by S. E. Smith
“So, what was so important that it was worth getting caught in a snowstorm?” she curiously asked.
“My transport,” he replied.
She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Your bike is in the ravine?” she asked with surprise.
“Yes,” he answered.
“O-kay. I guess that explains why you were stuck. How the hell you got it down there in the first place amazes me. There is a trail that leads up to the ridge where you can cross the river. Mason had the old bridge replaced last year, so if you get it back up to the top, it won’t fall through. The best thing would probably be to take a truck and trailer and pick it up along the highway. I can’t imagine why you’d take a street bike off road, but I’ve seen stranger things,” she mused.
“How did you find me?” he asked.
“Bobby, one of the part-time guys, saw you go into the woods. He flagged me down as we passed each other to warn me that he saw someone and wanted to make sure you were authorized to be there. I knew it was you from his description. We’d better get moving. The snow is getting heavier,” she replied.
What she didn’t tell him was that she had seen fading ribbons of red light leading into the woods. She had quickly saddled the mare and one of the geldings and followed the ribbon trail to the ravine. Her heart nearly dropped to her feet when she noticed the trail of light disappear over the edge. She lost sight of it in the mist rising from the river.
If that wasn’t strange enough, there had been the voice in her head. It—Adalard—sounded as if he actually spoke to her. Ever since she had picked him up this morning, weird things were happening—things she didn’t understand.
With everything else going on in her life right now, she didn’t have time for crazy distractions. She touched her heels to the mare’s side, picking up the pace. The snow was steadily falling and beginning to accumulate. She needed to get the horses back to the barn and brush them down, and then tape up the busted window on her truck and speak to Mason before she had the pleasure of trying to get down the mountain to deal with her brothers once and for all.
Besides, picking up the pace also gave her a reprieve to come to terms with their kiss. There was a definite spark between them—one that was going to be hard to ignore.
She accepted the fact that for some weird reason, she was physically attracted to Adalard. It wasn’t as if she was oblivious or ignorant about these kinds of things. Hell, with five older brothers, she saw and heard enough to nauseate the strongest of dispositions.
What puzzled her was why. He was everything she tried to avoid. He had that same air of danger—an authority issue—about him that her brothers did. Well, except for Brit. He was just a dumbass that followed the others.
Forty minutes later, they emerged near the barn. She dismounted, and still gripping the mare’s reins, walked over to the barn door and opened it. Adalard dismounted and led the gelding in behind her. Once they were inside, she slid the door closed.
“You can put him in any of the empty stalls. I’ll take care of them,” she stated, leading the mare into an empty stall.
“I will help,” he replied.
She was about to argue but one look at his face told her that it would be useless. Instead, she shrugged and focused on removing the mare’s saddle, blanket, and reins. She placed the equipment outside of the stall and picked up a brush.
“Thank you—for coming for me,” he said.
She looked over the mare’s back and chuckled. “You sound like that was difficult to say,” she commented.
“What was difficult to say?” he asked.
“Thank you,” she replied.
He was silent for a moment before he chuckled. “Yes, I guess it did sound that way,” he reflected.
“Why? Don’t people do things for you?” she curiously asked.
“Yes, all the time,” he replied.
She paused in brushing the mare and gave him a pointed look. “And do you thank them?” she inquired.
He frowned and gazed back at her with a mild expression of confusion. “No, why should I? They are doing what they should be,” he responded.
She shook her head and resumed brushing the mare. “Well, that was spoken like a true Prince with a gold spoon shoved up his ass,” she muttered, wincing when she realized he had heard her.
Thirty minutes later, she closed the stall door. She waited while Adalard did the same. He was good with the gelding.
“Do you have horses where you live?” she asked in a curious voice.
“The animals we ride are different on Ceran-Pax than they are here. They are larger and have thick, leathery hides instead of soft hair,” he said.
She stopped and faced him. “Ceran-Pax? Is that like—a city? What country is it in?” she asked.
Her curiosity changed to confusion when he caressed her cheek, and his expression conveyed that he was torn about telling her something. She remembered Wilson having the same look in his eyes before he told her everything would be alright. By morning, he was gone.
“I find it impossible to lie to you. There are things I want to tell you, but I don’t think you are ready to believe me yet,” he confessed.
“Adalard, if you are in some kind of trouble….” Her voice faded when he shook his head.
“I have something I must take care of before I tell you more. Until then, I ask that you trust me when I tell you that I mean you no harm,” he said.
“Well, that’s a relief,” she mumbled.
He reached out and gripped her hand when she started to turn away. She blinked in surprise when he bent forward and gave her a hard, brief kiss before he stepped back, opened the door, and disappeared, leaving her staring mutely at the door.
She lifted a hand and touched her lips. That was the third time today that he had kissed her. It had been a while since she had kissed a man this much, especially on the same day!
“Holy moly, but I don’t need this right now,” she muttered with a shake of her head.
She groaned when she saw that the snow was really beginning to stick. Her truck seat was probably frozen. Even with the heat, she would end up with a wet ass unless she covered it with a horse blanket.
