Tarkken

by Annabelle Rex

  “I know,” he said. “I need to go home, stay with my family. Recharge. On Hypreznia, where I’m from, being in each other’s minds is just… expected. They are so deep in each other’s heads, they know what each other are feeling almost before they know what they’re feeling themselves. It’s all very… communal.”

  “That sounds…” Marta searched for the words that were honest but inoffensive.

  “It’s okay,” Tarkken said. “You can say it. It sounds horrific to people used to their own space and privacy. It is definitely not the norm across the known Universe. The vast majority of races do not function like mine. But to them, it is normal, and it’s horrific to them to imagine living otherwise. Most of them are only happy living in big groups of others like them.”

  “But not you?” Marta said.

  He shrugged. “Humans have neuro-atypicality, don’t they?”

  “Sure,” Marta said.

  “Well, I’m neuro-atypical for a Hypreznian. All that mental contact…” he shuddered. “I don’t want them inside my head. I don’t want anyone inside my head. It makes me feel like… it’s like insects crawling over my skin.”

  “But it’s not good for you not to have it?”

  “I can live without people reading me, but I need to read other people. And not keeping you out and scanning through the shallows of all those people helped. I feel a lot better. But what I really need is to go deep with someone.”

  “Deep?”

  “Yeah, right down into the formative emotions. The subconscious stuff. It’s very intrusive. I could never intentionally do it to someone without permission, and there’s no one here who’s going to give me permission for that. I’ll have to go home. I should have done it now, really, while everyone is away on the Olympia, but…”

  “But?”

  “I guess I didn’t want to.” Tarkken sighed. “Honestly? I hate going home. Hate being in a room where everyone looks at me and feels at me with pity. Because I’m not like them, and they don’t understand it.”

  “Well, does it have to be a Hypreznian? Would it work if you did it with me?”

  His face went soft, eyes widening.

  “Marta,” he said, voice rough edged in a way that had heat pooling between her legs again. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

  “No,” she said. “Not really. But… you’re hurting. And if I can help, I want to help. I’ll give you permission. I’m giving it to you.”

  He gazed at her for a long moment, and she wondered if he was searching through her surface emotions for any hesitation. He wouldn’t find any. The idea of him poking around inside her head made her feel a little wary, for sure, but at the same time it felt strangely… right.

  His hand brushed over her face, into her hair.

  “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” he said, touching his forehead against hers, his eyes fluttering shut.

  At first, she felt nothing, just the strange sensation of Tarkken’s entire focus being on her, even though his eyes were closed. Then his fingers tightened fractionally in her hair, the slight tug at the back of her neck happening just as his body relaxed, a great, yawning, letting go. The lines in his face smoothed out, his shoulders unbunching, his breath releasing in a gasp. His whole being seemed to melt, tension and pain smoothing out of him, and Marta wondered how long he’d needed this, how long he’d been torturing himself by denying this basic need. And she knew, even as her own bad memories started to rise up to the surface, that she wouldn’t tell him to stop. She would give him this, whatever it cost her.

  And then it was her birthday. She was seven and at the kitchen table and fifteen in a restaurant simultaneously, both versions of her watching a door and waiting.

  And waiting.

  And waiting.

  And seven year old Marta was crying, while fifteen year old Marta was furiously angry and in both situations, no one came through the door. No one came, and she was alone. Forgotten. Just like she always was.

  A thumb brushed across her cheek, swiping away her tears.

  Not alone. Not now.

  “I’m sorry, Marta, I’m so sorry, I’m going to stop.”

  She reached up, sliding a hand into his hair, pinning his forehead to hers.

  “Don’t stop,” she said. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s okay,” she said again, and then she wasn’t sure if she was saying it, or just feeling it. Either way, he would know.

  It’s okay.

  It’s okay.

  It’s okay.

  At some point, the sadness transitioned into a feeling of not quite contentment, but security. As if the hurt was still there, but it didn’t matter as much. Marta opened her eyes to find Tarkken watching her, an anxious look on his face.

  “How do you feel?” she said, her voice a little hoarse.

  “How do I feel?” he said, disbelieving. “What about you, are you okay?”

  “Don’t you already know?”

  “I’ve just been really deep inside your head, I can still see echoes of everything. I can’t tell right now what’s current and what’s just remembered.”

  “I’m…” She thought about it. “I’m fine. Really.”

  She nestled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His arms went around her, hesitant at first, then firm, holding her to him, holding her together.

  “It was my birthday,” she said.

  “Your birthday?”

  “Yeah. When I was seven. My mother… she left when I was six. Went back to Poland. And Dad being the big optimistic idiot that he is was always saying she’d come back, she’d come home to us. I believed him. I always believed him back then. I got it in my head that she’d come home for my birthday, because she was my mother and she wouldn’t want to miss my birthday. And when the day came, I put on my best dress and got up early to make breakfast because I knew she would be coming home. I waited and waited and waited and the door never opened. After that I knew she wasn’t ever coming back. Because if my birthday wasn’t enough to bring her home, then what was left?”

  Tarkken’s hand stroked along her hair, a constant, soothing rhythm.

