The Ultimatum

by Susan Kearney

  Alara fought the primitive urge to look at him.

  She tried not to savor his wondrous scent and distracted herself with analysis. There was something unusual about him. Something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. Her mind tumbled and then settled. He didn’t smell like an Endekian because . . . he wasn’t Endekian.

  Last year, or next year, she might have been more wary. This year, she was dealing with Boktai and wasn’t herself. Her psi was already failing. Intoxicated by his seductive scent, she barely held back a sigh of infatuation, fought off the fantasy of his breath fanning her ear, his hands roaming over her body, his mouth skimming a trail of heat down her neck. All the while her hunger to see him was building.

  “Who are you?” Unable to remain cautious, she turned around.

  He smiled at her—a charming, you-can’t-resist-me smile that would have taken her breath away—if sheer surprise hadn’t already done so. He was one giant of a man, one fantastic male specimen who was so damn appealing, he’d haunt her dreams—even if they never spoke again.

  At the sight of bronze male skin molded over a powerful physique, her respiration increased. As if the cooling in her suit had failed, sweat dotted her brow and her muscles tensed. She salivated as every zymogen granule flooded with enzymes. With his black hair clipped short to reveal a very male neck that was supported by cords of muscle, her gaze skimmed from his bold nose to his lush mouth to his dazzling cheekbones. But it was his compelling violet eyes, the color of precious nebula flame gemstones, that sought her out with male interest and which almost did in her rioting nerves.

  Only his focused expression stopped her inclination to move closer. He wasn’t gloating with the usual male I-know-you-can’t- resist-me arrogance. He actually appeared to be trying not to alarm her. Although he held still, he dominated the air around her, saturating her oxygen with his masculinity. “I am Xander from Mystique.”

  Despite the Boktai, her blood ran cold.

  “You’re a Rystani warrior,” she accused him. The Rystani people, his people, had given the Terrans the intel that had led to the death of her parents. The war between Rystan and Endeki hadn’t been over for very long, and she’d forgotten none of the pain of losing her mother.

  Surely he must hate all Endekians, too. Though many Rystani had emigrated to the newly discovered planet Mystique, her people still ruled his homeworld. Peace between the Endekians and Rystani remained uneasy, simmering with decades of distrust and hatred. Xander shouldn’t be here. Rystani warriors, or any of their citizens, faced mortal danger on Endeki and visited only in official, well-guarded situations.

  She stared at him, unable to move away. His presence injected the situation with danger, heightening her reactions in ways she could not control. Her stomach fluttered with excitement, and her hands began to shake. Images of this bronze-fleshed Rystani warrior making love consumed her. Xander’s hands in her hair, on her breasts. His body pressed against her aching flesh. Alara took little satisfaction that she’d managed not to reach out to touch him. How could she when she was so quickly losing control?

  He spoke as if he had no inkling of what his presence was doing to her. “My purpose here is urgent. We need to talk.”

  His tone was calm, his eyes direct. Despite the clamoring-for- attention thrill that she couldn’t subdue, she shivered under his intense expression.

  She couldn’t imagine this Rystani warrior had any use for Endekians. Her people had appropriated his world fourteen Federation years ago, and the rightness of their actions, the political reasons for war, had no bearing on the suffering they’d caused. Many Rystani had died in the invasion, as had countless Endekian males. Her own brother had not come back, a casualty of her government’s need to invade and destroy. Rystani were the enemy. Now, here she was, confined with a Rystani warrior, a man her brother had set off to annihilate. A man whose people were responsible for her parents’ deaths. Just his presence reminded her of the pain. The agony. She wanted him to go, but perhaps the best way to rid herself of his presence was to hear him out.

  She turned off the flitter, opened the door, and exited her vehicle, hoping the fresh air would blow away his scent. But of course the wind currents didn’t cooperate. When Xander unfolded his big frame from the vehicle, he was much larger than she’d imagined. Inside the flitter, she’d only viewed his upper half, but his wonderfully flat stomach, sexy narrow hips, and long legs made him more intimidating, more domineering, more deliciously male.

