The main cafeteria at Base Eight buzzed with soldiers and activity; Thea took her seat at a long table, choosing to dine alone. Usually she ate lunch in the main cabin, but she’d hoped to avoid Marco this way. The last thing she wanted was to spend a whole meal staring into the man’s beautiful, sexy eyes. But her dining choice wasn’t proving to be as peaceful as she’d hoped: Too many of her soldiers kept glancing her way, questions reflected in their Refarian eyes.
The rumors had been flying since Scott Dillon’s capture—this despite Jared addressing the troops last night. But since then they’d learned who had Scott, the US Air Force, and although they’d suspected as much, their latest intel hadn’t been put out to the troops just yet. So speculations were running rampant, which meant the ranks were looking to her for answers. She buried her nose in a strategy plan and refused to look up.
‘‘Why would a beautiful soldier like you be dining alone?’’ Marco asked from behind her.
Marco, you’re the last person I need right now, she thought with a groan as he swung one long, lean leg over the bench to take a seat beside her. He slid his tray onto the table, assuming a very close seat on her right side.
‘‘I thought we reached an agreement last night.’’ She didn’t turn to face him, but instead focused on the strategy manual in her left hand.
When he spoke again, his voice was less cocky and flirtatious, gentle even. ‘‘I wanted to apologize,’’ he said softly. ‘‘If you’d let me.’’
‘‘No need to dine by my side to do that.’’
‘‘Would you please look at me?’’ he implored, reaching beneath the table to touch her hand. ‘‘Thea, please.’’
Slowly, she turned on the bench until she found herself staring into those arresting, languid eyes of his. Eyes that spoke of sex and fantasy and thousands of other things he always made her desire. Things he’d made it clear she could never have.
He was beneath her, bed frame creaking with their thrusts and gyrations. His large, dark hands gripping her by the waist; those same sultry eyes drifting to half-mast . . .
She closed her eyes, gave her head a slight shake, and forced herself to focus. ‘‘. . . whatever this is,’’ he was saying, ‘‘it seems to be a force beyond us both.’’
Training her eyes on him again, she gave a half nod. For the first time she noticed what silky, thick eyebrows he had. Not like he was some sort of wild gnantsa from the jungles—that kind of bushy eyebrows never turned her on in a man—but his were dramatic eyebrows, arcing with a wide grace. She had the unshakeable urge to lift her fingertip and slowly outline the left one, just tracing it from side to side.
‘‘It’s a force all right,’’ she agreed, forcing herself to look into his eyes, not at his elemental beauty.
‘‘And I’m not sure it was a particularly good thing, what happened in the mitres, Thea,’’ he continued, reaching for a bottle of water and tilting it back for a chug. A rivulet of the liquid spilled onto his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. She had a flashing desire to reach up and lick it away with the tip of her tongue, tasting him as he had already tasted her skin. With a quick sniff, she stole a bit of his scent. The earthy, tangy smell of it caused gooseflesh to form all over her body.
He leaned back a bit, his eyes narrowing and that damnable sideways smile spread across his face, forcing his single dimple to pop into view. He knew! He’d caught her scenting him, which only proved what a farce this whole ‘‘controlling the force of nature that’s compelling us together’’ thing was all about!
‘‘Was it nice?’’ he teased her, the smile widening.
‘‘My lunch?’’ she deflected, facing forward again to avoid him altogether. ‘‘Delicious. Commander Bennett always feeds us well.’’
‘‘My scent, Thea.’’
Her face flushed violently, her jaw tensed, but she made no reply. For his part, Marco bent close, pretending to examine the strategy journal she held before her; he lifted it from her hand—any observer would have interpreted the maneuver that way—but managed to dip his face much closer to hers. Close enough to catch her own scent.
‘‘Yours certainly is,’’ he pronounced, releasing a slow, powerful exhalation of breath against her cheek. ‘‘Wildflowers.’’ He sighed again. ‘‘You’ve given me a massive hard-on.’’
