Keeping the stern dead-on to the wave front took every ounce of skill she possessed. A rapid succession of commands to alter the shuttle’s bearing streamed from her brain while in the background her mind kept screaming Go straight, go straight, go straight! She wondered if only she experienced the roar of quantum particles slamming into their shields, or if the others heard the banshee scream of high energy doing its damnedest to breach their protective barrier and de-molecularize them all.
The wave began to lose coherency, and the shuttle nosed ahead. Exultation surged in thundering pulses from her heart. Darkening sky signified their approach to the mesosphere as the thinning atmosphere scattered less sunlight. They maintained escape velocity, tore through the thermosphere, breached the exosphere and shot into the blackness of space. A dazzling sun shone with brilliant, golden radiance off their starboard quarter.
“Woohoo!” Her high-pitched squeal of survivor triumph ricocheted around the cabin. “Who’s up for that again?”
Eugen, Dovzshak, and Ragnon all regarded her with strained expressions.
“Can we keep this?” she asked Eugen.
“The Alliance will, Sandrea. It will need to be analysed.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing you’re gonna need humans to fly it.” He turned a rather nasty shade of pale. “Are you alright?”
Apprehension continued to spark in his eyes, but he nodded.
“You can reduce our acceleration now,” he said. “The destroyers have claimed a kill.”
“They got it?”
“It is confirmed.”
She powered back and turned her gaze to the two privates and the now visible, scrawny laraxdon that huddled behind Dovzshak.
“Looks like you’ve got yourself a pet, Dov.”
“Pet?”
“Yes, pet, don’t sound so incredulous. Don’t Angrigans have pets?”
“Sure we do, just not ones that can rip our throats out.”
“Where’s the fun in that? Did the transport make it?”
“Yes,” Eugen replied. “Within minutes it will dock on the En-Da. We will follow.”
“Right then.” She relaxed into her seat with growing familiarity. “Tell me the way.”
Chapter 17
“ . . . Where the Bolt of Cupid Fell”
Fear stalked Mhartak.
For the past five days he’d watched with growing unease as Sandrea distanced herself from him. They’d barely spent two hours together in private. She busied herself with the comfort and care of her countrymen and the Gaillings. Her preoccupation with the humans from the moment the fighter had docked on the battle cruiser savaged his emotional balance. As soon as they’d landed, she’d rushed off with barely a word in his direction.
Coordinating and implementing a defensive cordon to integrate the new territory gained by the Alliance strike into Bluthen space consumed a large amount of his time. Yet whenever a spare moment presented and he sought her out, she seemed . . . aloof, unwilling to engage with him on even a social level.
He hadn’t touched her intimately in days.
The bond developing between her and the human, Rod, felt like a serrated blade tearing at his connection with her, ripping them apart inch by painful inch. Her interactions with the man often emphasized his own lack of understanding of Earth’s social intricacies. A joke or inference shared between Rod and Sandrea would totally miss his grasp.
In their company, he found himself an outsider in his own world.
He’d withdrawn from their discussions on colonizing a moon with Earth-like qualities and retreated into reading their reports. He hadn’t doubted she loved him when her commitment to him was based on the assumption that all ties with her origins were conclusively severed. But now . . . her restrained behaviour rocked the very foundations of his heart. Even in sleep she seemed distant, turned away from him, keeping to her side of the bed.
She’d prolonged the agony of the biosync simply to find these people. The mere fact of their proximity would call to her genetic makeup.
She would want to be with her own kind.
He would sacrifice it all for her—his life, his career, anything, but the cultural chasm between them seemed to widen with every breath he took.
He had to let her go.
The shattering wreck of his dream of a life together sliced deep within his heart. Desolation clawed through his chest, constricted his lungs, and robbed him of all thought but the need to survive past the fracturing of his soul.
Sandrea sat in the passenger seat of an interplanetary transport and stared at nothing.
Two weeks. How the hell am I supposed to survive without Eugen for two weeks?
Once this craft left the En-Da, the battle cruiser was headed elsewhere. Around her the subdued Gaillings and humans settled in for the journey to their new home. Dexter’s tummy warmed her shoulder, his gentle snores a comforting refrain humming below her ear.
“Ambassador?”
She ran over the proposals she, Rod, Kat, and Behdahn had cobbled together for the combined settlement on New Earth. They would be happier there than on the Angrigan home world. Mrilala, though beautiful to the Angrigan eye, was mostly arid mountains and very little rainfall.
“Ambassador?”
T’Hargen’s flair for organization saw to it that his offer for prefab buildings, food, and fuel would be waiting on New Earth when they arrived. Other supplies from the Alliance would arrive over the next few weeks. She wouldn’t be surprised if T’Hargen upped shop and moved from the planet he lived to New Earth. The sparks that flew off him and Kat were . . . entertaining to say the least. The two of them fighting a losing battle against their attraction would keep her mind off missing Eugen—occasionally.
