by T M Roy
He raised his face to glare at the Sirgel sitting so damned calmly next to him. “Is this some sort of test?” His words dripped with sarcasm as sharp as the beer he still tasted in his nose and throat.
“Perhaps,” said H’renzek, “but you passed it.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? You’d better start talking and talk fast. Or I’m going to scream like a banshee and have cops in here faster than you can jump into your little scooter over there and take off.”
“I doubt that, Dr. Xavier.” The amusement that flared for a second in H’renzek’s tilted eyes made Kent take a breath as in preparation to carry out his threat.
Long, strong fingers clamped over his mouth before Kent even knew the alien moved. The pressure, accompanied by a tingle of electricity, lasted only a heartbeat, long enough for Kent to reconsider.
“Why are you here? Never mind that. Take me with you.” An unexpected doubt crept forward in his mind. “Does…does Povre…?”
“Love you? Povre will always love you, Kent Xavier. She neglected to tell you once a Sirgel gives his or her heart it is forever, and there can never be another. Unlike humans.”
Kent’s hands pulled at his long hair as if the pain would make more sense than what he heard or felt. Povre. Povre doomed herself to a life of loneliness because she thought it would be best for him. She hinted at it, even before they made love. She tried…
She knew.
And she still went ahead, knowing what it meant for her.
“Unlike some humans. I want to be with her,” Kent said, voice wooden.
“That is,” H’renzek said, “why I came.”
“You said it wasn’t possible. Ben said it was against your laws.”
The Sirgel’s deep, dry chuckle cracked like brittle ice. “Laws.” Kent watched him take another swallow of the microbrew. “All my life I have lived to uphold laws and rules. Good ones, made sensibly, for sound reasons. But there are laws made by a higher order than the Affiliated Races.” The alien took another pull from his bottle. “And there are things a father must do for his daughter. It is not right that you two, having Life Mated, be separated, baby or no baby.”
“Life Mated?”
“Yes. I should have seen that sooner.”
“Wait a minute.” Kent felt a silly grin starting on his face. “This Life Mating, is that anything like making a formal commitment? Like getting married?” He saw the term went right over H’renzek’s shaggy head. “Like until death do us part?”
“The bond lasts beyond the death of one’s mate,” H’renzek said at last, and so very softly Kent almost missed the personal note of raw loss and grief. He cleared his throat and went on before Kent could say anything more. “I understand what you mean. Some of the other Affiliated people have such…ceremonies. We do not. But yes, Dr. Xavier, it is done.”
Kent watched as H’renzek’s half-shadowed form carefully sat the empty bottle of Red Hook on the deck. “Povre said I might not survive.”
H’renzek shrugged and tipped his head slightly. “Every decision in life has it risks.”
If I get to go—hell, I’ll crazy glue myself to H’renzek so he’ll have to take me. Kent nearly laughed aloud at the mental image. Instead of dragging the human kicking and screaming aboard an alien starship, the alien would be kicking and screaming trying to dislodge Kent from a death grip on his body. No kidnapping or abduction, rather a hijacking. When we go, thought Kent, eyeing the still-pensive Sirgel slouched into the resin deck chair, I’ll still ask Povre to marry me. Even though we already are in their eyes. In mine, too.
Their making love wouldn’t have changed a thing. Nor her being pregnant. Kent realized he’d found his heart’s desire in the Deschutes National Forest.
“Retu H’renzek?” Kent recalled Povre assigning that title to him. Despite the slouch, Kent noticed from the start that Povre’s father was more soldier than explorer. “Can you translate Retu for me?”
“It is a rank for commanders of Exploration teams.” The older male spoke as if Kent’s words switched his voice back on. “When we came to recover Povre, I thought what I witnessed between you both was only an infatuation, an enchantment. Something brought about only because you were each so different and fascinated by those differences. Not true and real love. I was wrong, and so overwhelmed to have Povre back that I failed to interpret the signs properly.”
“It was a pretty intense moment,” Ken allowed, feeling for the older man.
“That is why I am here. And if it is not the Goddess’s intention you be united with Povre, then, and only then, will we admit defeat.”
Kent stared. “Does Povre know you’re here?”
H’renzek’s shaggy, silvered head shook. “No. We didn’t want to raise her hopes only to disappoint her.”
“Okay, H’renzek,” Kent said, “what’s the plan?”
“The risks?” the older Sirgel reminded.
“I’ll walk through fire if that’s what it takes.”
H’renzek nodded. “It may require that,” said the alien as calmly as if ordering his lunch.
“Okay,” said Kent, tipping his bottle to make certain he got every drop. If this was his last beer on Earth, or anywhere, he didn’t want to waste it.
* * * * *
“KENT," MURMURED POVRE IN her dream. She smiled. They were back in the huge bed of the motel—her body spooned into his. He’d made love to her the way she knew he wanted to. Slowly. With endless, deliberate passion and tenderness. Now they lay together, exhausted, sated.
But only here in her dreams.
