Parallel Desire

by Deidre Knight

  He chuckled. "How's this for pop culture, then? Bite me."

  "Wow, I'm impressed."

  "Thought you'd like that one."

  "You're the regular courting type."

  "Oh, I wasn't aware you needed wooing. Let me get back down to it, then." He bent low, kissing the base of her spine, slowly licking and nibbling his way along the notches of her backbone. She squirmed in pleasure beneath him, and when he reached her neck, he brushed her hair to the side.

  Pressing his lips to her nape, he murmured, "You're on my team for the operation, baby, on one condition. No matter what happens, we both come back, and we do a helluva lot more than just this."

  She started to reply, but he bent down, silencing her with a kiss. Three more days of heaven, he thought, and promised himself that she wouldn't get hurt on his watch.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sitting at the dining room table of the main lodge, Kelsey watched as Jared poured her father a drink. Whiskey, single malt, aged to perfection—Jared's favorite, and as it happened, her dad's, too. The only difference was that Patrick took his on the rocks.

  Her father was visibly upset, his naturally freckled face paler than usual, his hands trembling as he took the drink and settled across from her at the table.

  "Here," Jared said, sliding the bottle toward him. "Reinforcements as necessary."

  Patrick smiled at him, and the expression of camaraderie that flashed in his blue eyes warmed her heart. This was what she'd dreamed of, that the two men would find an affinity for each other despite their differences; she only wished it weren't happening under such threatening circumstances.

  "I'll admit that I wouldn't have pegged you for the whiskey type, Bennett," her father laughed, tossing back his drink.

  "Hit you again?" Jared asked, and Patrick nodded, offering his glass. Jared filled it and said, "I'm a great fan of Earth's many fine inventions, whiskey at the top of the list, Glenlivet in particular."

  Both men laughed softly, but then her father's expression grew grim. "I can't believe what I've wandered into the middle of." He lifted his gaze, looking at Kelsey where she sat across the table, poking at a salad that Cook had made her. "How are you feeling, sweetheart? You look a little pale to me."

  She dragged her fork through the greens on her plate, giving him a halfhearted smile. "I'm ready to have the baby, Dad. That's all."

  "You're not eating. You have to keep your strength up, for you and the baby."

  "I have told her as much before," Jared said, and the men exchanged a worried look.

  She laughed. "Geez, isn't one conspiracy enough right now? I don't need you two ganging up on me."

  The truth was that nothing appealed to her stomach anymore, but the medics all insisted that she had to keep forcing sustenance down. They also said that, unlike with human pregnancies, the worst nausea came at the end. Yeah, no kidding, she thought, setting her fork aside.

  Jared scooted his chair closer to hers, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "We both love you, that's all."

  "And it's an alien pregnancy," her father reminded her. As if she could ever forget.

  "Daddy. Jared." She glanced from one to the other with a pointed expression. "I am fine. If you can call throwing up two to three times a day fine. Want more details?" When both men demurred, she laughed. "Yeah, didn't think so. So stop talking about me and this pregnancy, and let's get down to the real order of business."

  Jared smiled at her admiringly. "Spoken like a true queen."

  Patrick blotted at his forehead, then began, "I had lunch with Bob yesterday—Vice President Clarke—as I mentioned on the phone. Overall, everything seemed status quo. He asked about you, Kelsey. Talked about campaign strategies, the like, and he seemed very much like my old friend." He glanced at Jared. "All very normal, and I nearly finished the meal, Bennett, thinking this whole theory of yours was half-cocked and insane."

  "So what happened to change your mind?" Jared's black eyes narrowed shrewdly.

  Patrick hesitated, raked a hand through his hair. He said nothing but reached for the whiskey bottle again.

  "Go on," Jared urged, pouring the drink for Kelsey's father, whose hands had suddenly started trembling much more violently.

  After a very long moment, Patrick lifted his gaze and stared into Jared's eyes significantly. "Kelsey. Bob started asking me about Kelsey … in detail. In very significant detail, almost as though he were grilling me."

