and then there was a long hallway, already filled with smoke. His eyes burned, and he tucked Hope into the crook of his arm protectively. "Keep going. We're going to find safe ground."

  She did as he said, and under her breath whispered, "You warned me. In that dream. You were there, and so was I—and you told me what was happening."

  He gave her a light shove as they reached a turn in the hallway. "The flowers?"

  "Yeah, and those horrible planes."

  For a moment he paused, sucking in a breath. All around them gunfire and pulse rounds sounded explosively, riving the walls in every direction. At the end of the narrow and dilapidated hallway he caught sight of a stairwell. "I see our target." He gave her another forceful tug. "I'm getting us out of here!"

  With pulse fire nipping at their heels, they sprinted in unison—she into what was almost certainly darkness, he with their objective in clear sight. They hit the stairs so hard that they slammed into the wall, but he didn't pause or hesitate. "Come on, Hope. We've got to get up there."

  One minute Veckus had been contemplating his coming victory at Warren, and the next the entire warehouse had exploded into flaming bursts of ammunition rounds. Running down the back hallway, he headed toward the grain shaft. It would be the best place to wait this skirmish out while his troops did their job. He hit the stairway, taking the steps two at a time, but all at once a massive hand took hold of his neck.

  "Oh, no you don't," a rumbling voice said, twisting him back up against the wall of the stairwell.

  Veckus's eyes bulged as the giant of a man—Refarian, he could smell it—placed a stranglehold about his throat. "Where are they?" his enemy demanded, looming over him with frighteningly bright green eyes. He was a gazer. No, no, he wasn't Refarian … this was an Antousian-human hybrid, one who just so happened to smell like his enemy.

  Sucking at the air about him, Veckus grasped at his throat. "Brother," he tried lamely, but the enemy roared back in his face.

  "Where are they?"

  He moved his head, tried to speak, flailed his arms. At last the obscenely large creature released him, and he bent double, erupting in a seizure of coughs.

  "I … don't know," he claimed lamely. The brute raised his fist again, making as if to push him against the wall. "Wait! Tell me who you want."

  "I want my comrades."

  Veckus wasted no time; thrusting with the knife he'd hidden in his sleeve, he stabbed the man deep within his belly—and got absolutely no reaction. Not so much as a blink or a flinched muscle. Nothing. The large freak was an impenetrable fortress. Veckus stabbed again, h
is blade swiping at the air between them, and the hybrid batted his weapon away as if it were a mere annoyance.

  "I'll gaze you if I have to," his enemy threatened, "and you know where that can lead."

  For the first time in many years, Veckus felt himself tremble from fear. Gazing could lead to soul dividing; he'd never been on the receiving end of one of his own kind's gifts. "Give me a minute," he begged. "Dillon … and that human, that's who you want?"

  "And damn well you know it."

  "I honestly have no idea … I—I had them here, but in the chaos, they … escaped," he stuttered.

  The stranger's eyes began to glow, becoming two bright spheres within his dark face. "I've waited for this moment for a very long time," the man said.

  Veckus shook his head. "No, don't … not yet. I can help you."

  "Really? How?"

  Veckus sought for a strategy, but for once in his life all his game plans failed him. "I don't know where they are," he admitted. He had never planned on this particular result.

  "Then there's only one thing you can do for me."

  "Anything! Anything at all."

  The man's eyes brightened to knifepoints, spearing into Veckus. "What you can do for me," he said calmly, "is die."

  And with that, the hybrid's eyes sharpened to laser points, reaching into Veckus's internal self, plying and tearing at him like ravening claws.

  Veckus tried to scream, tried to break the man's piercing, dividing gaze, but couldn't look away.

  "Call me Jakob," the giant rumbled, and it was the very last thing Veckus heard before he felt his soul literally divide into a million shards of darkness.

  Chris rounded a turn in the smoke-filled hallway, and found Jake Tierny standing over a crumpled figure. "That's your man," Jake told him, wiping a hand over his brow.

  "The bin Laden of this crew—that man?" Chris asked, staring at the fallen alien.