“Kent,” she said again, moving his dream hand to her belly. “I’m going to have your baby. I’m so happy. I wish he looks like you. Or she. Then I can feel you will always be with me. But I wish…”
She wriggled herself closer to his dream body. She loved the feel of his dream hand stroking her hair.
“I wish you can be with me, with us too. I hope you’re happy, Kent…”
Povre purred in pleasure as his dream lips closed, oh so gently, on her ear, and then moved to trail tiny little dream kissed along the line of her jaw, her neck. His dream arm slid around her, under her sensitive breasts, and she moaned softly, wanting his warm palms to cup and caress her there. Wanted to feel him nuzzle and suckle like the baby would.
But it was just a dream, and as vivid as her dreams of Kent were, Povre only felt a growing frustration building with her sexual tension. Her throat tightened and her breath caught on a sob. “The doctor says I have to stop being so emotional,” she told Kent’s dream presence. “It’s not good for the baby. I shouldn’t be so emotional anyway, Kent. I am a scientist.”
Her hand fell to the mattress, but his dream hand remained on her belly and traveled upward slowly. She bit her lower lip and groaned deep in her chest. Attempting to roll on her back, she came up against a solid, warm wall.
“Analyze this,” whispered a voice in a language still foreign, yet intimately familiar. Warm breath sighed against her ear and face.
Povre came fully awake with a gasp.
The tiny kisses didn’t cease. Nor did the hand stroking her hair, or the other making teasing circles that fanned the deep burning fires of desire within.
“Kent,” she breathed.
“Povresle,” he whispered.
This time, when she rolled over, eyes wide open, she encountered no resistance.
“Kent!”
“Hey, there.”
His beautiful brown eyes were wet and shiny. He smiled. Povre lay frozen, willing him to be real and not an open-eyed dream. Her breaths came in short gasps. When she again opened her mouth to say his name, he kissed her instead. Swallowing her words. Filling her mouth and mind with tender sweetness. She found control over her limbs and clasped her arms and legs around him tightly so he couldn’t escape.
“How?” she cried when he let her up for air.
~~
Kent drank in her happiness, not minding the increased zinging th
at came along with it. “Your dad picked me up. What some of us on Earth refer to a shotgun wedding, I guess.” He chuckled at his joke even as he saw it go right over Povre’s shaggy head.
“H’renzek! Why…? How?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Kent said. He dipped his head, his teeth closed softly over her lower lip, his tongue laving the spot before delving deeply into her warm mouth again. He couldn’t quell the flash of regret for the pain his faked demise would cause others…his friends, his sister. His students and colleagues. Even Lynn. But accidents happened every day. And his had been quite spectacular. He’d sure miss his motorcycle, though.
As for Comet, well, cats took off on their own all the time. Sometimes never to return. Last Kent heard, the presence of the ship’s second newest crewmember—and H’renzek’s new bunkmate, since the Sirgel and the feline were totally fascinated by each other—created more of a sensation than his had.
He felt another, deeper sorrow for his older sister Kelly and what she would have to go through, again, in a life that was already scarred by people dying in abrupt and violent ways. Kelly will be all right, he thought firmly. Somehow she’ll figure it out. And she’ll understand.
The rest? He didn’t worry about that. Wills and insurance existed to take care of those matters.
Turning his attention to the present, he smiled at the woman in his arms.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now, and I’ll be with you forever. You and the baby. I love you, Povre. Are you sure you want me around? I’d sure hate for your dad to come through on his threat to jettison me with the garbage if you’d changed your mind.”
Her eyes widened anew. “We do not jettison garbage—oh! A joke.” Her lips twitched into a smile, her fingers tangled in his long brown hair. “Oh Kent, I love you.” She wriggled close, hugging him hard. Then she made a sound of annoyance, pushing away from him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, seeing her frown.
“One human custom I insist you must lose immediately,” said Povre, her hands now clenched in his shirt.
“What’s that, sweetheart?” He dropped kisses like raindrops on her frowning face.
“Wearing clothing in bed at any time,” she said, somehow getting his shirt off without him missing a kiss. “It’s simply not healthy. One’s body must be free of clothing at least during their resting part of the day.”
“Skin needs to breathe, yes, I know, my mother and grandmother said the same thing. Normally I don’t wear anything to sleep,” he explained, “but since I met you, either I’ve been freezing cold or scared to death of my primal urges.”
This time she laughed. “I like your primal urges,” she confessed.
“Good, because I’m not planning on resting. At least not for a good long time. Until I’ve loved you into exhaustion.”
Povre snuggled her body into his, and their arms and legs closed around each other. And Kent knew, no matter where they were, or where they’d be, or where they would find themselves in the future, they would be forever together.
* * * The End * * *
No forest rangers, government agents, aliens, or cats were harmed in the production on this novel.