  “And then it was my other birthday. When I was fifteen and my stupid Dad was supposed to be taking me out to dinner at a restaurant, but he got arrested in the morning and remanded by the evening so I sat on my own like a chump in a restaurant for over an hour, the waiters constantly coming over and asking me if I was sure someone was coming, like I was dicking them around and not breaking my angsty fifteen year old heart. I’m getting you all wet.”

  She tried to push back, but his arms tightened around her before she could get far.

  “I don’t mind,” he said, brushing away her tears with the backs of his fingers.

  His eyes were full of warmth. They were the only outwardly alien part about him, his vibrant yellow eyes. She settled back down against him, resuming her place on his shoulder.

  “They were terrible parents, both of them. Constantly arguing. In some ways Mum was easier, because she just didn’t give a shit about me. Once I got over her leaving, it was done, you know? Almost clean. But Dad… He does love me in his own backwards way. He always used to try. Never hard enough, never in the right way. But he did try, and because of that he wasn’t easy to forget about, to just dismiss like I did my mother. I’ve always wanted to save him, you know? Even now.”

  He didn’t say anything, just kept stroking her hair. Marta couldn’t understand why she felt so compelled to tell him everything, unless it was some side effect of his little trip inside her head, but as long as he kept touching her, kept holding her, the words kept coming out.

  “I know I said I couldn’t take the Match test because of having to look after my Dad, and it is a little bit that. If I leave, he’s got no reason to be better, to do better. I feel so responsible for him. But it’s more than just that. He’s all I’ve got, and I’m all he’s got. And if I have something else, it’s like… it’s like we’d lose that one tenuous conne
ction that we have.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “Could you see all this inside my head?”

  “Sort of,” he said. “I could see your pain, your fear.”

  “And seeing all that made you feel better?”

  “I know it’s counterintuitive, but yes. I’m sorry that meant it all got stirred up again for you. I’d have taken it away if I could. That’s the worst part about Empathy. You can see it, but you can’t take it away.”

  “Actually, just talking about it is helping.”

  “Then tell me the rest of it.”

  Such a simple thing. An invitation. Marta felt a weight lifting from her chest.

  “I’m like her, I think,” she said, admitting to something she’d never vocalised to anyone, not even Asha. “My mother. She’s cold, doesn’t like other people. I think maybe there’s a lot of her in me. That scares me.”

  Tarkken shifted, rolling so he was facing her. “You’re not cold.”

  “Even if I’m not,” she said, the words flooding out of her now, unstoppable, “I’m still the person she abandoned, still the person her own mother couldn’t love. Worthless…”

  “You are not worthless,” he said, pressing his mouth to hers in a searing kiss.

  She pulled him closer, needing the reassurance that only touch could give. His body settled over hers, his size and weight like a protective cocoon around her. He could make her feel, make her forget everything else.

  But instead of ravishing her like he did before, he stopped, taking her hand in his and running his palm over it, front and back, before moving on to her forearm. Marta frowned as he traced a path up her shoulder, his eyes on her, but distant, as if he wasn’t really seeing her. As if he was listening.

  Marta realised he was mapping her, tracing her skin with his hands and listening to her reaction. His fingers explored every inch of her, slow, methodical, and when he reached her feet, he started again with his lips and tongue, until he knew every way she liked to be touched, every place on her body that would make her respond.

  Then he used that knowledge, driving her wild with pleasure and Marta had never felt so worshipped before in her life.

  Afterwards, Tarkken fell asleep fairly fast. But though Marta felt physically and mentally exhausted, she couldn’t sleep. Her head wouldn’t stop spinning. Grabbing her bathrobe from where she’d thrown it earlier, she pulled it around herself, slipping out of her bed and into her office space, clicking the door shut behind her.

  It was two in the morning, which wasn’t that late by Marta’s standards, but probably past bedtime for everyone else. Still, she picked up her comm and tapped out a message to Asha.

  On the off chance that you’re awake and see this - can you call me?

  She wasn’t really expecting a call back, but within five minutes, her comm chimed.

  “Everything okay?” Asha asked in a whisper, creeping out of her bedroom into a chic looking living space. The lights brightened automatically as she crossed the room, revealing Asha’s drowsy face, her hair tousled. Despite Cael’s money and the finery Asha was now exposed to on an almost daily basis, she was still wearing a t-shirt she bought at a concert she went to with Marta back when they were seventeen instead of pyjamas, a little worn now, the colour faded from too many washes. The sight of it made Marta smile.

  “Yes, no, well, sort of, but…”

  Asha frowned, concern filling her grey eyes. “What’s up?”

  Marta sighed. Nothing for it but to spit it out. “I might have just, maybe, slept with Tarkken.”

  Asha blinked. “I’m sorry, it’s two in the morning. My brain mustn’t be working, because I could have sworn you just said you slept with Tarkken.”

  Marta just shrugged.

  “What?” Asha said. “How?”

  “Well, as I’m sure you are well aware, the mechanics of the act are much the same, even when one party is from another planet.”

