Parallel Heat

by Deidre Knight

  ‘‘It’s me who can’t ever deny you, sweet queen.’’

  Then, as the king had indeed decreed, they took to their bed for many long, lusty hours. During that time something foreign fanned across their naked bodies: Subtle, barely noticeable, that thing wooed them. It lured them closer, yet remained concealed beneath the surface of their bond. In fact, they never knew it had entered the chamber, so stealthy was it.

  Yes, their blood fever waited, simmered slowly, whispered their names like a creature of mischief, until the perfect moment when it would explode full-force upon their mated bodies.

  Marco and Thea fell into exhausted slumber, tangled together like a serpentine wtlsi sculpture—arms, legs, bodies twined as one. And soon enough after that, they woke, staring at each other in wondrous silence. There were no words; just long, slow caresses, their only form of communication.

  Without speaking, Marco drew Thea up onto her knees so that they faced each other in the center of the bed. As they’d done during their near-mating, they placed palm against palm, allowing energy to radiate back and forth, quickly building to a pulsating climax. Thea’s body tensed as she felt Marco’s power encircle her, intoxicating her, arousing her. Sliding one palm down the front of her chest, he caressed first one nipple, then the other with a strange kind of innocence; as if they’d never touched each other before that very moment. As if they hadn’t already lost their virginity together.

  He’s seeing me through new eyes, she thought in amazement. Because we’ve both changed. Because we’re nearly soulmated!

  That’s true, came his throaty, sure voice right in her soul’s marrow. I kept thinking I was going to change you, and look what you’ve done to me! You’re my princess.

  A princess; a royal wedding; mating rites. Thea gaped at Marco in wonder, her fingertips stilling against his bare chest. How did I overlook something so symbolic and important on our wedding night? With a quick glance at the sheer drapes that billowed from the canopy, she fingered a bit of the silky fabric, unfurling it between them. It wafted over her body, cool and sensual in its texture, creating a veil of separation—hiding her from her mate while also enhancing every detail of her bare body.

  Thea, what are you doing? he asked gruffly, reaching to push the thin material out of the way, but she stopped his hand.

  This is royal tradition, Marco. On the wedding night, the bride is covered completely, hidden from her husband like a mystery . . . until they soul-mate.

  ‘‘Then what happens?’’ he snarled, his impatience undeniable.

  Lifting up onto her knees, she pressed her lips against his, the diaphanous material brushing between both their mouths. ‘‘The prince uncovers her.’’

  To Thea, it had always been a beautiful metaphor for the sealing of souls.

  ‘‘We’re not on Refaria,’’ he argued, his voice edged with threat. ‘‘And it’s not our wedding night now.’’

  ‘‘But we aren’t yet soulmated,’’ she reminded him, her soft exhalations causing the veil to billow with each breath.

  Bunching the material in his fist, Marco moaned his impatience. ‘‘I want to see you, baby!’’

  ‘‘Trust me.’’

  With his fingertips he rubbed the silken material across her abdomen, sliding it downward between her legs. Back and forth he used it to pleasure her, massaging it against her most intimate place until the fabric dampened with her arousal. Glimpsed through the veil Marco was a shadowy image of darkness and power, of ruggedness and majesty. She wrestled against her own impatience, clamping down on it almost violently.

  She edged forward onto his lap, planting herself astride him, then stroked the veil against his sandpapery cheek, letting him feel its erotic coolness. Their faces pressed together again, and their heavy breaths caused the material to billow back and forth between them.

  Lifting the bottom portion of the fabric, Thea took hold of Marco’s erection with her free hand, sliding atop his jutting length. She was wetter than last night, burning for him, wound tight. So ready for him, so urgent.

  ‘‘Take this off,’’ he begged, clutching at the veil.

  ‘‘Not yet.’’ She panted. ‘‘Not quite yet.’’

  ‘‘Damn it, Thea!’’ He groaned, wrapping his arms about her waist. ‘‘I want you now!’’

  ‘‘It-it’s arousing us.’’

  ‘‘I know that, b-but, I-I,’’ he sputtered, but she cut him off by driving herself onto his rigid cock. His erection filled her completely, driving up inside of her hard. She gasped, steadying herself by clutching his shoulders, barely able to see him through the thin membrane that separated the rest of their bodies. Clasping her hips, Marco teased her into a frantic motion, up and down against his body; not like the virgin he’d been just hours ago, but as if he’d spent many nights in her arms and bed.

  Within moments she felt his soul; sensed it as soon as it made explosive contact with hers. Last night they’d stopped—not this time.

