Paul thrust his arms into his standard boring black leather vest.
Thank goodness, the guy picked up a pair of leather pants from his quarters before heading to the map room.
Goro turned to face Jake. “Did you have any physical contact with the Mawshwuc?” he said with his mouth.
The commander’s voice held no clue of betrayal.
But they weren’t going to blame me for a problem with their grapevine. “No. And it’s dead now. So would be the condition of any of my blood it collected, if it had.”
Goro ignored the point by turning to Paul. “Were you bitten?”
“No. Its ability to entrance humans didn’t affect me in my altered state. Let’s chalk that one up to the beast in me.” Paul snaked his arms across his chest. “Furry armor pays off in more than one way.”
“You now understand why were-assassins are the only weapon standing between us and them. Voldon and his entrancing slaves can’t control werewolves with their psychic powers.” Goro slid a stoic gaze to Jake. “Embrace your feral side for it’s the only weapon you have in psychic warfare.”
A man could make that deduction on his own. The point had to be uttered for more than my sake.
“It’s dead now. The danger has passed,” Sevra stated.
Goro wagged his head. “I wanted to know more about its offspring. If only we could learn whether they’ve managed to stabilize a fetus full term. But destiny didn’t see fit to humor our curiosity. We’ll have to wait to learn what destiny has in store for The Cause. It’s as if the Gods can’t decide which side should win. And a universe without the Gods’ favor is a frightening place.” He turned his back to them. “Go now, Sevra and Weatherford. Prepare for Gameddaron.”
Sevra shot Jake a speculative glance and departed with her spouse.
The woman has problems. He returned her stare until she vanished in the darkness.
“What happened between them and the Mawshwuc?” Goro asked.
Like I could assess something totally foreign to me. “The Mawshwuc hypnotized me. Then Paul roared onto the scene and knocked me away from the vampire. He grabbed the creature by the neck, hurled it into the elevator, and Sevra torched the bastard. Things happened so fast. That’s it.”
“The battle? Did you sense anything easy about Weatherford’s capture of the Mawshwuc?”
Could there have been something I missed? “I don’t know enough about were-wolves and alien vampires to assess what I witnessed.”
Goro scratched his bald head and paced two steps. “If only I’d witnessed the fight.” He straightened his spine and nodded at Jake. “Thank you for your candor. Please reassure Red Trekaar that Destiny has righted things once again aboard the ship.”
Or the commander used the Mawshwuc to test his crew.
* * * *
When the report resonated through The Seeker’s neural network that the Mawshwuc was terminated and nobody injured, assaulted, or killed, Kindrist sat upon her meditation bench and sighed. Goro had taken the time to seek out her mind during the chaos. To inform her of Jake’s defying orders. But Sevra championed The Cause. Saved my mate strangely enough. And Goro’s mistake in saving the vampire had corrected itself. Or Destiny took control and flipped the blunder back to status quo. None the matter, the elevated risk was now completely dissipated.
Bless all things sacred.
What did Jake think of his brush with Voldon’s biological weapon? Rather the enchantment? The unnerving hypnosis always takes the uninitiated by surprise, even long after the fact.
The door whisked open.
Jake strode into the room.
Oddly carefree.
“Did you have a good day, babe?” he asked like they had done this for years and she appreciated the favoritism.
Or was his attitude merely an offering of peace? Alas, a facetious soul mate was better than a grouchy earthling inducted against his will. Better to forget the earlier events in The Chamber and start anew. “After what unfolded, yes. The universe has righted itself.” The Cause had to be nature’s favorite. Proof that free will allowed for diversity and expansion of the universe.
He crossed the space to their table and claimed a space on the bench, his back against the wall. “A crazy thing happened today.”
Really? She gulped back a laugh. “What?”
“Aside from the creepy little creature working for Voldon trying to seduce me, I think your wonderful commander released the Mawshwuc.”
Impossible. “Why would he have done that?”
“He wanted to know if I saw anything unusual occur between Paul and the Mawshwuc during their confrontation.” Jake leaned forward, propping an elbow on a knee. “I think Goro tested Sevra and her mate’s allegiance to The Cause.”
Could Goro have risked the lives of his crew members to test those he wanted incriminated? He must have. She met Jake’s triumphant gaze. “That has to be truth. His confusing actions are so logical from your perspective. Especially when Sevra was the assassin who saved you.”
“Well, Paul was the shaggy DA. Over-sized. Not so scrawny. Terrifyingly powerful. The whole ship quaked when he roared. Quaked right up my legs from the metal floor. I have a new respect for him. At least when he’s subhuman.”
Spoken like a crew member with a keen awareness of reality.
Jake claimed a spot beside her, his assessing gaze sliding across her body.
Hunger dabbled therein.
“How do you feel now?” he asked, his dark gaze locking on hers.
For the most part, boredom fled with the attack. But was he asking about her blood lust? That would have to wait until after he explained how Goro tested Sevra and Jake had a new appreciation for Paul. “I feel normal except for being pregnant. No pain if that’s what you’re concerned about.”
“Goro and Sevra don’t think I follow orders.” He laughed and paced off toward the simple lines of their table. “You and I have quite a reputation.”