Cursing under her breath, she headed for her truck. She would have to drive it that way down to Mason’s place. At least there, she could pull it under the pole barn and work on it.
She pulled her heavy leather gloves out of the pockets of her coat and was in the process of putting them on when she reached the driver’s side and looked up. She almost fell when she lurched to a sudden stop. She stared in shock, reached out, and touched the solid piece of glass.
“How the hell—?” she breathed, running her gloved fingers along the smooth glass.
She pulled the door open, examining the other side. The window looked as if it were brand new. A soft glow pulled her attention away from the window to the seat. Her lips parted on a soft gasp when she saw the flower on the worn upholstery. She pulled off her glove and picked up the bloom. Studying the intricate violet petals and bright yellow leaves, she marveled at the colors. The petals reminded her of Adalard’s eyes. She had never seen a flower like this in her life.
She switched the flower to her other hand and gently caressed the center bud that was pulsing with light. The petals slowly opened and revealed the truck key. A small puff of fog surrounded it when she gasped again.
“How in the hell did you do this?” she mumbled.
“I’m an alien from another world.” Adalard’s words suddenly filled her mind. Her cold fingers trembled as she continued to caress the bloom. She had never been into science fiction, but if she had, she suspected that this was what an alien flower might look like. She carefully extracted her truck key from the center of the flower.
I told you that I could not lie to you.
“Holy shit!” she croaked out when Adalard’s husky, accented voice filtered through her mind.
She hastily tossed the flower onto the passenger seat, climbed into her truck, and slamm
ed the door shut. Her hand shook as she tried to insert the key into the ignition. It took her three tries before she was successful. Twisting the key, she started the engine.
Cold air blasted her, causing her to shiver uncontrollably. She lifted her hands to her mouth, blowing warm air across her cold fingers before pulling on her glove. Her mind was whirling as she thought about everything that had happened since this morning.
Adalard walking along the highway, the strange swirling colors, the thing he did to Gary’s truck, Jerry’s pale, shaken complexion after their little talk, and Adalard’s insistence on going to the ravine. Her eyes widened with a sudden suspicion.
“Motorcycle, my ass!” she hissed.
Chapter Eleven
Isla Asteroid Base: Heron Prime
Hamade Dos strode along the polished stone floor of the corridor. The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows on the contrasting rough-rock walls. He passed by two technicians repairing an electrical panel before turning left into a small room filled with equipment.
Lesher stood when he entered and silently nodded to him. Hamade glanced at the two-headed Tiliqua, who looked up from where he was soldering a circuit board, and then he studied the slender woman standing in front of a tall cylinder. She was softly speaking to the moving mass of dark matter inside the tank.
He waited for her to finish. The dark mass strained against the glass, trying to burst through it. Hamade could see her shimmering eyes in the glass’s reflection.
“What news do you have?” she dispassionately demanded as she turned and faced him.
“None—yet, Empress,” he replied.
He kept his expression neutral as she walked over to him and stared into his eyes. Sweat glistened on his brow as intense pain spread throughout his body. It felt as if his blood was beginning to boil. The heat vanished when she looked away.
“What happened?” she asked.
He followed her when she resumed walking. She left the small, contained lab and turned left. He stepped up beside her.
“The tracking device placed on Prince Adalard’s transport malfunctioned. There was a visual report of his warship leaving Valdier airspace. The spy we have onboard the Rayon I has not reported in,” he explained.
She quickly turned around and placed her hand against his chest, over his heart. He clenched his jaw to keep from groaning when the sensation of something crawling along his flesh spread outward from her hand. She studied his expression.
“Failure will not be tolerated this time, Hamade,” she stated.
He briefly nodded, breathing a sigh of relief when she removed her hand, turned, and continued walking. He rubbed his chest and followed her into another room. The spartanly decorated room was one of the few containing a window that looked out into space.
“Until our spy reports in, there is no way to know if the other device worked,” he said.
“I’m well aware of that. I want a report the moment you locate Adalard Ha’darra,” she replied.
Hamade hesitated before he spoke. “What about Ha’ven Ha’darra?” he demanded.
The Empress turned and looked at him with a wintry glare. “Do not let sentiment impede the Order. Kejon was reckless. That is why he is dead,” she coldly stated.
Hamade bowed his head. “My apologies, Empress. I will inform you the moment I have more information,” he replied.
“See that you do,” she answered with a dismissive wave of her hand.
He kept his head bowed as he backed out of the room. The moment he was in the corridor, he breathed deeply and rolled his shoulders to ease his tension. He lifted his hand and sullenly flexed his fingers.
For years, Adalard Ha’darra had evaded every trap set and assassin sent by him. The bastard was as slippery as his two brothers. His brother, Kejon, had implemented a plan that ended in deadly failure. Since Adalard’s location was still unknown, he had to put his assassination plans on hold. The Empress also had her own plans for Adalard’s twin brother, Arrow.
“General Dos, the ship is ready,” Lesher said, pulling him back to the present.
He gave Lesher a sharp nod. “Very well. I want to know the last documented location of the Rayon I,” he snapped.
