Amorous Overnight

by Robin L. Rotham

  After a long moment, Tysan set down his case on the bed and removed an accelerator gun.

  “Hastion, am I correct in assuming the minister did this to you?” he asked mildly as he dabbed regeneration gel over his neck and chest.

  “You are.”

  Tysan began pressing the accelerator against him in seven-second treatments. “Some of the minister’s actions over the last few months…concern me.”

  Hastion looked at Tysan long enough to see his worried frown. “I was a willing participant, Tysan, I just… In the heat of the moment, we both abandoned discretion.”

  Tysan blew out a relieved breath. “I’m glad to hear it. You are a male of much worth.”

  “Am I?”

  “If you don’t know it, you’re the only one who doesn’t. The flamboyant style with which you humbled Ensign Mikal and his cohorts has made you something of a legend over the past few weeks.”

  When Hastion stared at him in disbelief, Tysan grinned. “Mikal has requested a transfer, but he’ll be hard-pressed to find an outpost where news of his ‘asshole’ status hasn’t preceded him.”

  Heat surged into Hastion’s face again and he ducked, scratching his head. Something of a legend, for Peserin’s sake?

  “That hand looks rather nasty too,” Tysan remarked.

  Hastion glanced at it, flexing his bruised, swollen fingers. “I hit a pillar.”

  “If it was a pillar or Minister Cecine, I applaud your choice.” He set the accelerator on the bed. “Let me put some gel—”

  “No, thank you,” Hastion said quickly, reluctant to give up this particular mark, though he couldn’t have said why. Perhaps as a reminder not to throw a punch at the minister.

  “Are you sure? It looks painful.”

  “It’s fine.”

  Tysan shrugged and packed away the accelerator. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing each other again soon. Good night, Hastion.”

  Hastion nodded and then watched him walk out. He would have liked to ask a few more questions about Shelley’s condition, but the semen drying on his abdomen and scrotum made bathing seem like a better idea.

  Walking into the bath, he stripped off his pants and dumped them in the sanitizer before stepping into the shower. Whether it was the cool water or a reaction to his time with the minister setting in, he wasn’t sure, but he began to shake. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he shuddered. Peserin, could his life get any more complicated?

  He quickly washed, scrubbing away the semen, and then dressed in a clean pair of mabi pants. But he was too restless to sleep so he stepped out onto the deck. It was completely dark, with only the sound of the sea to distract him.

  He walked over and put his hands on the rail. Holy Powers, what was wrong with him that he could orgasm from such minimal stimulation? He’d always felt like a freak among his own kind and now, legend status notwithstanding, he felt it even more. Would the minister discuss it with the doctors, get them to examine him and see why this happened to him? It hardly bore thinking about.

  He’d give anything to talk to Shelley about what had happened with the minister, to let her comfort and reassure him. But right now she needed his comfort and reassurance.

  If she would ever accept it.

  Settling onto one of the low deck chairs, he lay back and stared up at the sky. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was a long, sleepless night during which Shelley did way too much crying. After making sure Cecine had left the house, she went downstairs and had breakfast with the twins and Tara in the dining room. She held her daughter close, treasuring every moment with her. Wyatt was on the floor beside her, already pushing up to stand as he hung on to the furniture. They were both advanced for human babies less than six months old. They should barely be sitting up on their own yet.

  How much would they change while she was undergoing her transition? More to the point, how much would she? Would they even recognize her when it was over? Surely they would. Monica and Jasmine were both still recognizable after their transitions.

  She needed to get everyone prepared for the coming separation. It was tempting to just lay it all out there for Tara. She was still pissed enough at Cecine to do it. But she’d had a long chat with Tysan the night before—after she yelled at him for his part in the deception, naturally—and she was no longer quite so horrified.

  First he’d confirmed Cecine’s claim that Tiber had supported not informing her of the mating.

  “So this is all Tiber’s fault, huh?”

  Tysan shrugged. “I happened to concur with his opinion. Since all Terran females have a minimum six-month exclusion from intercourse anyway, it would give you time to get to know the minister and Hastion better, and to become more comfortable with them, before having to confront the issue of mating with them.

  “Cecine wasn’t required to claim you, you know,” he added. “He could have sent you back to Earth, or passed you down to another unmated male.”

  Something in her chest eased just a teensy bit. So maybe he hadn’t taken her just to get her children if he could have had them without her.

  Or maybe he just wanted her as a built-in babysitter for them.

  “So could he really have kept them from me?”

  Tysan nodded. “The twins were born aboard a Garathani vessel and are therefore Garathani citizens who require paternal protection. As the ranking unmated male aboard the Heptoral, that duty fell to Cecine. Under our law, he is their father and has full authority over their care.”

  “But what about my authority? I’m their mother.”

  “You have whatever authority he allows you.”

  Her eyes just about bulged out of her head. “Allows me? Are you kidding me?”

  “I am not.”

  “So you’re telling me that if I decided to take my kids and go home today—”

  “You would have to request Cecine’s permission, and I doubt he’d grant it. Males take their responsibility to their mates and their young very seriously. He can’t properly protect them on Earth, therefore he won’t allow them to live there.”

