Silent Lucidity

by Tiffany Roberts

  Tenthil shifted his gaze back to the airspace in front of them. “No.”

  “What do you mean, no?”

  “There’s no one like you anywhere but right here.”

  Abella’s heart quickened, and her belly fluttered with excitement. She clasped her hands together to stop herself from reaching for him. For someone who didn’t speak often, he sure as hell seemed to know the right words to say.

  She ran her eyes over him, seriously contemplating climbing into his lap. “Are we almost there?”

  He didn’t look at her, but his nostrils flared, and his widening smile displayed his fangs. “A few more minutes. Will you last?”

  Abella’s gaze stopped on his mouth. She squeezed her thighs together; she knew exactly what that mouth could do. “I don’t know.”

  He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment. His tongue slipped out and glided over his lips. “You tempt me, female.”

  Abella chuckled and leaned back in her seat, brushing her finger over his forearm; it was as much touching as she could trust herself with while he was driving. “After.”

  His smile faded. “Yes. After.”

  Her own smile fell at the sudden change in his demeanor and tone. Before she could ask him what was wrong, he broke the hovercar away from the flow of traffic and angled it down. They descended toward one of the smaller buildings. While much of the city looked alien in architecture and design, there was something familiar about this structure—beyond the patches of emerald grass and neatly trimmed shrubbery dominating the open space around it.

  This building would’ve fit well in any city back on Earth.

  Realization dawned on Abella when her eyes drifted to the building’s entrance. Wide, gently sloping steps led to the doors, and a large fountain was situated near the base of the steps. At least a dozen flagpoles stood around the fountain, flying flags representative of all the regions of Earth and the space colonies. The United Terran Republic flag was largest of all, positioned at the center.

  “Is this…is this the human embassy?” Abella asked.

  She saw Tenthil nod from the corner of her eye. Without speaking, he piloted the hovercar around the back of the embassy and down to a lower level, where they entered an open garage door to a parking area beneath the building. He directed the car into the first open space.

  Tenthil reached a hand forward, disengaged the engine, and settled his palm back on the controls.

  “I should not have taken this from you,” he said, his voice so low and rough that Abella almost couldn’t make out his words. “I should’ve given you the choice. A true choice.”

  Abella stared at him, brows low. The pleasure she’d felt only moments before was replaced with an almost nauseating dread. “What are you saying, Tenthil?”

  “You have a home. A family.”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “And you are free.”

  Abella searched his face. His pupils dilated and receded, as though he were struggling to maintain control, and palpable tension radiated from him.

  “So, what? You’re just going to drop me off here so we can go our separate ways?” Abella asked, glaring at him through tear-filled eyes as her hurt gave way to anger. She turned, opened the hovercar door, and climbed out, slamming the door behind her. She started walking; it didn’t matter which direction she was going, as long as it was away.

  She’d only managed a few steps when a strong hand caught her arm. Tenthil spun her around to face him. When she turned her head away, he took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him.

  “You have had your choices stolen from you for years,” he said, his pupils swallowing his eyes. “And I was one of the people who took those choices from you.”

  “Shouldn’t it be clear the choice I made?” Abella jerked her chin away and smacked his arm, taking a step back. “After all this time with you saying you’re mine, I’m never letting you go, and now you’re just dropping me off? I chose you, Tenthil! You should have known that the moment I said I loved you!”

  “And what have I ever known of love before you?” he demanded, moving forward to close the gap between them. “What choice did I ever give you but me? I want you, Abella, I love you, and that means I want you to choose the future that will make you the happiest. I want you to have what you want, not what I want.”

  Tears streamed down Abella’s cheeks, and her throat constricted. “I want you to keep me, Tenthil.”

  Tenthil’s eyes flared. The muscles of his jaw ticked, but he remained unmoving, remained silent. A million words roiled behind his gaze, but he seemed unable to get them out.

  She raised her hands to cup his face. “I love my family, I miss them, but if I had to choose between you or them, I choose you, Tenthil. You make me the happiest, and I know we’ll only be happier once we take our chance to live.” She brushed her thumbs over his cheeks, gently tracing his raised scar tissue. “But I don’t have to choose one, I can have both. Come with me. To Earth. Meet my family…because you’re already part of it. But if you’d prefer to go back to your home, I will go with you, I’ll go anywhere with you,Tenthil, because my home is with you.”