She slammed both hands on the table. ‘‘You are being totally unfair,’’ she said, thankful for the din of Refarian voices filling the cafeteria. ‘‘You sat down, claiming you wanted to apologize—and then, next thing I know, you’re talking about your ever-loving strka!
“You’re the one who scented me,’’ he reminded her with a light laugh.
‘‘That doesn’t matter,’’ she protested, though admittedly he had her there. She had gotten this particular session rolling herself. She swung one leg over the bench so that she faced him fully. ‘‘Look, I’m onto your game, Marco. You’re all about ‘Come close, I’ll push you away’,’’ she said. ‘‘Or it’s ‘Stay away and I’ll keep coming after you until you let me get close.’”
A deep scowl furrowed his eyebrows. ‘‘Am I really that bad?’’
‘‘You are! And I can’t live this way, so please’’—she extended her hands in a pleading gesture—‘‘just stay away. Keep your distance, and leave out the part where you keep trying to get closer. That’s the only way I can handle being near you—since I’m stuck with you. Unless you can send another hellishly handsome Madjin to take your place.’’
‘‘No,’’ he said with a grudging smile, ‘‘I’m it. You’re stuck, like you say.’’
‘‘Then just keep away from me—and take all your damnable memories with you too. I don’t want them plaguing my mind another minute.’’
‘‘Thea, I have nothing to do with what you keep seeing,’’ he told her as she rose to walk away. His eyes tracked with her, locked on her intently. ‘‘I may be intuitive, but I can’t make anyone see things.’’
She shook her head, reaching for her tray. ‘‘I’m not an imbecile,’’ she told him hotly. ‘‘I do realize you’re not causing them, but I wish they’d stop. They’re making my heart hurt and my body fevered while you—apparently—have no intention of acting upon them.’’
‘‘Sit down, Thea,’’ Marco half begged, staring up into her eyes. He’d waited hours for this chance, had followed her down from the main cabin in hopes of just a moment of time alone with her. And he had intended to apologize, that much was true, but his motives had also been far more complex: He’d needed to be with her. Ever since their kiss on the trail, it seemed that things inside his heart had intensified multifold, always leading back to her innocent question: Why can’t this just be something . . . casual?
Thea’s jaw tensed as she clearly deliberated about sitting down again. He reached for her forearm, urging her downward onto the bench. He had to tell her the truth. If she didn’t know now, he might never find the courage again. ‘‘Only for a moment,’’ he promised. ‘‘You won’t have to tolerate me for longer than that.’’
Her shoulders slumped in frustrated surrender and she dropped her tray back onto the table, slowly sinking onto the seat. ‘‘All right,’’ she told him, her jaw flexing angrily. ‘‘I’m listening, McKinley.’’
Gathering his thoughts, he tried to center the swirling emotions battling for dominance inside of him. The memories of her were coming so fast and hard now, it was becoming increasingly difficult not to simply fall in love with her. For he had loved her, in that other time. Maybe he’d never fully admitted it to himself, but it had at least come close to love. Carefully, he reached for her hand where she braced it on the wooden bench frame, covering it with his—his movements as circumspect and cautious as if he were approaching a skittish mare.
‘‘I need to tell you something, Thea. Something I wanted to tell you the other night on the trail—and didn’t.’’
She nodded, her blond eyebrows knitting together seriously.
‘‘You as
ked why we couldn’t just get together and have something’’—he hesitated over her word choice because it still hurt him—‘‘casual. That was the word you used.’’
‘‘It was a good question.’’ She wriggled her hand out from underneath his. ‘‘You seem so convinced that we’re doomed, that all the bad images from the other time are true—and equally convinced that we’d go so far as to bond.’’
‘‘Thea, don’t you understand?’’ He bent down until his nose was within an inch of hers. His whole body burned, wildfire darting over his skin, across his senses. He gulped for air, attempting vainly to steady his heart. ‘‘Don’t you get it? Nothing with you could ever be . . . casual for me. Casual?’’ He shook his head, laughing bitterly. ‘‘Every time I hold you, every time I taste of you—or catch your scent—you have the power of the universe over me. And that’s not casual, Thea,’’ he hissed. ‘‘Not for someone like me.’’