  If the battle for his world had come down to hand-to-hand fighting, if all the Rystani men were this large, his people would never have lost. But they had, thanks to the superior technology of her world.

  Too bad there was nothing superior about her situation right now. She wanted to listen, so he would quickly depart, but the effects of the Boktai nearly drove her mad.

  Barely restraining a curse of frustration, she deepened her voice to compensate for the breathy teasing tone her physiology demanded. “So why are you here?”

  “I need your help.” He spoke simply, appealing to her curiosity.

  Yet her mind was losing the battle for control ,and the only way she wanted to help was to find a private place where she could entice him to ease her suffering.

  She shifted her stance. “What kind of help?”

  He shot her another one of his charming grins. “Could we go somewhere more—”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.” No matter how perfect his smile, no matter how strong her hormones, no matter how badly her cells wept for satiation, she could not have sex with an offworlder. She was already at odds with her government. Taking a Rystani into her bed might be seen as a traitorous act.

  He chuckled, his tone so warm and inviting that she barely restrained a gasp of delight. As her imagination conjured up sexual fantasies, she forced herself to listen while she tried not to stare at his full mouth, tried not to wonder how his lips, skimming past her earlobe, over her nape and shoulder, would feel.

  He leaned forward onto the balls of his feet, his eyes locking on hers. “Is it true that you need merely look at a person to read his DNA?”

  She shrugged and folded her arms beneath her aching breasts, hoping the light was too dim for him to see her hardening nipples. Why was he interested in her peculiar ability, one she found useful, although her skill mattered little to the nonscientific community? “My ability’s common knowledge on my world. How do you know about it?”

  He ignored her question. “It is said you can spot a flaw in the double helix chain at thirty paces.”

  She’d be willing to bet her last batch of test samples that Xander had never seen the inside of a lab, never mind looked through a microscope. He appeared to have spent his entire life outdoors, exercising and eating and growing muscles over his well-shaped bones.

  “Why are you curious about my work?” she asked.

  “I have no interest in your work,” he replied, a keen intelligence in his eyes, a glimmer of humor in their depths, even as his voice carried overtones of intensity and power. “My interest is . . . in you.”

  Bloody stars. Endekian men didn’t speak with such directness. Then again, they didn’t have to. They simply waited for a woman to choose and took their pleasure. Conversation was rarely part of the arrangement.

  Alara found his bold declaration of interest in her odd, yet exhilarating. Reminding herself that her brain couldn’t possibly be functioning on all neurons, she eyed the big warrior with renewed caution. “What do you want?”

  “You must accompany me on a mission.” Despite his demand, he softened his tone to a tempting and compelling coaxing that increased her interest.

  She was not about to give up her work, or leave her friends and her home, but she’d satisfy her curiosity before she sent him on his way. “What mission?”

  He shot her an engaging, come-with-me glance t
hat promised excitement. “I am seeking the Perceptive Ones.”

  Despite his charisma, she snorted. “The Perceptive Ones haven’t inhabited this galaxy in eons, if ever. They are a myth.”

  “Perhaps not.” His lips curled into an adventurous grin that revealed he didn’t take insult at her words.

  “No one is certain they ever existed, never mind that they still live. You have no more hope of finding the Perceptive Ones than bacteria have of understanding its origins.”

  “Have you no faith, Doctor?” He gestured to her body, causing a ripple of gooseflesh her suit barely contained. “You wear a suit that was manufactured by machines the Perceptive Ones left behind.” His voice turned earnest and eager, and she suspected he was younger than she’d first thought. “The Perceptive Ones existed, of that I’m sure. According to ancient records recently discovered on our starship’s journey across the galaxy, out near the rim is a system named Lapau, colonized by a humanoid race called the Lapautee.”

  “I’ve never heard of them.”

