He grasped her arm, angry with what she was saying, angry because it echoed what Noni had said.
“Is that what you think?” he demanded. “That I don’t care about them? Why d’you think I’m pushing so hard? I’m to take two complete novices out into the field on an alien world to rescue nine people, that’s why! If it was up to me, I’d take more than six months, maybe as much as a year, to get them properly trained!”
“May be true, but you expect too much! Don’t need to teach them everything. You’re trying to show that you’re the same, that nothing’s changed—that’s what this about! It has—you have. Only you won’t admit it.”
Angrily he pushed her aside, heading back to Stronghold at a pace that wasn’t far short of a run.
Once inside, he hesitated at the temple doors. A month and a half ago, he’d have gone there, but not surprisingly, he was now barred. He continued up the stairs to his suite, going into the bedroom and closing the door. His head hurt, and he massaged his throbbing forehead as he sat down on the bed.
Maybe she was right and he was pushing Kusac too hard, but he couldn’t risk taking them to Jalna untrained. The duty officer had offered to reassign the execution detail to another team, but he’d refused for the very reasons he’d told her—they might have to fight U’Churians, and they were remarkably like Sholans if the Chemerian vids were accurate. T’Chebbi was right that it had been too soon, though, even if Kusac had coped with it.
Kusac had balked when he’d realized why they were there, and had seemed about to object, then, jaws clenched, ears back, he’d stood in line with the rest of the detail. Afterward, he’d refused to talk about it.
Lying down on his bed, Kaid wondered if he should see the physician about the headache but decided against it. He’d only say it was due to his Talent developing and there was nothing he could do.
Were Noni and T’Chebbi right? Was he sinking himself so deeply into his work that he was losing sight of the people involved? For T’Chebbi to openly criticize him like that was unprecedented. Tiredness and pain claimed him, and he was drifting into sleep by the time he heard T’Chebbi enter the lounge next door.
It was dark when he woke. Someone had drawn the drapes and thrown a rug over him—T’Chebbi. Reaching out, he passed his hand over the light sensor till a gentle glow filled the room. He pushed aside the rug, got up, and went to the door, activating it. The lounge was empty.
Instinctively he reached for her mental pattern, then headed downstairs to the refectory. As he got nearer, the smell of hot food made him realize how hungry he was.
Looking around, he located T’Chebbi before going up to the counter to collect a meal, then he joined her.
She acknowledged his presence with a flick of her ear.
“Thank you for looking after me,” he said quietly.
She afforded him only a grunt and continued eating.
Sighing inwardly, he attacked his roast fowl with his knife and fingers.
She waited till he’d finished, then, picking up her plates, got to her feet. He followed her over to the trolley, stacking his dish on top of hers.
“I’m taking a shower,” she said as they left the refectory and headed back toward the entrance hall.
“Use mine,” he said. “Unless you particularly want to use the communal one.”
Again she grunted, but chose to accompany him back to his rooms.
After she’d gone into the bathroom, he sat in the lounge thinking over what she’d said earlier, trying to understand why it had angered him so much. His thoughts kept returning to the few times they’d been intimate and it wasn’t long before he was forced to admit to himself that he’d enjoyed her company. The female side of her he hardly knew at all, and he had been fascinated by it. Almost immediately came the realization that he wanted and valued that side of her.
His decision made, he got up and entered the bedroom. Taking off his robe, he flung it aside and went into the bathroom. Going over to the shower unit, he reached out to touch T’Chebbi’s shoulder, drawing her attention to his presence.
“Would you like some help?” he asked, ears folding back despite his efforts. “It’s easier for me to scrub your back.”
Suspiciously she eyed him over her shoulder, then, picking up the bottle of soap, she handed it to him and moved over to allow him into the shower.
Stepping under the cascading water, he gasped briefly at the suddenness of its heat. T’Chebbi stood with her back to him, tail hanging down till it almost touched the ground, her unbound hair lying forward over her chest.
