For himself, perhaps Zhandar would admit to wishing Gabriel Brant had met a more fitting fate than being locked up in a supply closet. Then again, when he contemplated what the man would probably face once the truth of Trinity’s escape got out, he thought that perhaps it was better that Ejiro had left Brant to the tender mercies of the Consortium’s own investigative teams. At the very least, he would probably be demoted and sent back to Gaia in disgrace. And if his own handlers were sufficiently annoyed, the man might be sent to that very same MaxSec prison on Titan that he’d used to threaten Trinity.
Zhandar couldn’t summon the will to be terribly concerned about what might happen to Gabriel Brant after that.
What he did think about, however, was the way Trinity had quite publicly come to him and put her arms around him. While the men under Ejiro’s command didn’t seem the type to gossip, even so, the story might begin to get out.
And would that be such a bad thing? Perhaps his people’s obsession with privacy sometimes worked against them. If they’d been more open about their population problems, and then allowed that in rare cases the Zhore and humans could interbreed, perhaps a plot like Brant’s would never have gotten past the planning stages. Surely the Eridanis, long allies of the Zhore, would have offered their assistance and support.
Zhandar looked down at Trinity again. A tendril of gold-streaked brown hair had fallen over her cheek, and he reached over with a gloved hand to brush it away.
A gloved hand.
He stared at his leather-encased fingers for a long moment, considering the thoughts that had just passed through his mind. Perhaps too much secrecy was not such a good thing after all.
Before he could stop himself, he grasped the fingertips of the glove and pulled it away, revealing the glinting rainbow shimmer of his bare skin. There, that was better. Now he could feel the softness of Trinity’s hair against his fingers. She stirred, and her eyes opened. Bleary at first, and then she seemed to focus on him, on the way his hand was exposed to everyone in the cabin.
A sharp tingle of worry, followed by a warm rush of understanding. She nodded, straightening in her seat.
Zhandar was aware of the watching eyes of the commandos, of the way they were trying to stare without staring at the revealed flesh of his hand. He knew he must do this thing now, before he lost his nerve.
With shaking fingers, he clutched the edges of his hood and then pushed it back so it lay against his shoulders. Black hair fell free against the black fabric of the robes.
Inside the cabin, all was deathly still, except for the faintest vibration of the ship’s passage through subspace. Zhandar could feel all those eyes on him, even as he sensed the strength of Trinity’s approval and admiration, clothing him in the very moment he felt most unclothed.
Then Ejiro stepped forward, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to the galaxy, Zhandar,” he said, smiling.
And Zhandar smiled in return.
* * *
Trinity wasn’t sure she would have believed it if she hadn’t seen it for herself. But no, there was Zhandar, pushing back his hood in front of all those men, proudly bearing the brunt of their shock and surprise, even though in general they were certainly not the type to gawk.
Afterward, lacing her fingers through his, she murmured, “Why?”
“Because it’s time,” he replied quietly.
And she couldn’t argue with that.
They were quiet the rest of the way back to Zhoraan, their hands still clasped in one another’s. The ship landed at a facility out in the woods somewhere, clearly a private ’port. And Nalzhir was there waiting for them.
As Zhandar had begun to disembark, he raised the hood once again. Trinity lifted a questioning eyebrow at him, and he said, “While I might be willing to start a revolution, I also understand that I cannot change the world overnight.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she responded, but she thought she understood. What he’d done on the ship had required a level of bravery she wasn’t sure she entirely comprehended, but even so, that action had only involved revealing himself to outsiders, to people who had no true conception of the utter privacy and secrecy the Zhore maintained in all levels of their public lives…and even their not-so-public lives.
He’d squeezed her hand, then led her from the ship. They’d already said their thanks and made their farewells, so almost as soon as their feet touched the soil of Zhoraan, the ship was lifting from the ground and heading back toward the sky.
And what a sky that was, deep cerulean tinged with green, and with high, high clouds streaked across it like the finest of antique lace. Trinity stood there for a moment, breathing in the fresh air, realizing that she was safe, that Gabriel Brant could never hurt her again.
Or…could he? After all, he had stolen her right from her apartment there in Torzhaan.
“You are troubled,” Zhandar said, even as Nalzhir emerged from the shelter of the spaceport’s office complex and began to head toward them.
“That’s a strong word. I suppose it’s just that I’m not sure Gabriel won’t try something again.”
“His actions do speak of a certain level of desperation. However, I think he will be spending a good portion of his near future trying to explain how you got away. I will admit that I don’t have a firm grasp of the inner workings of Consortium government agencies, but I would imagine that kind of incompetence isn’t the sort of thing they like to reward.”
Zhandar’s words soothed her a bit. True, the government didn’t tend to be too forgiving of those who failed it, especially on such a spectacular level. It would probably be a long time, if ever, before Gabriel was entrusted with anything of more importance than overseeing the trash-hauling schedules for Luna City.
Nalzhir approached then, radiating relief. “Ms. Knox, welcome back to Zhoraan.”