She gaped at him, her clear, mysterious blue eyes widening. Slowly, she lifted her fingertips to her lips, touching them as if he’d just brushed a kiss across them.
He continued, ‘‘So you see, that’s why I keep pushing you away. ’Cause it’s the only thing I know to do. My vows exist—they’re the only real thing I’ve ever known—and I’m here to serve our king and queen. Could we have a secret affair? Maybe. Maybe if I were capable of holding back with you.’’ He stood, gazing down at her for one long, naked moment. ‘‘But I can’t hold back, and if we so much as contemplate truly making love, I’ll be utterly soulbound to you in a heartbeat. And I can’t do that to either one of us.’’
Then, he did the hardest thing—but the only thing—he could possibly do. He turned and walked away.
Hope Harper walked across the tarmac of Warren Air Force Base. The forceful wind of fighter jets taking off caused her scarf to fly up into her face, which only made seeing all the more difficult. In bright daylight such as this morning, she could make out blurry images overlain by dark floaters. Spots basically, all the way around, but usually better if it were a bright, sunny day such as this one. That was how she still managed to snowboard on the baby slopes. So she was thankful that arriving on base today she could rely on the morning light to orient her somewhat; it took some of the edge off of stepping into such an unknown situation.
Her supervisor, Robbie Chambers, took hold of her arm, urging her along toward what looked to be an entrance. The thing with the fully sighted was that they never realized you didn’t want to be tugged—you simply wanted to hold on. Thank God she wasn’t completely blind yet, just legally so, and she let him pull her inside the building.
With a series of turns and welcomes from shadowed military personnel (the greenish overhead light made it much tougher for her to make out their forms), she quickly found herself filing down a long hallway, hearing the distant sounds of shoes clicking on concrete flooring. ‘‘Harper, we’re counting on you to make some headway here.’’
She’d been briefed about the details by the special agent in charge back in Denver, and now her months of work on the Refarian language would finally be put to the test. In the two days since capturing the man they knew as Scott Dillon, they’d been unable to get a single answer out of him. She knew he spoke English; she’d heard him on the intercepts. And the other thing she now knew—since she’d been briefed into this higher clearance, even higher than her regular top secret clearance—was that in all likelihood her suspicions had been correct.
They continued to rely on their flimsy cover story about Dillon belonging to an obscure political cell in eastern Europe: That’s how compartmentalized information worked. Very few people had the full picture, and they would only put small pieces in various individuals’ hands. For her part, they needed her language expertise, nothing more. But that didn’t alter what her training and common sense told her: Scott Dillon belonged to an alien race, one that directly threatened the security and safety of the United States. Possibly Planet Earth.
‘‘Any word on Lieutenant Dillon’s release?’’ Jared asked his chief security officer, Lieutenant Nevin Daniels, who was sitting with him on the other side of the meeting room table. The man shook his head, his expression grave.
For three days now they’d been stumped; they now knew where Scott was being held—at Warren Air Force Base—where the US military had kept him for the past almost seventy-two hours. Jared felt nauseated at the thought of his best friend being interrogated, possibly tortured. Humans, he thought with a weary sigh, a people with such capacity for beauty, but also capable of such hateful vengeance.
‘‘Keep the base under surveillance—but be careful. We want to track any movement they might make with the lieutenant, but we don’t want to risk losing anyone else.’’
‘‘They might try to transfer him to another facility,’’ the other man suggested. ‘‘What then?’’
Jared leaned back in his chair and thought about the many engagements they’d had with the Air Force over the years—most recently, he himself had been shot down by a pilot from Warren. Of course the humans believed them their enemies; after all, the USAF pilots came under constant fire from the Antousians, and how could they possibly discern the difference between Refarians and Antousians? Aliens were all perceived as security threats, no matter which species they belonged to. Never mind how many of Jared’s people had been killed by the Antousians since their arrival here on Earth six years ago. And never mind that he and the Refarians were here to protect Earth. None of the human governments ever seemed to understand such subtleties.