Pouring some soap onto his hand, he put the bottle back on the rack and began to gently massage it into her pelt, quickly working it into a lather. As he rubbed it into her sides, he watched the soapy waves trickling down to the small of her back, parting on either side of her tail before running down her legs.
He let his mind become still, just enjoying the firmness of her body beneath his hands, letting his massage gradually become a caress. Crouching down, he worked his way lower, smoothing the suds over her flanks, feeling her muscles clench under his hands as he stroked her lower back just around the base of her tail. She turned her head and looked down at him, blinking away the water that clung to her eyelashes.
He let his hands trail around her thighs and as she began to sway, he felt the tension leave her body. Standing up, his hands circled her waist, steadying her, letting his cheek rest against the side of her head.
“Easy there. You should have left it a little longer before showering. The heat’s making you light-headed.”
“Perhaps.”
He slid one hand slowly across her chest, encouraging her to lean against him. “Perhaps you were right,” he said. “Perhaps I care too much and don’t know the way to show it.”
She started to purr, a low sound of pleasure, as his tongue began to lick her ear.
“It’s not lack of caring,” he murmured.
“I know.” She turned round, arms outstretched to hold him. “You needed to.”
Afterward, he lay curled around her, enjoying her body warmth and the quiet contentment that flowed from her to him.
“Will you have him?” she asked.
“Mmm?”
“As sword-brother.”
“Maybe. Why?”
“Does he know what it entails?”
Kaid snorted gently with amusement. “He thinks he does! He’s full of fears and uncertainties now.” He reached out to run his hand through her hair.
“Why? He trusted you before.”
“He didn’t know me before.”
She turned her face till she was looking up at him. “Did either you or Garras ask …” She let her voice trail off into silence.
“No. The situation never arose.”
He sounded unconcerned by her question. She could afford to push the issue. “Would you have?”
“I took the oath with him,” he said. “It wasn’t part of our pact, but had the need been there and he asked, then in those days, yes. You’re very curious all of a sudden.”
“Never had a sword-brother, so don’t know. About Kusac, would you ask him, if the need arose?”
Kaid stretched his body to its full length, tail flicking against her leg. “He’s afraid I might ask,” he yawned. “Afraid of what he’d say.”
“Would you?” she insisted.
“Who knows? He could be the one to need me. Why is it so important for you to know this?”
“Tell him if it’s not part of the ritual. Don’t keep him afraid.”
“He needs to decide what he wants to bring to this relationship. If I tell him that, then he doesn’t need to look inside himself for the answers.”
“Did you do this to Garras?”
He began to laugh softly. “You’ve got it wrong, kitling. Garras did this to me!”
She hadn’t expected that. Somehow she’d always thought Kaid had been the senior.
Kaid reached out for the brush that lay on his night tabl
e and began to run it through the long hank of hair that lay in his other hand. “You know, you do have beautiful hair,” he said in the voice of someone to whom it had just come as a revelation.
“Every time I return, she hopes for a message from you,” T’Chebbi said quietly.
The brush strokes stopped and she felt his body tense. “She?”
“Carrie. Your mate. I’d take a message.”
He didn’t know how to answer her.
“There’s no danger to her or cub now. Visions and memories both stopped.”
He began brushing her hair again, but it was more automatic now. How had she known? He didn’t remember telling anyone of that fear. “I’m not ready to see her yet. I have to get used to the changes in my life—know who I am first.”
She flicked her ears in assent and he sensed that she did understand. “Would it help if I went to him so you could be together?”
“You’d do that?” Her offer shocked him. He saw her frown, concerned at his reaction.
“Is there reason why not?”
“None,” he said hastily, breaking eye contact with her, the hair grooming forgotten. He laid the brush aside. “Would you really go to him for me?”
“Not just, but yes.”