  “Not much is known about the Lapautee.” Xander’s eyes danced with the call of adventure—a sparkle she’d seen once in the eyes of her brother before he’d gone off to war. “However, legend suggests their planet may be an outpost for a protector, a Perceptive One. I’m hoping that since their machines lasted through the millennia, perhaps they did, as well.”

  She didn’t know if he was insane or on a grand quest. Either way, she couldn’t help him. “I’m sorry. I must decline. I have my own work.”

  “This mission is of grave importance.”

  “And my work is not?” She arched a brow, daring him to insult her research because she was female and her purpose inconsequential to him. That is, if he’d cared to learn anything about her research at all.

  But he didn’t insult her. He paused. Thought. Considered. Her respect for him escalated. Clearly he believed in his mission, and she admired anyone who had that kind of dedication to their work.

  “My mission to find the Perceptive Ones is necessary to saving the lives of billions.” His every word vibrated with fervor.

  She narrowed her brows, unswayed by his earnestness since she felt the same passion for her own research. “Then I wish good fortune to be on your side.” She turned away to dismiss him.

  He clamped a hand on her shoulder, and electricity shot straight to her core. She restrained a gasp at the unexpected pleasure. The Rystani warrior’s hand was gentle, strong, and warm—warm enough to fire her flesh.

  Ruthlessly, she clenched her jaw and tamped down on her need. “Let go of me.”

  He didn’t remove his hand. His voice hardened. “You will at least do me the courtesy of hearing me out.”

  As if she had a choice with his big hand on her? She forced herself to shrug it off, and no doubt sensing she would listen, he allowed her to free herself. He couldn’t know that his touch had set off a storm of need so great that her ears roared. He was speaking, but at first she couldn’t think beyond the rushing sensation that threatened her composure. But finally she regrouped.

  “The Perceptive Ones are believed to have been responsible for seeding life in our galaxy with DNA.”

  “That legend likely has no more substance than the propaganda offered by our esteemed leader, Drik.” She took deep breaths, and as her chest rose and fell, she gave him credit—his gaze didn’t once drop below her neck.

  “I know little of your leader or your politics. I know only that my mission is to go to Lapau in search of the Perceptive Ones and a pure strain of DNA.”

  “A pure strain? Why not use the alien time machine to go back and retrieve—”

  “The Federation Council won’t permit time travel unless we can prove with absolute certainty that we won’t contaminate Earth’s entire time line.”

  “Earth?”

  The blood drained from her face, leaving her lightheaded. She’d thought he was trying to help his own people, not the despicable race that had killed her father, and ultimately, her beloved mother.

  He continued, obviously unaware of her past, or he would never have sought her help. “Terrans have polluted Earth, and their DNA is irreparably damaged. Soon they will be dying by the millions. To save them, I’m looking for a pure strain of Terran DNA; without it . . . they will all die.”

  He sounded just like a good soldier, all earnest and optimistic—like her brother had been before he’d gone off to war. Groaning, she leaned against the flitter, raised her hands to her pounding temples, trying to think past the sorrow, past the river of passion bubbling through her veins. Just the mention of Terrans had likely activated her fervor. Anger could trigger lust, the strong sentiment setting off signals, one emotion feeding the other.

  “I’m not helping you save cursed Terrans. I hope they all die, and if they do, I’ll dance a celebration to the Goddess.”

  “Why do you hate Terrans?” He actually sounded puzzled.

  She had no problem setting him straight. “Fourteen years ago, the Terrans, bloodthirsty with their new power as Federation members and with intel from Rystan, launched the bomb that hit this very city. I lost my parents, my friends, and coworkers. Terrans destroyed my life. They are savages, primitive and cruel. I won’t so much as examine a bacterium to save a single one of them.”

  “Not all Rystani and Terrans are warlike—”

  “You don’t need me,” she argued. “Any scientist with a microscope can do what I do.”