“Excuse me, Ambassador?”
“Sandrea.” Kendril’s voice penetrated her thoughts. “Ensign Higgs is speaking to you.”
Hmm? Oh! Right, Ambassador, that’s me now.
She focused. “Sorry, Ensign. What can I do for you?”
“There’s a transmission for you, Ambassador. General Mhartak.”
Eugen! A smile danced to her lips. Heck, we’ve only just cleared the hanger deck. Couldn’t do without me for two minutes, huh?
She unclipped her harness and followed the ensign through the seated rows of refugees to the relative privacy of the unoccupied aft section of the craft. The ensign tapped a small viewscreen and Eugen’s image appeared.
“There you go, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Ensign.”
She turned her smile to Eugen and her delight faltered. He looked all . . . stoic. A muscle twitched in his cheek.
Something is wrong.
“Sandrea.”
“Yes?”
He opened his mouth. Hesitation flickered in his eyes.
“You experienced no difficulties with your departure?” he asked.
Should they?
A shiver of apprehension trickled down her nape. “No. I believe we’ll be clear of the Vega’s sub-space field in a few minutes. Were you expecting trouble?”
“No! No, I . . . I’ve received a communiqué to advise T’Hargen’s supplies have landed on New Earth.”
Great. Christ, Eugen, you’re scaring me.
“That’s wonderful. We’ll be able to start work straight away, keep everybody’s mind busy.”
“Yes. Have you . . . have you everything you need?”
She stared at him. Something was seriously wrong. Her eyes searched the frame of her view of him for a threat. But even if Eugen had a gun pointed to his head, he wouldn’t act this, this . . . what? Distressed?
“Eugen—”
“I . . .”
She waited for him to continue. His clamped jaw worked in agitation. For a fleeting
moment his beautiful, green eyes hardened with—
Terror?
“Spit it out, Eugen. What’s troubling you?”
His nostrils flared.
“Sandrea . . . I understand your attachment to me was based on the unavailability of suitable partners.”
Dreadful premonition stomped through her gut.
What the fuck was this about?
“I realize that now—” His voiced petered out. His throat worked a swallow. “—that now those parameters have changed so your preferences may have altered.” He cleared his throat. “Should you decide to remain on New Earth, I will, of course, honour your decision.”
He wanted her to stay away?
No, that couldn’t be right.
“You want me to remain on New Earth?”
His mouth opened, closed, then his lips sealed together in a strong line. A long, harsh breath lifted his chest. “Yes.”
Shock and astonishment held her captive, chilling the marrow in her bones. She stared at the viewscreen while pain pushed strangling tentacles through her heart.
“Eugen, I—”
“I must go,” he interrupted. “Good-bye. And thank you.”
The connection severed.
Anguish carved a deep hollow through her chest.
He didn’t love her?
The hell he didn’t. He went into water, faced down a deep, primal fear for her, not some alien useful to the Alliance. He’d done nothing but look out for her from the moment they’d met. She cast her mind back over the past few days, revisiting every scene with Eugen and examining every nuance of his reactions.
A pattern of withdrawal emerged. One she’d missed because of her determined attempts not to be a distraction from his busy schedule. She closed her eyes, dropped her head back on her neck, and groaned. That space she’d given him was the cause of her problems.
He thought she preferred the company of humans.
Fuck!
She stiffened. Her eyes snapped open, then narrowed with suspicion. Angry disbelief seared through her.
No! He thought she preferred the company of Rod.
Goddamn it! This was about him being bloody noble.
He was standing aside so she wouldn’t feel obliged . . . God, she loved that man, but she was going to wring his neck! She stalked back through the craft.
“Rod,” she ground out at him in passing, “there’ll be a delay.”
“Trouble?” Kat asked.
“There will be.”
Fierce determination surged through her veins and she stormed into the cockpit.
“Turn us around, Lieutenant, we’re going back to the ship.”
“Sorry, Ambassador, we can’t do that,” the pilot dismissed.
The bastard didn’t even glance at her.
“We’re on a schedule,” he continued. “Whatever piece of clothing or jewellery you’ve left behind can be forwarded to your destination.”
Wild fury ripped through her. She needed to get to her mate and some self-important, little upstart would not thwart her. She buried her hands in his clothing, hauled him around to face her, and shoved her face into his.
“Turn this damn craft around now!”
Dexter’s unsheathed tail pointing at the Magran’s neck may have had something to do with his hasty compliance. Or it could have been the homicidal gleam in her eye.
Mhartak roamed the corridors of the ship in a complete daze, functioning on automatic. He tried to focus on the logistics of building further on the advantage they’d gained over the Bluthen, but memories of Sandrea laughing with him, loving him haunted his mind. The loss of a future he coveted above all else tore him apart.