  It took her a moment to find her voice. “That’s outrageous.”

  “That’s our law. Mates and young must be protected, and no one can protect them better than the minister. You have no idea how fortunate you and the twins are that he was aboard when you delivered.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ll have to agree to disagree about that for the moment,” she said tersely. “So tell me about these brain-dead women Monica was talking about.”

  “How did she find out about them?”

  “I have no idea. Talk.”

  He narrowed his eyes but explained, “All the families of the women involved donated their bodies for our research on the condition that we do everything we can to heal them. In point of fact, we’ve returned more women completely or mostly recovered than we’ve kept. The ones we retained for research have no discernible brain activity, but we treat them as though they do. They’re kept clean, comfortable and modestly covered, and given the same pain control measures aware patients would receive. If you like, I’ve been authorized to give you a tour of the Heptoral’s med lab so you can see for yourself that they’re not being harmed in any way.”

  “That would probably be good. So the process isn’t some ugly surprise you intend to spring on the recruits?”

  “What would be the point? They’re already able to accommodate us.”

  When he put it like that, she felt a little silly for getting so flipped out.

  “But we had thousands of applications from females who were too small to accommodate us,” he continued. “It was incredibly frustrating to have to turn away willing females. This process is an alternative we can offer them, as well as an opportunity to increase our pool of recruits.”

  All of which made sense. But it was his mortality statistics that reassured her more than anything. None of the patients who were in any decent sort of physical shape had died becau
se of the process. Most had emerged from it in better condition. Shelley was young, fat and fit as hell, the perfect storm of experimental readiness.

  “I can’t make any guarantees, of course, but I would be utterly shocked if you died,” he’d declared.

  Which didn’t mean that she couldn’t die. But then she could choke on a piece of alien mystery meat and die right here at the breakfast table. She could fall down the stairs and break her neck. She could get hit by a meteor. Living meant you risked dying.

  So now Shelley was almost sanguine about the process, but she didn’t think it was a good idea to go spreading the word. The recruits might overreact the same way she had.

  She looked at Tara. “I have a favor to ask you.”

  “Okay…” Tara said warily.

  “I’m going to be in the hospital for a few days.”

  Her eyes widened. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

  Shelley shook her head. “No, it’s…a procedure I need to have done. If I don’t, I’ll die.”

  “Oh…God.” Tara swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I’m not really feeling that bad. The only reason I told you is that I might not be in any shape to see the twins for a few days. I’m going to see if we can get Janelle here to help you with them while I’m gone, but if you could give them some extra loving for me…?”

  “Of course,” Tara said, her eyes full of sympathy. “I couldn’t love them more if they were my own.”

  “Thank you. That makes me feel better.” She sighed and then put on a bright smile. “So let’s go to the beach again today. The babies love the water.”

  At that moment, Hastion showed up, looking wan in a white tunic and pants. He just stood in the doorway looking at her.

  After a long pause, Shelley sighed. “Tara, would you—”

  “I’ll just go get the kids ready for the beach.” She gathered up the twins and rushed by Hastion without looking at him.

  Out of the blue, it hit Shelley—was Tara in love with Hastion? Was that why she’d been so bitchy for so long?

  Of course! It totally fit. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? The very first time Tara got pissy with her was when she and Janelle caught her making out with Hastion, and she’d gotten even more pissy since seeing them on the beach together.

  Aw! Now she felt like crap. Poor Tara. That’s why she wasn’t in a hurry to get to her new mates. What a freaking mess.

  Hastion took a shuddering breath and then moved into the room. He walked over and sank to his knees beside Shelley’s chair, then just sat there on his heels looking up at her, his blue eyes dull with misery.

  “Oh, Hastion,” she finally said, pushing her fingers through his thick brown hair. It had already grown out enough not to stick up on top.

  “I didn’t know,” he whispered.

  “I know.”

  “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too.”

  He wrapped his arms around her hips and laid his head in her lap. “Please don’t die.”

  Having recently made the same request of him, she smiled as she stroked his head with both hands. “I’m not going to die.” I hope. “Talk to Tysan—he’ll explain it. So are you going to the beach with us?”

  He looked up. “You wish me to accompany you?”

  “Yes, I wish it. I’m sorry I got so angry at you last night.”

  “You had every right to be upset. You should have been informed as soon as it became apparent you were attracted to both of us.”

  “Hastion, I know it was a group effort, and that you didn’t have any choice.”

  “But you’re still upset,” he said, searching her face.

  “With Cecine, not you.”

  “I’m a bit upset with him myself.” His expression darkened. “If anything happens to you…”

  “Shh.” She kissed his lips, and then kissed him again. “Nothing is going to happen to me. And if it did, you’d need to kiss and make up with him for the kids’ sake.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something but then shook his head.

  “What?”

  “It’s nothing. We should—”

  “Hastion, talk me,” she commanded. “No more secrets.”

  He hesitated for a moment and then said, “I got quite angry with him last night.” He held out his hand and she gasped. His knuckles were all bruised and swollen.

  “You punched him?” she breathed, taking his fingers between her hands and probing gently. “For me?”