  Kelsey's blood ran cold, and she jolted back in the chair. "Oh, my God," was all she could think to say.

  "There's only one reason he'd be asking so many questions about you, sweetheart," her father said, swinging his gaze on her. "And that's because of your enemies' interest in you as the … queen." He said the last word as if it pained him, as if it were an uncomfortable weight that he didn't quite know how to shoulder.

  "I know, I know," she murmured, feeling her stomach drop like a ten-ton freight elevator. "Oh, man."

  "Do they know you've married Jared? I mean, surely they must."

  "They know all about me, according to our intel, Dad."

  Jared cursed, sliding back from the table with such a violent gesture that he knocked the chair over. "Godsdamnit! Anyone but my family. Anyone but you, Kelsey," he raged, hands balled at his sides. "If they're targeting you in some way …" His voice trailed off as he paced the dining area.

  "I stuck with your original story about the research trip."

  Kelsey wrestled to stay calm, training her full attention on her dad—and trying her best to ignore the fact that Jared was working himself up into a furious lather. "And what was his reaction, Daddy?"

  "Questions … and more questions." He buried his head in both hands. "I was so frightened for you, sweetheart. So stunned, I didn't think fast enough. I should have put him on the defensive, but …" He dropped his hands. "You're my baby. Just like you already love Erica, that's how I feel about you. Imagine how much this terrified me. I think it's far more than them wanting to know about where you are. I think they mean you serious harm."

  She rose unsteadily to her feet, easing around the table. "It's okay. This is good information, really good intel for us." She stood behind him, squeezing his shoulders. "And don't worry about me. It's like being locked in NORAD up here. The levels of security surpass anything from the human realm. They've never penetrated the base, not once since Jared and his people arrived almost a decade ago."

  He glanced over his shoulder at her. "But what do we do with this information? How can the FBI proceed? Who do I even take this to? What must our enemies be planning if they've replaced someone at the very highest level of our government?"

  Jared wheeled around, and when Kelsey saw his eyes, they held a vicious expression that she'd never once seen on his face before. She met his black-eyed stare, whispering across their bond. Calm down, Jared. I'm okay. I'm right here and I'm safe.

  He gave his head a slight shake. "If they mean to harm you, I will strike at them with such vengeance, it will make every battle they've ever fought against us look like a holiday. Like a pleasure banquet." Then he reached for the whiskey bottle, sloshed a long shot into a glass, and tossed it back. "If they make a further attempt to harm all of humanity? These people that I love so dearly?" He slammed the empty glass on the table. "I will chase them across the universe to extract payment. So, Patrick Wells, don't worry about your next move. You've done fine. It's the vlksai who need to worry now."

  "Jared, what do you have in mind?" she asked, feeling a roiling wave of nausea overtake her. And it wasn't from the baby; it was that look on Jared's face, the wild menace that had come roaring to life in his eyes. She knew that mated Refarians were insanely protective—she'd seen that much repeatedly in her relationship with Jared thus far. But she'd never heard how one might respond if his mate—especially a pregnant mate—were physically threatened. She had a feeling that this rabid display of fury went beyond a husband's love and protection of his wife; it seemed very much a pa
rt of Jared's alien nature. His face and hands had even begun to glow slightly, as if, quite against his will, he was on the verge of Changing.

  Yeah, her dad would totally know what to make of that. An alien husband was one thing; a glowing ball of fire as her mate was quite another. She had to do something, and fast.

  "I am fine, Jared," she told him, crossing the distance that separated them. "Look at me. Right here." She patted her chest then her belly. "Both of us. We are safe, secure within the compound. They probably just hoped to get a line on where your base is located."

  A low rumbling began at the back of Jared's throat, and she grabbed his hand. Her dad wouldn't know what to make of his Refarian growls either, especially since they were deeply tied to the mating instinct. Jared's eyes drifted shut, and he gave a slight nod, cutting off his growl right as it began.