“Yes, General,” Lesher replied.
Paul Grove’s Ranch: Earth
“What’s wrong?” Arrow demanded, sliding into the chair in front of the vidcom.
Adalard scowled at his twin. “What makes you think there is something wrong?” he tersely responded.
Arrow raised an eyebrow and stared at him in silence. Adalard muttered a curse and sighed. His mind was not on his brother or the issue with his transport, but on Samara.
Arrow waved his hand at the screen then pointed at himself. “Twins—remember? Besides, you only get that twitch above your left eye when you feel out of control,” he answered with a grin.
“I don’t have a twitch,” he retorted even as he lifted a hand to his twitching brow. He sighed and sat back. “I’ve found my mate.”
“You—hold on,” Arrow sputtered as he choked on the sip he had just taken from his drink. He coughed and cleared his throat before gasping out, “You what?”
“I said I’ve found my mate,” he growled, sitting forward.
Arrow wiped his hand across his mouth. “I thought that was what you said. It must be a human. You’ve worked with every woman on board the Rayon I before. Who is she? What’s she like? What did it feel like? What symptoms did you have? Did you have any sensations of disorientation or nausea? Is she like Emma?” he excitedly questioned, then added. “I like Emma.”
Adalard shook his head and grimaced. “I said I found my mate, not some unknown disease! She is—different from Emma, but similar in some ways,” he reluctantly shared.
“What are the similarities and differences? Are they physical or mental? Are you able to connect with her the way Ha’ven can with Emma? Have you had sex with her yet?” Arrow continued.
“Will you shut up with the questions? No, I haven’t had sex with her. I only met her today,” he snapped.
Arrow shook his head. “Like that has ever stopped you before. How did she react to you?” he asked.
“Good… I guess,” he grudgingly said.
“You don’t sound too sure. What happened? I wonder if I would have the same reaction to her. You know, like the Twin Dragons. It could be possible that she is also my mate,” Arrow mused.
“Never!” Adalard snarled.
He wasn’t even aware of lashing out at his brother until his fist passed through the vidcom’s holographic image and struck the wall, leaving an impression in the wood paneling. He pulled his hand back and shook it.
Arrow stared at him with a thoughtful, excited expression. “Interesting, very interesting,” he murmured.
Adalard shook his head. “I’m not one of your experiments, Arrow. Enough about Samara for now, I have another issue that I need your devious brain for,” he grumbled, rubbing his bruised knuckles.
“Samara… I like that name,” Arrow said with a nod.
“Will you please focus? There is a device on my transport that is sucking the energy from me. What kind of device can do that, and how can I stop it from draining me so I can find the damn thing?” he snapped.
Arrow’s eyes widened with shock, and he leaned forward. “When did that happen? What were you doing when it first started? Damn, I wish I was there,” he groaned.
“I need to ask Mother if she dropped you on your head when you were a baby,” Adalard muttered.
“Ha-ha. Now give me every detail, and don’t leave the smallest thing out,” Arrow ordered.
Three hours later, Samara turned onto the gravel driveway in front of the garage. She wiggled her nose when she saw all of her brothers’ trucks parked out front. There was only one reason they would all be there at this time of the day—they were planning on ganging up on her.
She had expected that. Her talk with Mason an hour ago went better than she could have hoped. Mason was a
llowing her to live in the apartment above the barn. Instead of Samara paying rent, he said that her presence would be doing him a favor. It would be good to have the space lived in, he said. His only hesitation was her timeline. He wanted her to wait a few weeks. It wasn’t hard to deduce what he really meant—wait until Adalard was gone.
She had pressed home the fact that it made sense that she should move in sooner rather than later. Bear needed additional help, and with winter coming, there was a lot of additional preparation that needed to be done. He had reluctantly agreed after she mentioned that she was meeting Bear the next evening for dinner and could discuss everything with him.
Mason was surprisingly cheerful about her upcoming date, asking her questions that she really didn’t know how to answer. For some reason, the idea that she and Bear were a couple appeared to put him at ease. Whatever worked was good enough for her. The sooner she was out of this house, the better. If that meant misleading Mason into thinking she and Bear were an item, then so be it.
She pulled into the garage and turned off the ignition. Drawing a deep breath, she held it for a moment before releasing it. She dropped her hand onto the seat beside her and looked down.
The flower Adalard had left for her was still softly glowing. She picked it up and ran her fingertips over the blossom, marveling at how it opened to her touch. She pulled open her coat and slid the flower into the inside pocket before she zipped it up.
“Go in and act like nothing is different. Tomorrow I’ll clean up the apartment. By this weekend, I’ll be out of here once and for all,” she quietly vowed to her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Whatever you do, Samara, don’t lose your cool.”
Once she felt in control, she pushed open the door, stepped out, and smiled as she slid her fingers over the solid piece of window glass. A hint of mischief filled her as she remembered Jerry’s pale, silent retreat to Gary’s truck earlier that day. If Adalard really was an alien and he could do magic like fix broken glass and create strange glowing flowers, maybe he was also capable of dealing with her brothers if she needed it.