The author is grateful to:
Sara V. Olds, since without her, the initial challenge to write this story never would have happened. To my youngest sister Laura, who introduced me to most of the Eugene locations in this book. To all my sisters and all those afternoons of brown grocery sacks stuffed full of second- and third-hand mass market romance novels. To anyone who has ever said to me “It can’t be done” or “It will never work”— in any context. To those kind people who gave the first editions of Discovery such nice reviews. And now most of all, to Cathy Wiley, for last-minute editing, encouragement, insight, faith, and kicks in the butt. But most of all for her friendship.
Author and cover artist
T.M. Roy writing as Terran Moffat
T.M. Roy considers herself a “naturalized” Oregonian and has lived, worked, and played in all the places in this novel…well, except for the Affliliated Races space ship and certain games in U of O greenhouses.
She has been writing stories and drawing since since was old enough to hold a crayon. When she has the time and budget, she likes sushi and flying small airplanes. Recently moved (temporarily displaced) from her beloved Pacific Northwest, she currently lives in the St. Paul area with an opinionated Quaker parrot named Apple and a Senegal parrot named Sir Hugo the Naked.
You can find her online at Facebook, her website, www.teryvisions.com, or contact by email at [email protected].
About this story
This story was initially conceived in the late 1990’s in answer to a challenge of just how fast someone could churn out a basic formula romance in the old mass market paperback style.
Well, I never was any good at following formulas, but it went from idea to first draft in less than ten days. I decided to make the main character male instead of female, and after four months of living out in the woods near Bend, Oregon, the location was a no-brainer. This is a short and sweet read, something easy to polish off in an afternoon at the beach or with a pot of tea and a fire. The concept of the Affiliated Races is taken from another universe I first started creating in an epic story I started in high school. Povresle is the ancestress of several of the main characters of this universe, and one day I might bring their stories to light.
Zapstone Productions
Zapstone Productions is a small independent publisher with offices in St. Paul, Minnesota and Baltimore, Maryland. Originally founded in Grand Forks, North Dakota, the company hibernated between 2004 and 2008, to be reborn in 2009 with a new partnership. We hope to bring you, our reader, many satisfying hours of entertainment. Visit us at www.zapstone.com to:
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Books in the Cassandra Ellis series
Dead to Writes
Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Write
Write of Passage (available in 2012)
More Zapstone Books
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Science Fiction/Action
T. M. Roy
Convergence – Journey to Nyorfias, Book 1
Gravity – Journey to Nyorfias, Book 2
Stratagem – Journey to Nyorfias, Book 3 (TBA)
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T.M. Roy and Sara V. Olds
Casualties of Treachery – The Ukasir’s Own, Unit One
(check website for details)
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SF/F-Romance
T.M. Roy
Discovery – A Far Out Romance
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Middle Reader/Historical
Sara V. Olds
Anna – A Farewell to Juarez
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Table of Contents
Cover
legal
dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
acknowledgements
About...
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Excerpt from LK Rigel's GIVE ME
PROLOGUE
Cold and salty winds drove in over the Severn Sea and blew Frona’s hair in every direction. She pulled her cloak’s hood forward and stepped
behind Igdrasil, the ancient oak which clung to the cliff edge. Since dawn a bank of clouds had approached land from the western ocean. Frona had watched, drawing strength from Igdrasil, and waited.
Aeolios was in those clouds, and he was angry. The god of wind was furious with her for the Great Wyrding.
As a favor to King Jowan, Frona had altered the vast deposits of iron ore buried beneath Dumnos. In human terms, the spell was her greatest success. The king had ordered songs composed and tapestries woven to commemorate the awesome deed. Dumnos now had steel to rival that of any kingdom. It made for lighter cauldrons and more durable horseshoes, and superior swords for the knights.
This morning the king was safe in his bed at Tintagos Castle, and Frona was left to deal with the god’s wrath. She’d made a mistake in the wyrding. She hadn’t considered its effect on nonhuman realms.
Driving rain joined the wind to announce Aeolios’s arrival. When he was at peace he rested in the bowels of Dumnos, but abroad he commanded the wind. Wind—but no thunder, no bolts of lightning.
“Face me, wyrding woman!” A blast of wind whipped around Igdrasil and blew back Frona’s hood. She sighed. Yes, she’d caused him grief, and he would complain, but he was a minor god. “Your contempt for the natural law will not go unpunished!”
The vibration of his voice passed through her and left a residual of nausea. She had gone too far. It was all in a day’s work to bend and guide the material world, but it was a dangerous business to change anything’s fundamental nature. But she wouldn’t admit that to Aeolios. She stepped away from Igdrasil. As a precaution, she set a boundary around herself and the tree, like a bubble, a shield against his temper.
The clouds consolidated and darkened over the waters in the bay and rose in a black billowing flume larger than Igdrasil. The perfect shape of a man formed with eyes that flashed like fire, a gigantic torso, shoulders, and arms.
Frona let out her breath in relief. Aeolios could appear in whatever form he chose, and he’d made himself handsome in her eyes. He wanted something. It would make him easier to deal with.