  "Let's all stay calm here," she told him slowly, squeezing his hand. "Meet with our advisers, then let Daddy head back home. The best thing will be if he doesn't tip his hand with the vice president. That means he needs to be back at his desk tomorrow morning."

  Jared murmured his agreement, but when he opened his eyes, it was as if he were staring right through her. The murderous look on his face sent a chill right down her spine.

  Chris Harper had just put a pillow over his head, hoping for a few hours of shuteye, when a loud, aggressive knock sounded at his door. Leaping to his feet, he hurried to find out what was going on. As an FBI agent, he was more than used to being woken up at all times of the night, and in this case, it wasn't even very late. He was just bone tired.

  He opened the door, and Jared Bennett loomed over him. The alien was a force of nature to begin with, but the glowering expression on his face was enough to have Chris automatically reaching for his sidearm in order to protect himself.

  "I'm going in with you. At the warehouse," Jared announced, his lips drawn into a tight line.

  Something had obviously tripped the guy's wires in a serious way; it didn't take a genius to realize that the king had absolutely no business going on a dangerous op like the one they had planned. And given how adamantly he'd wanted to protect Jake Tierny, something wasn't adding up right.

  "I don't think that's advisable," he said slowly, opening the door. "You're far too visible a target."

  "I'm a shape-shifter, Harper. I can take whatever form I want. And I'm going. Oh, trust me, I am there on Friday night."

  "Don't you think you should come in? So we can discuss this more privately?"

  Jared waved him off. "This whole lodge has top clearance, and I'm not staying to make small talk. I'm on the team, period."

  Chris planted his hands on both hips, staring at the floor as he gathered his thoughts. He sure as hell didn't know the right protocol for standing up to the king of Refaria. Here goes nothing, he thought, clearing his throat.

  "With all due respect, Commander, it's too grave a risk to your safety. You're needed, not just by your own people, but mine as well."

  Jared shoved past him, seething with aggression. Slowly, he pivoted to face Chris once the door to the room was closed.

  "So you're going to tell me what's really going on now?" Chris asked, then for the sake of peacemaking tacked on, "Sir."

  "The vice president has definitely been replaced. Confirmed by Kelsey's father."

  "We already suspected as much."

  "They're asking questions about Kelsey. My wife. All kinds of questions."

  "That doesn't mean they're after her—it's you they want. We've always known that."

  "The questions … are not acceptable to me. This must be stopped. A message must be sent."

  "So why are you the one to do it?"

  "Do you have any idea what I'm capable of? The battles I've fought, the enemies I've scorched just by my very presence?"

  Hope had told him in detail about Jared's D'Aravnian side, although few ever saw it. "I have heard, sir."

  Suddenly, the air around them seemed to separate in half, a scorching blast of heat waving around Bennett's body, and then the alien was no longer there. In his place was what could only be described as a compact sun; the waves of energy were so intense that Chris was knocked back against the door, forced to shield his eyes.

  "I get it, Commander. I concede the point." He gasped.

  The room cooled by quick degrees, but not before the air-conditioning unit clicked into gear. When he dared to drop his forearm away from his eyes, the commander stood before him, his face lined in perspiration.

  "I can take them all," Bennett said coldly. "We just have to find them. That part's your job—now, let me do mine come Friday night."

  Because he really wondered how Bennett would handle breaking this news to the queen, he couldn't resist asking. "You'll tell Kelsey? And she'll support you?"

  The commander headed for the door. "That, Agent Harper, is most decidedly not your problem. I'll take care of things at home. You just work me into your plans."

  Chapter Seventeen

  The music inside the warehouse was little more than a droning, hypnotic beat. Unfortunately, Shelby's tastes ran in an entirely different direction. She kept trying to fall into the techno rhythm, searching for some sort of danceable groove while the throbbing, sweaty crowd pushed her along. So far, no dice—and, so far, no Christina, no Fergie, and sure as heck no Tim McGraw.