“Thank you,” she said politely. “It’s good to be back.” And it was, although right then what she wanted more than anything was to go to Zhandar’s apartment and spend a very long time reacquainting herself with every square inch of his body. Well, right after she had a decent meal, anyway. They’d been given water pouches on the mercenaries’ ship, but no one had mentioned food.
She couldn’t see his face, but she thought Nalzhir smiled then. “I also sent word of your return on to Lirzhan and Alexa. They were somewhat occupied, as apparently she went into labor early, but — ”
“Is she all right?” Zhandar asked, concern obvious in his voice.
Alexa. The former Gaian ambassador, who now had a Zhore husband. Hers would be the second Zhore/human child born. Trinity listened, anxious now as well.
Nalzhir raised a gloved hand. “She is fine. The baby has already been born. A healthy girl.”
Thank God. So that seemed to be two for two when it came to these hybrid children. Trinity touched her own stomach briefly. And you — you’ll be fine, too, despite everything, she told the tiny baby sleeping within her.
Zhandar seemed to understand what she was thinking, because his fingers twined themselves around hers once again. “That is welcome news. Then I will save my thanks to them for later, when they are not quite so busy.”
“Perhaps that is for the best. But now, I believe you would wish to return to Torzhaan?”
Yes, thank God, went through Trinity’s head, even as Zhandar replied, “I can think of nothing else we would rather do. I suppose at some point you will need our report, but if we can be allowed our rest first…?”
“Of course,” Nalzhir said.
Rest, Trinity thought. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing is precisely resting, but….
Something of her thoughts must have transmitted themselves to Zhandar, because his fingers tightened on hers, and he murmured, “Soon, my love. Very soon.”
She just hoped it would be soon enough.
* * *
Nalzhir had muffled Trinity in some borrowed robes, but as soon as she stepped into Zhandar’s apartment, she pull
ed them off and draped them over the back of a chair. “Your turn,” she said.
He followed suit, piling his hooded cloak on top of hers. They stood that way for a moment, regarding each other, not speaking. Then she said,
“When you let those men see you. It was brave, but….”
“But you are wondering what my end goal is.” He went to her and kissed her on the cheek, gently, marveling at the velvet softness of her skin. “Some zhir?” he asked.
A little sigh escaped her lips. “Love some.” The Zhore liquor had such a low alcohol content that she knew a small amount couldn’t hurt the baby.
He went to the refrigeration unit and pulled out a bottle, then retrieved a couple of glasses and poured a measure of the pale gold liquid into each. Trinity came to him in the kitchen and lifted one of the glasses.
“To the future.”
“That is a good thing to drink to.” He raised his glass as well and drank, savoring the dry mineral taste of the liquor as it drifted over his tongue. Slanting a look down at her, he said, “And I believe you were wishing for some food?”
She arched an eyebrow. “I though I was the mind reader here, Zhandar, not you.”
“Let us just say that I’ve begun to understand something of your thought processes.” He went over to the robes he’d just removed and extracted his handheld from an interior pocket. A few swipes of his finger, a few taps on the screen, and then he set the device down on the dining room table. “It will be here shortly.”
“Wonderful.” She paused for a few seconds, obviously thinking something over, then asked quietly, “What is your end goal, though? Those mercs don’t seem like gossips, but I’m pretty sure word will begin to get around.”
“Good.” He paused, then drank some more of his zhir, a healthy swallow that almost emptied the small glass. After this glass, he would have to stop, because he did not want any memories of this time with her hazy and blunted by the alcohol. “When the Eridanis first came to Zhoraan, they were surprised by the way we hid ourselves, but they accepted our customs. They did not try to change us. And as we began to have more contact with the galaxy, instead of opening up, we became that much more reclusive and clung to our practices that much more tightly. It is true the robes serve some purpose, in that they can help to protect us from the emotions of others, but the real truth is, Trinity, that we are taught from an early age to keep those emotions to ourselves so that we don’t inflict them on others. So in many cases, these robes only serve to keep us separate from one another. And that is something we cannot afford. Not with what we are facing now.”
“But what about those of us who aren’t Zhore?” she asked. “It’s not as if most people are trained to have the kind of mental barriers someone like me might have. That’s got to be tough for you.”
“It can be,” Zhandar replied. He set down his glass and came to her. Seeming to understand his intention, she also placed her glass on the table and then let him take her hands. Her fingers felt so fragile in his, but he knew how strong she truly was. “But there are very few of us who venture out into the greater galaxy. Some, yes. People like Lirzhan, who was an ambassador. Or this Sarzhin, who met his Gaian wife on a colony world. Even fewer who travel because they want to see stars and worlds that are not their own. It is not that difficult to stay at home and enjoy the beauties of Zhoraan, and be surrounded by those who know how to politely keep their emotions shielded. Better, I think, to catch a stray drift of someone’s worry or fear or anger every once in a while rather than have the entire galaxy thinking we are all some kind of hideous monsters under these robes.”
Trinity opened her mouth, as if to protest, then stopped herself. Sounding rueful, she said, “I was about to tell you that we do no such thing…but it’s true. If you could find it in yourselves to let everyone else know what you truly look like….” She stopped herself then, and chuckled slightly, blue-green eyes dancing.