Is my mate challenging me? Or am I facing the truth far too impossible to ignore? I’ve bonded my soul to a man who I can’t hide from. A man who is trying to force me to forget who I was to just be his pregnant wife. Speak of an eternal Gods’ jest. Or is Jake merely toying with me? She blinked her husband’s muscled arms back into her thoughts.
Was the smug look on his face another aspect of his defiant nature? Did he think he won? Am I supposedly right where he wants me? Pregnant and strapped to a meditation bench. The master imprisoned by the prisoner. Believing any part of those thoughts is fear. Has to be fear. But Jake defied orders. Have I brought an unreliable earthling aboard The Seeker? Is Destiny falling apart because of my choices? Dare I believe Goro’s behavior is for the greater good of all free-thinkers?
I have to.
Jake sauntered toward her.
The man was edgy. Or something.
He grabbed her hand and heaved her to her feet. “It’s time to sate the lust between us.”
As if on cue, need ached through her so deeply her nipples pinched and her sex ached.
She couldn’t answer. Didn’t answer. Just simply followed him to the bed. Into his arms. Just to find some relief from the room’s walls squeezing her reality into the tiniest space imaginable. But Jake peeled back the walls. And her clothes, planting hot kisses on her neck.
Her skin tingled with gooseflesh.
That mouth was a unique and deadly weapon that trailed across her chest from one taut nipple to the other. In the wake of those seductive lips, his fingers brushed away any lingering goosebumps. All the way down to her navel where his thumb circled, driving her hips mad with teasing.
Why wouldn’t he rub her lower in the most divine place in the universe? Right there. In her sex?
His fingers trailed down to the hairs of her sex, investigating, seeking, slowly moving lower until she thought she’d snarl an order or two. But she choked them back and just rocked her hips with need. Anything to get her message across. Couldn’t he tell she wanted him to hurry?
He grabbed her ass, turned her around, leaned her over the bed, and dipped the smooth tip of his manhood across the slickness of her sex. “God, you’re so wet.”
And he was so damned slow. She rubbed her sex against his manhood.
He plunged into her.
He had a different air about him this time. Like he was in control instead of desperately searching for release. And he could have anything he wanted. She arched her back, offering her soul to his whims where he pounded his shaft into her core.
The soft hypnotic beat of his sack against her tender skin almost felt like he admonished her—like a mate who deeply cared for his spouse. Maybe she’d been wrong for nursing her anger. By the way her body suddenly shivered against his firm manhood, she knew he was going to make a point. She needed to be more careful. Anything to bow down before him and receive punishment.
A wave of climax built up inside her with his increasing force and focused penetration.
She almost screamed but grabbed fistfuls of bedding instead. Cheek against the bed’s softness, she couldn’t hold back the cries his hard presence tickled from inside her. He groaned, matching each of her cries with a solid lunge burying the incredible root of his soul so deeply inside her she thought life would end because nothing could match the rapture of mating.
His grasp sought out new handholds to help him hang onto her while he exploded inside her soul.
As if she might run away. No. She shoved her sex back against his groin to show him he could have more. Anytime.
He sighed.
What thoughts whirled through his mind?
He folded over, blanketing her with the sweat of his triumph.
Still he offered no words.
Would he ever want to truly share himself with her?
His weight shifted as he climbed onto the bed and claimed a spot.
Silently. She stretched out with her back facing him.
She’d have to be content with that much in her mate. At least he could make her heart soar during sex.
Chapter Seventeen
“What did you think when you had that vampire by its scrawny neck,” Jake asked the relaxed guzzling Paul who sat across the table in what could loosely be referred to as a shadowy lounge wielding half a dozen tables with benches and some extremely haunting New-Age music.
Talk about eerie outer-space ambiance. Maybe asking about fighting the Mawshwuc wasn’t a good thing. No wonder earth folks hung out in The Chamber with crazy Darla.
Three other psychics in the room emptied their drinks in silence.
Probably talking up a storm inside each other’s heads. These extraterrestrials could humor the disturbed human and speak with their mouths. Or was that too beneath them?
Paul dropped his silver glass from his mouth and smacked his lips. “Well, I remember thinking if the damned Mawshwuc got its fangs on me that I’d have to rip its bloated head off.”
Typical scared-shitless response. So much for admiring the guy’s subhuman form. But the twit deserved points for honesty. Jake lifted his glass of neon-orange brew.
Had Paul lost all of his cognizance when his feral side wagged its tail? With his candor, he’d talk. “Did you recognize me when you were in were-form?”
“Oh yeah. That’s a given. We know who people are. It’s kind of tough to say how much we each will remember though. Or so I’ve been warned.” He leaned forward onto his elbows and chuckled. “Maybe it’s all dependent upon how much of an animal a person truly is. Deep down inside. Or so Darla likes to postulate.”
If he only realized how much more emphasis on his weak civilized scrawny existence that statement made. Paul feared Darla and a pregnant Mawshwuc. Two females. All Voldon needed to do was send a female after Paul. The psychic would reign supreme over Paul’s petrified form. Jake sighed and poured his draught of warm orange liqueur across his tongue.