A sudden thought hit him. “Not out of gratitude—you owe me nothing, T’Chebbi, now or in the past.”
Her hand touched his arm. “Not that. Because I want to. Couldn’t approach him any other way—he’s Clan Leader after all. Knowing he’ll have company might make it easier for you both.”
“And fun for you,” he murmured, giving voice to her unspoken thought.
She batted at him, making him start back in surprise. “Stop reading me!” she said, but there was no anger in her voice. “Why not? I have much to offer.”
“Heart failure for one,” he said, rolling over and getting to his feet. “Just don’t use that perfume on him!”
Still lying on her back, she looked over at him as he picked up his robe and began to put it on. “Would you rather I didn’t?”
Kneeling on the bed, he leaned over her and flicked her ear gently with a finger. “You do what feels right for you,” he said. “No, I don’t mind.”
She caught his hand. “Tallinu,” she began, but he stopped her with a shake of his head.
“No. Not now,” he said with finality, carefully releasing himself. “Maybe some day, but not yet.” He stood up again. “Take me to the temple, T’Chebbi. They won’t let me in alone and I need to meditate.”
“At this time of night?” she asked, sitting up, her hair falling in a tawny gray curtain around her face and shoulders.
“Yes, now. Please.”
From his bed, Kezule watched Keeza through half-closed eyes. Her presence puzzled him. Originally she’d been left to nurse him, and, he surmised, as a punishment for clumsiness. However, she was still here. Since the visit from the medic, no one had been near him. Food had arrived at the usual times, for him, but there had been none of the cooked carrion her people ate. Did they expect him to feed her out of his rations? Evidently. He’d tested the theory by starving her for several days and sleeping only for short intervals. Nothing. No food was slipped in while they supposed him to be asleep.
She’d found a corner in the room that she considered the most defendable and had kept to it, dragging a couple of spare dining chairs over to make a primitive barricade. It was totally useless, she knew that as well as he did, but it made her feel more secure. He was prepared to let her keep it—for now.
Like him, she’d attempted to stay awake but had soon succumbed to exhaustion. She sat there now, her head slowly drooping toward her knees until, with a sudden jerk, she pulled herself upright again.
A noise from the feeding cage drew his attention. He decided to remain “asleep” and see what she’d do. Hunger and sheer desperation had to drive her to some action soon. A frantic scrabbling heralded the arrival of his meal. He remained still, watching, waiting.
Keeza’s ears pricked up as she heard the noise. Her nose picked up the new scent immediately and she lifted her head to look over to the wall mounted cage. Two chiddoes. She was so hungry she could feel the walls of her stomach touching each other. The thought of eating raw meat didn’t bother her now, what bothered her was not eating. At least she’d managed to get some water while he slept. Picking up her bowl, she took a sip of the stale, lukewarm liquid. To her, it tasted as good as the most expensive off-world wine.
There were two options. Steal a chiddoe now, and face the consequences later, or wait and ask him. If she waited, and he said no, as she fully expected him to do, then he’d be watching her in future and she wouldn’t get an opportunity to steal. Taking it now also meant he’d watch her in future, but at least she’d have eaten one meal. What the hell were they playing at? Why had they left her here without even feeding her? And why wouldn’t they communicate with her? She’d asked herself these questions every day and still had only one logical answer. This had been intended from the first. What were they trying to find out? How a Valtegan killed a Sholan using only his bare hands, or was there more to it?
He was still asleep. She risked moving slightly. No reaction. Slowly she stood up, waited a few moments, then carefully began to move one of her chairs, trying not to let it scrape against the floor. She sidled out. Her legs felt unsteady, but that wasn’t surprising considering how hungry she was and how long it had been since last she’d actually used them. Sitting crushed up inside her barricade hadn’t been easy or comfortable.
Slowly she edged her way over to the cage where the two chiddoes were now small bundles of terrified fur cowering shaking in the corner. Not unlike her own situation, she thought. If they stopped feeding him, would he see her as food? She shuddered and pushed the thought from her mind.