  “I missed, actually, and hit a pillar.”

  She glanced at one of the stone columns. “Ow. That must have hurt.”

  “Not as much as the thought of losing you.”

  Her throat tight with emotion, Shelley gently kissed the backs of his fingers. “Thank you for defending me. You’re not in trouble, are you?” she asked anxiously. Cecine was the minister of the high council, after all.

  He shook his head. “No, but I don’t know if I could ever ‘kiss and make up with him’ if something happened to you.”

  “Yes, you could,” she said firmly. “It’s not his fault the gene therapy did this to me, and if it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t have had me in the first place.”

  “So does that mean you’re ready to kiss and make up with him too?” he asked with a pointed look.

  Sighing, she pushed her chair back and stood up. “No, but I have other issues with him. Now let’s go get the kids. I’m ready to play in the ocean again.”

  Remembering Tara’s situation, Shelley winced.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She thought about telling him and suggesting that they avoid any PDA, but then decided to just leave things alone. Seeing them together like this might be hard on Tara, but it was better than letting her think she had a chance with Hastion.

  She took his hand. “Not a thing.”

  After he’d changed into his brief, Hastion collected Shelley and accompanied her to the nursery. She’d gathered her hair into a tail at the nape of her neck and changed into a pair of short pants and a brief pink shirt, revealing smooth skin that had tanned to a pale gold.

  When they walked in holding hands, Tara’s eyes widened but she said nothing as she picked up the diaper bag, blanket and umbrella.

  At the beach he and Shelley took the naked babies into the water. Wyatt already swam like a fish and would have frolicked out to sea if Hastion hadn’t kept a firm grip on his ankle, but Kallie was more tentative. She clutched her mother’s damp shirt as if she knew they were about to be parted, and Shelley was clearly happy to be clutched, rubbing her daughter’s back and occasionally kissing her wispy blonde curls as she smiled at Wyatt’s antics. Her fierce affection for her babies squeezed Hastion’s heart like a vise.

  Moving closer to her in the waist-deep water, he hooked his free hand behind her neck and leaned down to press his mouth against hers in a lingering kiss. “I adore you,” he whispered.

  “Ditto,” she whispered back. Then she tensed. “Wow, um…I feel…really odd all of a sudden. Like something’s about to happen.”

  “Like what?” Hastion frowned.

  “I don’t know. It just feels…” She swayed. “I need to get out of the water.”

  Before she could turn toward the shore, her eyes rolled back and her body stiffened.

  “Shelley!” Ice slid through Hastion’s gut like an assassin’s blade when she began to twitch violently. This was not happening to him again. “Armitran, summon Dr. Tysan to the beach for an emergency!”

  “Affirmative.”

  Squealing with alarm, Kallie clung to her mother. “Mama, mama!”

  “Tara, come quickly!” Hastion shouted.

  Tara splashed into the water immediately.

  “Take Wyatt and Kallie,” he told her, tightening his hold on Shelley’s neck as her twitches intensified into jerks.

  Once Tara had the wailing twins in hand, he swept Shelley’s convulsing body into his arms and carried her to
the shore. Before he could lay her on the blanket, Tysan emerged from a flare bubble.

  “Peserin’s damnation,” he muttered, setting down his case and pulling out an infuser. Drawing aside the neckline of her wet tank top, he pressed the instrument to the slope of her breast.

  Instantly the seizure ceased and she went lax in Hastion’s arms.

  Hastion pulled her unconscious body even closer. “Shelley, I love you. Please don’t die,” he choked out.

  She moaned softly.

  “She’s not going to die, Ensign, but I think we’d better get her to the ship sooner rather than later.”

  When Shelley woke up aboard the Heptoral, nauseated and aching all over, the first thing she did—after letting Tysan infuse her with something for the pain—was demand that he send for Monica.

  “I sent a request for her when we flared up,” he said.

  “Thank you. It’s not that I don’t trust you…”

  He shrugged. “You don’t. If I were you, I wouldn’t either.”

  “I do trust you, actually. Kind of. But Monica’s…well, Monica,” she finished helplessly.

  Sitting on the other side of the bed, still wearing only his brief, Hastion grinned. “That’s reason enough for me. Will you be all right if I go to my quarters to rinse off the salt and dress?”

  “Sure, spoil the view the minute I get here,” Monica said as she walked in.

  Shelley smiled at him. “I’m fine. Go.”

  He kissed her forehead and then let Monica take his place at her side.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, giving Shelley a tight hug.

  “I’m okay. Just a little scared. Thank you for being here.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re safely through this retroactive make-you-one-of-us thing.”

  “Retrogressive neogenesis,” Tysan corrected.

  “That’s what I said.” Monica’s eyes narrowed. “Quite the collection of patients you’ve got out there, Tysan.”

  Shelley’s room was a three-bed isolation room attached to the med lab. Tysan had offered right away to carry her out and introduce her to the subjects of the experiment, but she’d declined. She was nervous enough already without seeing a couple of dozen brain-dead women in various stages of the process. Time enough to see them after she’d successfully completed her own transition.