Hopefully the alien’s burning silky liquid would knock him out for a few weeks because the mission to Gameddaron was destined for a disaster. He swallowed the wet fire and lowered his glass.
Paul studied him.
The wimp probably wondered how formidable I’d be in were-form. “So, what makes you think I won’t rip your head off when I shift into something as big, bad, and ugly as you were today?”
Paul’s brown eyebrows arched as he offered a straight-lipped smile. “Let’s hope for the best.”
The best must have ranked up there with the predestined stuff of extraterrestrial legends. At least the man had a good sense of humor. “Rather trusting in this destiny thing, aren’t you?”
A wave of heat roiled in his belly.
Paul scooted his glass across the metal table top, out of a line of fire, as if planning to speak with his hands. “I’ve seen too much these past three years not to believe in free-thinking legend. 2012 is bigger than an earth legend and the Mayan calendar stuff. It’s like the entire universe is part of some crazed space opera, moving toward a moment in time when things will shift and align.”
Maybe so. At least, there weren’t any intuitive points from one’s gut to hash over during this revealing conversation.
“Do you know about web-bot theory?” Paul asked.
Was I supposed to draw a blank? “What’s that?”
“Similar to the 2012 Mayan prediction and Violet Child theory. Web bots have predicted many things to computer folks. They saw 9-11 happening. They see something happening on the winter solstice of 2012.”
“What’s a web bot?”
“An aspect of a search engine. Sites like Google send out feelers looking for keywords and themes to keep up with information for those doing internet searches. These feelers are web bots searching for tags. And through the years, tags are reflecting and predicting events. Maybe not finding the exact details of the event. More like clues pointing at an upcoming catastrophe. Like Bible Code.”
Not more Sunday school. How would the internet predict something that had yet to happen? “I don’t see the connection with web bots and Bible Code.”
“It’s all about order in the universe. Or connections. They say Voldon wants earth because the planet occupies one of three locations in the universe that will aid in channeling thoughts through quadrants.”
Whatever that meant. “You mean something bigger than neural networks?”
Paul nodded.
But the way telepathic communication worked didn’t appear failsafe. “Neural networks seem pretty weak in their need for a fortification and occupants to operate the pretty crystal collections.” Or so Goro had claimed during a tutoring session.
“Yeah. And Voldon forces his energy on those who must operate the crystals with their thoughts. Oddly enough, these neural networks are like electrical circuits run by breathing beings who just stand around and focus their thoughts on heightening the crystal’s natural vibrations. Weird.”
“What’s weird?” Like a wimp sitting here sucking down alien brews while telling me about being a were-wolf?
“How this ship runs on thoughts. How the neural network resonates thoughts throughout the universe by the power of thought. How the pod fighters run on biorhythms. It’s all weird science. If you can even imagine it being scientific. The science I took would never believe any of this.”
True. “But it works. Maybe it’s magic.”
Paul chuckled. “Yeah. Like the crystal skulls Voldon is dying to possess. All thirteen of them. That’s just another reason for extraterrestrial visits to earth. The big search for another skull. And those skulls are supposed to magically empower their owner if you get them working together for the big winter solstice of 2012.”
And magically enough, Paul hadn’t told one fib while clutching his extraterrestrial brewsky. But silence didn’t seem his forte unlike the aliens in the room. That characteristic would help a person sniff out his loyalties through idle chitchat. “How do you deal with the dreadful silence aboard The Seeker?”
He smiled. “I look for someone to talk to when I ge
t the itch.” He thrust his cup up in a celebratory cheer-like gesture.
What a strange guy. Mercenaries and computer geeks were definitely two different species. Poor miserable Paul. God knows, not many chatty types hung about waiting for a homesick human. “Where are the other earthlings?”
“Fighting the war. They’re spread thin among a fleet of free-thinking starships. We usually meet the new recruits if we’re here when they’re brought aboard. The war covers such an immense amount of space that it’s almost impossible to run into another person from your home planet when you’re as rare as a Violet Child earthling were-assassin.”
Nobody needed to explain the rarity of shape shifters from good old mother earth when the reality of the situation smacked me with permanent silence twenty-four-seven.
Paul shoved off the table and stood. “Anytime you need to talk, let me know. I’m always up for a drink. But I’ve got to get back to work. The wife’s never-ending chore list is waiting for me.” He winked.
Or the commander had a chore list. Fortunately, scaring the birds out of the brush proved to be an interesting game. Who would be driven out of the bush? Maybe the commander. Or the Weatherfords. And wives, well they just needed a little satisfying like a guy’s miserable peon. “Not a bad idea in keeping the wife happy.” He shoved up from the table’s hard surface as well. “But I’m off to find out what the commander has in mind.”
“Goro’s an excellent mentor. Swing by my quarters afterward, and I’ll figure out what else you need to know before you head out in thirty-six hours.”
Jake’s gut sank.
Not a good sign for the mission. Didn’t Paul know he’s joining me on this cruise ship’s day excursion to Gameddaron? Certainly Goro had informed Paul already. Or Goro exhibited the suspicious behavior.
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