  He shook his head. “We may not have the opportunity to examine each species in a laboratory. You can walk on their worlds and merely look—”

  “That is where you are wrong. Even if I wanted to help, and make no mistake, I don’t, Endekian females are not permitted to leave our homeworld. Ever.”

  As if the law had been made to prevent him from carrying out his mission, a muscle jumped in his neck, a grimace tightened his lips. “Why not?”

  She would not reveal her shame. She refused to tell him that their men didn’t want their women to approach offworlders for life-giving sex. Selfish to the core, their men kept that pleasure for themselves. Still, she didn’t lie, either. “It’s the law.”

  Anger flickered in his eyes, and whether it was for her inability to leave her homeworld or frustration that she couldn’t accompany him, she couldn’t discern. But all that male heat spiked her hormones another notch, flaying her with endorphins.

  Krek. Forget the scientific explanations. She was ready to pounce. On him.

  She had to get away before she did something really stupid, like leaning into his chest, wrapping her hands around his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers, and finding out if the Rystani tasted as good as he looked.

  Reminding herself he was a stranger, a Rystani warrior and forbidden to her, reminding herself that contact with him would ruin everything she’d dedicated her life to, would only keep her restrained for so long. Starving cells demanded regeneration. She needed sex so badly she shook.

  And damn him, she needed him to be out of sight so her gaze couldn’t dwell on what he concealed beneath his plain black suit, which was molded to his frame with a precision that seared the image into her brain, branding her with flaming heat. Moisture beaded on her upper lip and seeped between her thighs.

  But she would not yield to her need.

  She couldn’t have an offworlder—especially one who was a friend to Terrans.

  She wouldn’t succumb.

  She’d remain strong.

  Opening the flitter door, she eased inside, sensing he would not break the law to pursue her. Yet, even as she escaped, his last words rang in her ears like a whispered promise. “Laws can be changed. We are not done, you and I.”

  2

  XANDER HEADED BACK to the shuttle he’d set down at the city landing center, a barren area of pavement, landing lights, an
d gray boxy structures that made him appreciate the greenery at home on Mystique. No one stopped him. Although he was deep in thought, his warrior instincts noted that the citizens kept their distance, often crossing to the other side of the rolling pavement to avoid him.

  If the Endekians had known their race was responsible for the death of Xander’s mother, they might have not just crossed the street to feel safe—but have fled across the city. He’d buried his resentment and pain deep in his heart. Not only had Endekians invaded his world, captured and tortured him, they’d killed his mother.

  Xander and his father, Mogul, had returned from the hunt to find his mother’s lifeless body lying across the threshold, an Endekian knife in her throat. The other women in the village had fared no better. All had been slaughtered, and it was a sight he’d never forgotten. His father’s tears. Xander’s pain at losing his mother at the age of seven still sliced deep. He could no longer recall her face, but he remembered the love in his household. Even when she had to go without, his mother had always saved food for him and a smile of welcome for his father. But it was her stories Xander missed most, and his favorite recollections were memories of sitting on her lap in front of a hot glow stone while she’d read to him about other beings and faraway worlds. He could thank her for his interest in exploration, one he’d never lost even after the tragedy or his subsequent relocation to Mystique.

  The Endekians should fear him, but Alara hadn’t seemed the least bit frightened. His size hadn’t appeared to faze her, either. In fact, her stare had been so direct he’d had to avoid shifting from foot to foot to reveal his attraction. No Rystani female would have been so bold. However, Xander had lived on Mystique with many races and understood that her behavior likely had been acceptable for an Endekian. Though he now realized that what she’d said was true—in all his travels, he’d never met an Endekian woman. As captain of a diverse crew, he tried to keep an open mind about etiquette and to respect different cultures, but even his fair-minded nature was taxed by this race. They’d killed and maimed and raped. They’d destroyed the family and world he’d loved so deeply—and might have murdered him too if not for Tessa, the Terran who had saved his life.