“What is it?” Zhandar asked, puzzled by her reaction. Surely nothing he had just said was that amusing.
In response, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, I was just wondering what was going to happen once the word gets out that you Zhore are not only gorgeous, but empathic and amazing lovers as well. Every single woman on Gaia is going to be hopping a ship for Zhoraan.”
That seemed rather terrifying to him, and certainly not a cause for amusement. But Trinity’s expression told him she was teasing, at least a little. Also, he realized then that the mass defection of Gaia’s women might have one beneficial side effect. “Ah, well,” he said then, “I suppose that will be all right, especially if it has the end result of teaching your men that they should treat their women a little better.”
She laughed and pulled him to her, and they kissed, her lips so soft, so full, that he could feel himself stiffening at once. But then the door chime sounded, and he had to pull away so he could relieve the delivery mech of its burden and bring their food inside.
It was only the work of a moment to take everything he’d ordered to the living room, where they sat and ate, speaking little, both of them knowing that they only partook of this food now so it would give them the energy they needed for what was to come next. Truly, he didn’t know when Trinity had last eaten, but for him it had been more than a day. Perhaps he should have been more weary than this, considering all that had transpired over the last thirty-six hours or so, but he knew he couldn’t be tired, not with Trinity sitting next to him on the sofa, her knee brushing against his, the soft lights in his apartment catching shimmers of gold and even deep copper from within the masses of her hair.
She looked thoughtful, though, the teasing light of earlier gone from her eyes. “But what will all this mean for Zhoraan’s women? Gabriel seemed to think that the fertility problems were all theirs…but are they?”
He didn’t reply at first, considering her question. Truly, he did not know for sure. It was obvious that he had no difficulties fathering a child, but how much did that truly mean? “I cannot say, Trinity. It is something we will have to consider. One would think that if a woman of your race can share the sayara bond with a man of the Zhore, then a woman of my people should be able to bond with a human male. It just has not happened yet.” Something in him found that difficult to believe, but then he told himself not to be so narrow-minded. Simply because Gabriel Brant was such a despicable specimen of humanity didn’t mean all Gaian men were like that. Ejiro, now — he seemed like a good enough sort. Perhaps his adventurous spirit was the sort of counterpoint that calm, cool Leizha truly needed.
The thought made him smile, and Trinity’s mouth quirked in response.
“I think you’re playing matchmaker,” she said. “Which I’ve heard is a sign of a man who’s happy in his current relationship.”
“Oh, I am happy,” he replied. “Indeed, let me show you how happy I am.”
He reached out to her, taking her fingers in his. At once she rose and let him lead her to the bedroom.
There was no need for speech. Not now. Slowly, carefully, he undid the unfamiliar fasteners of the tunic she wore — buttons, he thought the Gaians called them — and then pulled the garment away. Underneath she wore a breast support of some lacy fabric, very different in appearance from what the women of Zhoraan might wear, but with the same basic purpose. This one seemed almost calculated to be enticing, though, with the way her creamy flesh was cupped by the material and at the same time revealed by it.
Trinity seemed to notice where he was staring, and gave a humorless laugh. “Trust Gabriel to leave some sexy lingerie for me.” She used the Galactic Standard word for “lingerie,” since Zhoraani had no real equivalent. Undergarments among his people were strictly utilitarian. “Thank God he didn’t have a chance to actually see it on me.”
Neither did his people believe in a universal deity, the way some Gaians did, but from what he could tell, many of them seemed to evoke this “God” when giving thanks — or cursing — even if they didn’t
seem to be people of faith otherwise. But although Zhandar didn’t share that belief, right then he found himself thanking God as well that Trinity had been rescued before Gabriel could get make any further progress in his nefarious plans for her.
“I do enjoy seeing you in it,” Zhandar told her, then bent and trailed a line of kisses from her collarbone to the curve of her breast. Again, the velvet softness of her skin entranced him. She let out a soft, hissing breath and arched her back slightly, pushing herself into him.
Ah, that lacy garment was entrancing, true, but what it hid was far more delectable. He located the hooks at the back and undid them, then dropped the scrap of fabric to the floor. His hands closed on her bare breasts, stroking them, feeling how her nipples hardened under his fingertips.
There was nothing for it but to take one into his mouth, to run his tongue over the pebbled flesh and hear her cry out. She was so very responsive, as if every nerve ending in her body had been attuned to his. Perhaps it had. After all, she was sayara.
Then they were falling to the bed, her fingers tugging at his garments, pulling them away. She pressed her naked body against him, as if she wanted to feel the whispery sensation of his finely scaled skin against every centimeter of her form. He couldn’t blame her for that, because he was also marveling at the smooth suppleness of her body, the exquisite texture of her skin. Perhaps when he had first looked upon her in this form, he had thought her alien, but now she was only herself, perfect in every way, every curve seemingly designed to fit against him. And when he finally slid inside her, it was as if they had been made to lock together, their bodies the light and dark of the universe, of wholeness, of creation.
He could ask for nothing more than that.
* * *
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