  Asha rolled her eyes. “I meant, how did that happen? You two don’t even like each other.”

  “I know,” Marta said. “I don’t even understand it. Why do you think I’m panic calling you at two in the morning?”

  The sound of a door opening had Asha looking up over the top of her comm.

  “What are you doing out here?” Cael’s voice sounded sleepy.

  “Marta needed girl talk.”

  “At two in the morning?” There was a pause, then, “Is Marta okay?”

  Even barely awake, the depth and genuineness of his concern warmed Marta’s heart. Cael was a good guy, a really good guy, and she couldn’t have been happier for Asha.

  “She’s fine, it’s just girl stuff. Go to bed. And don’t wait up - this might take a while.”

  Marta waited until the she heard the door closing. “I feel bad about ripping you from the arms of your handsome prince.”

  “Don’t, this is going to be totally worth it. What the hell has being going on back there?”

  “Well, it kind of started when me and my Dad got arrested…”

  “Wait, what? You were arrested?”

  “And promptly released without charge,” Marta said, then settled in to explain.

  “Okay,” Asha said, once Marta had laid it all out. “I follow you up to a point.”

  “The point being where the kissing starts?” Marta said.

  “Pretty much. You are talking about kissing Tarkken.”

  Marta felt bizarrely defensive. “He’s good looking.”

  “I know he is,” Asha said. “He’s also a grumpy jobsworth who can’t stand you. It’s the transition from that to getting naked I’m having trouble with.”

  “I know?” Marta said, the words bubbling up out of her as she tried to make sense of it herself. “It was like… I don’t know. I just… noticed him? Like saw him properly for the first time. Not just as a pain in my ass, but as a person. A really bloody attractive person. And it was like animal instinct took over. Once I’d noticed, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and then we were kissing and then…”

  Asha was quiet a moment. Then, “Was it any good?”

  “You will probably find this hard to believe but, yes. Incredible.”

  Asha’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  “Well, the first time was just my usual, quick and passionate.”

  “Minimum exposure, maximum pleasure,” Asha said. “Wait, the first time? There was more than one time?”

  “Only twice.”

  “You say ‘only’ like this isn’t Tarkken we’re talking about. Do I even want to know about the second time?”

  “It was… transcendent.”

  “Transcendent?” Asha said, disbelief filling her voice.

  “Let’s just say that whole Empathy thing has some really interesting applications.”

  Asha snorted with laughter, covering her mouth to quiet the noise. “Oh, God, now I’m having thoughts I really don’t want to have about our Head of Security.”

  “Sorry,” Marta said. “But also, not sorry.”

  “You just better not tell me any details, or I won’t be able to look at him and keep a straight face.”

  Marta stifled a laugh. “No details, I promise.”

  “Good.”

  “But… I’m not mad, am I? I didn’t just do something completely stupid?”

  “Well, if you’re going to start throwing round adjectives like ‘transcendent’ I don’t think you can call it stupid. And I’m not upset about it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You’re not?”

  “One, it would take something much worse than sleeping with Tarkken to make me upset at you. Two, I’ve thought for a long time that he really needed to get laid, so, in that way, you’ve performed a public service.”

  Marta’s shoulders shook with the effort of not bursting out laughing.

  “Are you having a disgustingly good time out there?” she said.

  “Absolutely,” Asha said. “Miss you, though.”

  “Mi
ss you, too.”

  Marta sighed as she put the comm down, then headed back to bed. Opening her office door a crack revealed that Tarkken was still sound asleep. She crept over to him, shedding her bathrobe and climbing in beside him. Tarkken shifted in his sleep, reaching for her.

  As his arm tucked around her, drawing her body to his, a thought crossed Marta’s mind that she’d never had about anyone she’d invited over before. A thought that was simultaneously thrilling and terrifying:

  She could get used to this.

  Chapter 11

  TARKKEN SLEPT LIKE THE DEAD. IT had been years since he’d slept so thoroughly, so deeply, not even dreaming. When he woke, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: refreshed.

  Marta had gone, and though Tarkken felt a bit of sadness not to wake up next to her, when he saw the time, he couldn’t blame her.

  A rumbling noise drew his attention, and he turned to see the green eyed creature glaring at him.

  “What do you want?” he muttered.

  “Mouse!” Marta said, rushing from her office and shooing the cat away. “Get off the bed!”

  “Remind me again why you share your home with that creature?” Tarkken said.

  “Because although she doesn’t know her place, and sheds fur just about everywhere, I adore her,” Marta said with a sigh.

  “I get the distinct impression that she doesn’t adore you.”

  “That’s just cats. You measure their affection by the depth of their contempt.”

  She grinned, then perched on the edge of the bed.

  “You slept soundly,” she said. “Sorry for getting up. I was just catching up on some work. I haven’t been doing much of it lately. Bills to pay. For my Dad, too. How’s the head?”

  “Much improved,” he said. He couldn’t even detect a hint of tension in his forehead, the persistent throb behind his left eye gone.

  “Good,” Marta said, and he could feel her happiness, let it wash over him.

  He reached up to brush his fingers along her hair - the natural waves starting to reform.