Their—his—quarters appeared before him. The door opened to a touch he couldn’t remember executing. His feet drew him to their bed. He stared at the covers, but all he could see was Sandrea, her naked body glowing with satisfaction, her eyes alight with love. His shaking hands wrapped around her pillow and crushed it to his face. Hungry for any particle of her, he dragged in a long, deep, breath, his lacerated heart soaking in her scent.
“I think you’d better explain yourself, Eugen.”
Dear g’Nel, now I’m hearing her voice.
“Eugen?”
Uncertainty corkscrewed through his insides. He turned slowly toward the door, afraid to face a dream that could not withstand the evidence of reality.
Sandrea marched toward him and poked him in the chest. “Were you lying when you said you loved me?” she demanded.
“No!”
“Then what’s your problem?”
Disbelief swamped his senses. He reached out and touched her.
She was real.
His eyes roamed her face, drank in her every feature.
“Goddamit, Eugen! How dare you! What the hell sort of fickle piece of space slut do you think I am? You think I tell all and sundry I love them?”
She was real. She was here. She was very annoyed.
Joy held him immobile. Her fist raised and thumped him in the chest.
“Answer me, dammit!”
The depth of her anger answered every doubt, healed every self-inflicted emotional wound. Elation blazed through his restraint. His arms shot out and lashed around her in an embrace just shy of imprisonment. Her stiff figure warned him that her temper was not improving. Her head reared back and she glared up at him.
“I’m waiting, Eugen.”
His mind raced.
How am I to get out of this?
“I, ah . . .”
“You what, Eugen Mhartak?”
He really shouldn’t be pleased she was livid with him. She pushed her hands against his chest and her glare intensified.
“You thought I’d taken one look at a human male and decided you weren’t good enough for me, didn’t you?”
The effort to keep an elated smile from his lips proved a serious challenge. The thought occurred to him that his lips could be far better occupied.
“Don’t even think about it, General, I am most severely displeased with you.”
He smiled, couldn’t help it.
“Perhaps you would let me make it up to you?” he enticed and tried to draw her rigid form closer.
He waited for her lips to part in tart reply and responded to the chance. Cradling her head, he commandeered her mouth and poured every ounce of his love and passionate devotion into his kiss. She softened against him, and then he felt her make a grab for her anger. He lifted his head and gazed down at her with solemn contrition.
“I am truly sorry, my love.” He caressed a thumb pad across her cheek.
“Humph,” she snorted, then mellowed. “Why did you think that, Eugen?”
“You have been so remote.”
She rolled her eyes. “I was trying not to cling.”
“My love?”
Her sigh moved her breasts against his chest with delightful pressure. His cranial ridges flushed with pleasure.
“I figured you’d be pretty busy with all that’s happened. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to me as well.”
“Obligated?” He frowned and ran his hands down her back to cup the round firmness of her buttocks.
“I knew you’d have loads to do and I didn’t want you to think I— Eugen, that’s most distracting.”
“Is it?” He bent his head and nibbled her neck while his hands continued to massage.
“You do realize you’re man-handling an Ambassador, don’t you?”
“Really?” he murmured, not diverted from his purpose.
“Yes, really.” Her head rolled back to allow him greater access to the tender, receptive skin at the side of her throat.
“Well, what would th
e Ambassador care to dine on this evening?” he asked dutifully between sipping kisses.
“You.”
He smiled. “That can be arranged.”
“Oh no! I can’t stay. I’ve got to go to New Earth and coordinate things.”
He straightened and gazed down into her beloved face. “How did you return to the ship?”
“I threatened the pilot.”
A grin pulled his lips wide. “I imagine Dexter backed you up?”
“Ah-huh. I don’t know who scared him more, Dexter or me. Of course, it could have been Kendril unclipping her sidearm.”
He threw his head back and laughed with all the joy bubbling through him. “I may have to promote her to sergeant.”
A voice from the comm-system interrupted and he answered. “Yes, Captain?”
“Will the Ambassador be delayed much longer?”
He gazed down into Sandrea’s eyes, their love cocooning them in a mantle of happiness.
“Must you go?”
“You know I do.”
Disappointment pushed a sigh from his lungs. “I suppose so. I will miss you.”
Her warm hands clasped his face and her regard drilled deep into him. “Eugen, you are more of a man than any man I have ever met. Understood?”
The grace of Sandrea’s love, her commitment, fired his every sense. Too moved to speak, he nodded.
“Good, I’ll be back before you know it.”
New Earth proved to be all the refugees could have wished for. Abundant wildlife, water, forests and sub-tropical to temperate weather made the place a veritable Eden. The site on the shores of a large freshwater lake chosen for their prime settlement delivered everything the files promised. Over the next twelve days, Sandrea worked herself to the bone. She listened to the refugees’ stories and told her own as they set up their village. She arranged for those who wished for an Alliance translator implant to receive one from the doctor temporarily assigned to them, and stood support for any who preferred her company during an examination.
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