‘‘I wonder what Dillon has told them,’’ Jared reflected aloud. ‘‘Perhaps he could arrange a summit; they might be willing to meet with us to discuss military matters and practical solutions.’’
Nevin leaned forward in his chair, his demeanor intense and serious. ‘‘My lord, I think the time for talking is long past—surely you’d agree.’’
Jared stared at the wintry landscape beyond the window. ‘‘Perhaps,’’ he said thoughtfully. ‘‘Or perhaps the time has come at last.’’
‘‘What of our other matter?’’ the man asked him. ‘‘Your wife?’’
Jared’s gaze shifted back to focus on his lieutenant. ‘‘I assume you’re speaking of the mitres data?’’ He didn’t like his officer calling Kelsey ‘‘our other matter.’’ It indicated the overall suspicion that he sensed among so many of his soldiers toward his new wife.
‘‘Sir, we’ve obviously been ineffective so far in retrieving the codes. Surely even you must be concerned by now.’’
‘‘Concerned? Surely even I must be concerned?’’ Jared felt hot anger boil within himself—even, for a moment, felt the compulsion to Change. It was always there, and provocations such as this one only baited it. ‘‘Yes, Lieutenant, I am concerned about my wife and about the safety of my people!’’ he roared, the furnace of his core self stoking hotter. ‘‘You should be concerned about your queen.’’
His officer clearly caught his tone and, visibly chastened, bowed his head. ‘‘I mean no disrespect, sir. I’m merely registering my extreme concern about this security matter.’’
‘‘We have tried numerous methods, so far none successful, in retrieving the mitres data.’’
‘‘What I’m suggesting, sir, is that it’s time for new measures. Time to think of what we haven’t tried.’’
Jared recalled Marco’s offer the night before, his suggestion that he could train them both to use their intuition. He’d acquiesced at the time because he believed Marco was correct; he himself had planted the data within Kelsey, and despite all his previous objections, he was now the one to finally extract it.
Without another word, Jared rose from the table, determined to find his Madjin.
Chapter Sixteen
Kelsey and Jared sat on their living room floor facing one another. Marco knelt beside them both, his large hands resting on their shoulders.
‘‘Close your eyes and take deep breaths,’’ he coached in his sure voice. ‘
‘It will begin with your establishing a connection between the two of you.’’
Kelsey glanced at Jared, who smiled at her almost a bit shyly. She knew exactly what he was thinking at that moment, because it was her own thought—did Marco have any idea how powerful their connection could be at times? During the short time of their bonding, it had been magnifying exponentially. Last night, she’d felt him enter her dreams.
‘‘Okay,’’ Jared answered, and Kelsey felt him open their bond; wild heat began welling within her. Quickly, she connected with him, without any of their usual seductive dancing. This was all about accomplishing something via their connection.
Kelsey, sweetheart, Jared said softly, the minute the flow opened. Don’t be scared, he soothed her.
I’m not.
Yes, you are . . . I can feel it. Don’t be. I’m right here, he promised.
I want all of you, Jared . . . all of myself, too. And if this helps you get the data back, I’m willing. I’m willing to do anything for you—you know that.
I love you, he whispered softly.
Their bonding was interrupted by the sound of Marco clearing his throat with a rumbling cough. Kelsey glanced sideways at him, and was surprised to find him staring at her strangely, his mouth slightly open. She sensed that he knew they’d been communicating silently between themselves. But she could also tell he was studying them, trying to decipher something about how their relationship worked.
‘‘Are you connected?’’ he asked, raising his dark brows in amazement. ‘‘Just like that?’’
Kelsey nodded vigorously. ‘‘Yeah, we’re ready, Marco.’’
‘‘You can do that?’’ Marco pressed, his voice full of undisguised wonder. ‘‘Without even touching?’’
‘‘Well, yeah. Can’t everybody?’’ she asked in surprise, but then quickly rushed to elaborate. ‘‘I mean can’t all . . . bonded mates . . . do that?’’ She felt her face flush very deeply, remembering that bonding for the Refarians was a very sexual experience.
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