  Throwing her head back, she cried out her pleasure; his soul was gorgeous—a shimmering palette of more colors than she could identify. Closing her eyes, she lost herself in him, body and soul. No stopping, no stopping, she whispered within their bond.

  Never again, he pledged, their frantic pace intensifying. Then, without hesitation, they coupled souls, fire dissolving into shards of color right between them. She felt the moment it happened, as if Marco himself lodged suddenly within her chest; as if she burrowed right into his core.

  And at that precise moment, Thea ripped the veil away, crushing her mouth against his right as he came inside her, her hips thrashing wildly, a growling moan exploding from within his chest.

  ‘‘I can’t—breathe,’’ she barely managed to squeeze out, and he pinned her against his muscled, heaving chest.

  ‘‘Hold on,’’ he urged thickly. ‘‘Hold me.’’ He was trembling against her with a ferocious intensity.

  ‘‘I’m here, I’m here,’’ she promised him, feeling his heat sizzle to life. His body now sated, his D’Aravnian self was about to demand its own due. ‘‘Don’t be afraid.’’

  ‘‘I-I am . . . not.’’ His arms tightened about her, the shaking growing more pronounced. ‘‘In . . . awe. Mates.’’

  Thea smiled, realizing his communication was Changing first, becoming primitive and basic. It’s moments now, breaths away . . .

  Then, burrowing his face against the top of her head, a sweeping wave of electric current sizzled between them, becoming power itself as they Changed together, still clinging desperately to each other’s bodies.

  Marco spun, whirling in lust and maddening need. Need mate! Need finish. Mate! Thea!

  Here! She spiraled toward him, expressing her pure, unadulterated joy. Mate, yes!

  He sensed her more than saw her, though his Change was an explosion of sensation on every level. Nothing in his nearly thirty years had prepared him for this pure moment of oneness with his lifemate. Their souls twined together, pulsating, as her fire crested into his, joining. Sealing. Seamless. Glorious.

  One. Always one. Only one.

  One.

  Afterward they lay flat on their backs in the middle of the floor, neither possessing the strength to so much as flex a muscle. Marco gazed at the pine-beamed ceiling, blinking occasionally, feeling radiant and reborn. They held hands, struggled to normalize their breathing and said . . . nothing. Words weren’t necessary; they’d already communicated everything during the lovemaking and the Change-making. That’s what Thea had called that kind of twining of their core bodies.

  At last, he needed to kiss her. Such a simple thing, really, but hell, it was what he wanted. Forcing himself to roll sideways, an effort to that required almost Herculean strength, he got his first look at his wife since they’d reassumed their physical bodies.

  ‘‘Thea,’’ he told her with a smug grin, ‘‘you’re glowing.’’

  A dreamy, kittenlike sound came from her lips. ‘‘I know.’’

  ‘‘I mea
n, really glowing.’’ He propped his head on one elbow, loving the outward sign his bride wore of their mating.

  She rotated her head sideways, her clear blue eyes widening. ‘‘Oh, gods! You are too!’’

  He glanced at his chest and wasn’t surprised to see that an orange-gold sheen bathed it completely. ‘‘Guess that’s what happens when we make love, huh?’’

  ‘‘It better not be a regular phenomenon!’’ she exclaimed with a giggle. ‘‘The whole camp will know we’re mating.’’

  Stroking a disheveled curl away from her cheek, he laughed too. ‘‘Yeah, well I think they already know that. Your cries were loud enough to rouse the entire compound.’’

  She gave him an indignant look. ‘‘My cries? Mine? Oh, that’s right, Mr.-hold-on-I’m-a-raging-shtkasa.’’

  ‘‘Is that what I sounded like?’’ He could remember hearing the untamed shtkasa as a child: Their fearsome roars sounding across the palace grounds at night had been the stuff of youthful terrors.

  She rolled to face him. ‘‘You sounded perfect.’’

  ‘‘You were perfect.’’

  ‘‘Were?’’ She cocked a flirtatious eyebrow at him.

  Closing his eyes he drew in a breath, feeling her pure joy in the deepest recesses of his being. In return, he sensed that her newly gained empathy plumbed the depths of his heart. He longed for words but had none, yet, for the first time in all his days, it simply didn’t matter. His wife and mate knew him from the heart that beat within his chest to the cells that comprised his newly discovered D’Aravnian self.

  He was no longer alone, and instead was utterly known. For an empath and Madjin who had walked in solitude all his life, that was the most profound gift of their mating.

  Known. It was a deeply powerful word, and while it was one that might require adjustment, it was also one that had changed him forever.

  ‘‘I know that I love you,’’ she teased him, her clear eyes twinkling.