  She'd dressed for the rave like she would any scorching-hot date: wraparound black dress and knee-high black boots with stiletto heels, her hair loose and curly, falling below her shoulders. When Jake had first seen her boarding the craft to fly them here to Idaho, his eyes had nearly bugged right out of his head.

  She'd smiled in pleasure, supping into the seat beside him. He'd rushed to harness himself in, clearly trying to hide something with the large buckle. "You look too damned hot for this mission," he'd complained under his breath. "You're going to jeopardize things for me."

  The poor guy—he'd actually sounded like he halfway meant it. In reply, all she'd done was to snuggle closer, giving him a wicked, tempting smile. "Careful with that harness, soldier," she'd teased. "Wouldn't want you to injure yourself. You know, like getting something caught in that buckle?"

  "Don't worry, got it covered."

  "As it were," she added, eyeing his harness pointedly while he fastened it.

  He cursed at her, folding his hands in his lap. Still, she could see the way the buckle of the harness jutted straight up because of the "package" hidden underneath it.

  She leaned close, whispering in his ear. "Thought you'd like this dress."

  "It's the boots," he barely choked out. "Well, and the dress. Both. Damn you, woman. I knew this idea was shit."

  She flashed him a grin. "I have a dagger in my right boot, a mini-luminator in my bra, and am wired totally for sound. I'll be safe."

  He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "Now I really have a stiffy."

  Besides, he had plenty of nerve, complaining about how sexy she looked. With his black jeans and cowboy boots and loosely buttoned black shirt, he was smolderingly sexy. In fact, from the moment they'd entered the warehouse, girls all over the joint had been checking him out, and she wasn't sure whether she should feel proud or possessive.

  Stepping out of the way of a drunk girl who lurched toward her on the dance floor, she searched the crowd for him. Although they wore concealed earpieces, it was impossible to hear transmissions over the music. Their entire team—Chris, Jake, Jared, and herself—would be meeting in one hour. That didn't give her long to try to scout out her own take on the situation.

  Chris had told them that they had two major objectives. First they had to figure out the Antousians' strategy in infiltrating these warehouse parties, from which they had been kidnapping humans and others—in some cases, their intel showed, for the purpose of sex slavery. The task force had speculated that they were drugging their selected targets, but witnesses interviewed by the FBI all claimed that their friends seemed lucid and coher
ent right up until the time they suddenly vanished. It was as if they were disappearing from the dance floor itself, was how several statements had described the kidnappings.

  And second, they needed to find the real Jake Tierny—the human Jake, as Shelby had come to think of him.

  Moving along the dance floor, she kept her eyes wide open, all the while doing a damned good imitation of a girl out for a good time. She was just hitting a pretty smooth groove with the techno when the light display suddenly became very erratic. The volume of the music increased sharply, and she felt dizzy and disoriented. Working to block out all the stimulation, she focused on the people around her—what little she could see of them. It seemed to be mostly women bobbing beside her in the sweaty darkness, some of them barely twenty years old.

  She thought of her little sisters, how they'd needed someone to protect them during the war, and determined that she'd learn whatever she could tonight on the sex-slavery ring. Reaching about her waist, she loosened her dress slightly, so that the tops of her breasts were more exposed. She also began to move her hips much more suggestively. After all, what better way to get intel than to use herself as a moving target?

  Again the music intensified, became confusing; darkness folded in on her, the light show becoming trippier and trippier. Shelby stopped cold on the floor, extending her hands about her in a steadying motion. If she wasn't careful, this sensory overload was going to make her faint. Or worse still, it could trigger an involuntary time-walking episode, leaving her completely vulnerable.

  Someone jostled her from behind, nearly knocking her to the floor. "Hey, watch it!" she called out over the noise, turning to see who had just rammed into her.

  When she saw his face, it was as if time itself ground to a painful, precarious halt. As if it grew compact, hard and small, then unraveled from the inside out.

  She gaped at the person in front of her, wide-eyed, trying to move her mouth, and then her entire world went black.