Carefully she lifted the catch, opening the door. Reaching inside, she grabbed hold of one of the creatures, pulling it out and firmly shutting the cage again. She could feel its heartbeat as she held the terrified creature in her hand. Kill it, how could she kill it? It squirmed, trying to get free, and let out one small shriek. She grabbed it in both hands, squeezing them over it and holding it close to her chest in an effort to stifle the sounds it was making. Moving more quickly, she headed back for her fortress. Suddenly its struggles stopped, and it lay still within her grasp. Stopping, she opened her hands. Its head lolled at an impossible angle, sightless eyes staring up at her. Horrified, she would have dropped it but for the fact the Valtegan was looming over her, his large hand closing over hers and the dead chiddoe.
He backhanded her, sending her reeling before he pulled her back and dealt her another blow to the other side of her head.
“Steal my food, would you?” he demanded. “Let your own people feed you, they left you here. Next time, I kill you,” he said, opening his hand to remove the creature from her limp grasp. His next blow sent her staggering against her barricade. She landed awkwardly on top of it, sliding down to the floor in an unconscious heap. Blood seeped slowly from a cut over one rapidly swelling eye.
Turning his back on her, he went to the table and sat down to begin preparing the carcass.
“He’ll kill her,” said Mito anxiously from her post at the other side of the room.
Anders looked questioningly at Zhyaf.
“She’s still with us, unconscious but alive,” he said.
“Why d’you think he did that?” Anders asked the telepath.
“Protecting his territory, reminding her who’s in charge,” he said shortly, turning away from the viewing window to his desk comm.
“Mito?”
“Testing us,” she said, getting up to join him. “Seeing if we’ll react. He knows he’s being watched, his body language tells us that loud and clear.”
“He must still be considering the possibility that she’s a spy for us.”
“I would say so,” she agreed. “He’s not beating her up for his own amusement, or he’d have done it before now. I think he�
�s waiting to see if we’ll intervene on her behalf. He’s letting us know he isn’t prepared to feed her out of his own rations.”
“What’s he likely to do next?”
She shrugged. “Eat.”
“Well, at least he’s finally communicating with her,” Anders sighed.
They watched him prepare the carcass, sprinkling the herb on it before beginning to eat. He repeated the procedure with the second, then returned to his bed.
“Take a break now, Zhyaf,” said Anders. “Get your lunch. Nothing much is likely to happen for a while.”
Zhyaf got up from the bench. “Can I bring you back anything?”
“A selection of sandwiches,” said Mito, “and a jug of coffee. I reckon this is going to be a long shift.”
Pain was the first thing she was aware of when she came to. She tried to open her eyes, panicking until she remembered he’d hit her. Putting a hand experimentally up to her face, she gently probed the blood-encrusted cut on her forehead and the puffy eye beneath it. No wonder she couldn’t open it. Licking her fingers, she gently eased the eyelashes apart and attempted to open her eyes again. Only a crack, but it was enough. She could still see, the Gods be praised!
She tried moving then, unable to stop a groan escaping her as she pulled herself free from the tangle of chairs. Landing on hands and knees, she collapsed to the floor, every muscle and joint a jangle of pain.
“Bring them here,” a harsh, sibilant voice ordered her.
She froze, then lifting her head, looked toward the table where Kezule was finishing his last meal of the day.
“I’ve humored you long enough. It’s over.”
Getting stiffly to her feet, she picked up one of the utilitarian metal chairs and limped over to the table. Keeping her distance, she pushed it toward him then, as swiftly as she could, headed back for the other. When she’d done, she retreated to her corner, head throbbing, body aching.
She watched him eating, the smell of raw meat and fresh blood making her stomach growl with hunger. When he looked in her direction, she drew her legs up, wrapped her arms around them, and buried her face against her knees. She did not want him noticing her.
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