  ‘‘You heard that.’’ He blushed, feeling shy about being so transparent with her.

  She rolled onto her back, stretching her arms overhead. ‘‘I heard it and I felt it—I feel everything you’re experiencing, Marco. You know that!’’

  In slight alarm, he sat up. ‘‘You’re that empathic? Already?’’ What about the headaches, the sickness? He’d hoped—somehow—that she wouldn’t inherit the full force of his nature.

  ‘‘I feel settled, Marco. It’s beautiful.’’

  ‘‘But . . . what if you get sick? What if it’s too much? I’ve spent a lifetime mastering my empathy.’’ His panic began to mount, nearly unstoppable.

  ‘‘And I inherited that same control. Our gifts are entwined, Marco, completely. I sense it—you sense it, too, if you just feel within our bond. You won’t ever be ill again. And I never will be.’’

  ‘‘But how do you know that?’’

  ‘‘Because in lifemating, there’s completion.’’

  Of course she was right—and he did feel it, deep in his core. ‘‘We’re one,’’ he whispered, their union suddenly vivid in his mind, its full import, the depth of it, startling and clear.

  ‘‘One, yes.’’ She rose to her knees, splaying a palm across his heart. ‘‘And I’m ready to be one all over again,’’ she teased, releasing a playful mating call.

  One. Perfect, fulfilled unity with his wife. Lifemated entirely. It was the ideal way for two empaths to spend the rest of eternity, he thought, scooping her into his ecstatic embrace.

  Marco and Thea stood on a precipice, a particular turn in a path that revealed the valley, covered in new snow, sparkling beneath a sky so blue that Thea was convinced she’d never seen anything like it back on Refaria. These were her favorite moments on Earth. Without words, they shared the thought—that Earth, while not home, possessed moments of indescribable beauty. Marco slipped both arms about her waist, staring over the top of her head at the valley. With a glance toward the sky, its azure blueness a pristine contrast against the snow, he thought it the perfect metaphor for their love.

  ‘‘I never want to leave,’’ he murmured, leaning down to the kiss the top of her head. She tensed against him.

  ‘‘Earth? You don’t miss home?’’

  ‘‘You’re the one who said it—you’re my home.’’

  ‘‘Still, this place is . . .’’ She didn’t finish, growing pensive—he sensed the mood change deep within her.

  ‘‘Is what?’’ he prompted, squinting at the brilliant, sweeping sky overhead.

  She laughed in surprise. ‘‘I was going to say this is a godsforsaken planet, the worst outpost we could have landed on—but then I realized something.’’ Her own gaze turned skyward. ‘‘I don’t hate Earth anymore. In fact, I think I’ve refused to see how beautiful it is for a long time.’’

  ‘‘I’ve never hated Earth,’’ he told her. ‘‘I grew up here, you know. I hardly remember Refaria. I feel this place, in my soul, my bones.’’

  ‘‘I hated it because we were forced here.’’

  ‘‘And now?’’

  ‘‘It seems different today—I’m different today, thanks to you. Everything feels much more important, including protecting this world.’’

  ‘‘Maybe you don’t resent Earth anymore because you don’t want Jared anymore,’’ he suggested.

  She adjusted herself within his arms, turning until she stared up into his eyes, her own blue gaze nearly matching the vivid color of the sky. ‘‘Are you still upset about what I told you?’’

  ‘‘About Jared?’’ She gave a quick nod, and he threw his head back and laughed. ‘‘How could I be when I’m the one who has you?’’

  She brushed her fingertips over his lips, her expression growing troubled. ‘‘He does need to know, Marco. When you’re ready.’’

  ‘‘Never, baby.’’

  ‘‘I’m just saying . . . family is so important—’’

  ‘‘A Madjin warrior has a unique, intimate role with those he protects. That is all Jared ever need know.’’

  ‘‘It’s your choice,’’ she agreed, ‘‘but something tells me that it would be a mistake to keep the truth from him.’’

  Her words called a prickle of awareness into his heart, but he brushed the feeling aside, instead focusing on their utter happiness. Their moment shouldn’t be stolen by the power of secrets and past lies.

  Still, even as they kissed there on the mountain, their tongues plunging into the heat of one another’s mouths, their bodies flexing insatiably, something dark propelled itself onto that mountain. Something they neither heeded, nor noticed, so lost were they in their shared moment of love.

  Far from the mountain, too, a stranger stepped onto the wild Wyoming land. A man who was never meant to enter their world, anymore than secrets were meant not to be told. He surveyed the landscape, his eyes measuring the same clear blue sky, the same hoary terrain.

  And the stranger calculated the precise distance from where he stood to their very mountain.