  He took gentle hold of her wrists and rubbed the pads of his index fingers over the backs of her hands. “My only home is with you, Abella. I’ve never known another. But can I follow you there? Will they have me?”

  “There’s only one way to find out. Together. But no matter what, I will have you. I want you. Just don’t abandon me.”

  “I didn’t kill half the Order to abandon you, female,” he said, voice ragged.

  He slipped his arms around her, drew her body against his, and claimed her mouth in a passionate kiss. Abella slid her hands up his chest and clutched at his shirt, tilting her head to the side to allow him to deepen the kiss.

  For a brief moment, she’d thought he had abandoned her, that he’d simply given her up despite all they’d gone through. That moment was all it had taken for her to know; returning to Earth—to her family—alone would have destroyed her. Earth was not home without Tenthil. She loved Tenthil with every fiber of her being, and she belonged at his side. He was her mate, as she was his.

  Soulmates.

  Abella smiled and pulled her head back, breaking the kiss. She grinned as she looked up into his eyes. “Guess that says it all, doesn’t it?”

  “I’ll show you more, Abella.” Tenthil’s grin revealed his wicked fangs, and his dark eyes glittered with promise. “After.”

  Epilogue

  California, Earth

  Terran Year 2111

  Tenthil eased the hovercar into its usual parking place beside Abella’s, killed the engine, and climbed out of the vehicle. The wind sighed through the trees around their dwelling, rustling the foliage and spreading the sweet scent of living plants and aromatic wood. He paid little mind to the black hovercar behind Abella’s; the company was expected.

  Even after his years with Abella on Earth, it was still a strange feeling for him to be at ease, to be able to let his guard down—mostly down, anyway. His old life had taught him every shadow held a new danger, but he was learning how to relax, build relationships, and trust. Though shaking off his old habits was a slow process, he was making progress.

  He filled his lungs with the fragrant air as he followed the path to the front door.

  He entered the home—his home, their home—and glanced across the open living space, which was lit by streams of sunlight pouring through windows on the roof. The living room led directly to the kitchen, where Abella’s father, Richard, stood fussing over something on the counter that served as the border between the two rooms.

  Tenthil closed the door. Richard glanced up from his work and smiled, displaying those flat, white human teeth that had become so normal to Tenthil.

  “Hey Tenthil,” Richard said. “Abella said you wouldn’t be home until later. Get off early?”

  Tenthil nodded and walked across the living space, stopping directly across the counte
r from Richard. The human was only five or six centimeters shorter than Tenthil, but he was thin, and the faint lines around his eyes and mouth were beginning to show his age. But his eyes themselves—eyes the same green as Abella’s—were bright, intelligent, and usually full of joy. His short, dark hair was heavily streaked with gray.

  Richard returned his attention to the tray in front of him. “Figured I’d pitch in and throw these together for dinner. I know Abella and Hannah have a lot going on with the festival tomorrow, so I wanted to give them one less thing to worry about.”

  Dozens of little sandwiches were arranged atop the tray, comprised of a variety of meats, cheeses, and garnishments. Tenthil had grown fond of sandwiches, especially the ones with peanut butter and jelly. Abella teased him about it, sometimes, but always stole bites of those sandwiches when he made them.

  “How’s everything been going down at the base?” Richard asked.

  “Same as always. They bring me soldiers. I train them.” Tenthil reached across the counter for one of the sandwiches.

  Richard pulled the tray out of Tenthil’s reach and clucked his tongue. “These are for dinner. You can have one when everyone else gets one, too.”

  “I am not a child, Richard.”

  Richard’s smile widened, and something twinkled in his eye—the same spark of joy Tenthil so often saw in Abella’s gaze. He slid the tray closer. “One. But don’t tell anyone, or I’ll get bum-rushed, and everyone will be hungry again by the time we’re supposed to eat.”

  Tenthil smirked and plucked up the sandwich that appeared to have the most meat, finishing it off in two bites.

  “How long do you have left on your contract?” Richard asked as he settled a clear plastic lid over the tray and carried it to the refrigerator.

  “A year. But they already offered renewal.”

  “They must love you down there.”

  “Don’t know why.”

  The background Alkorin had fabricated for Tenthil’s identification chip had included extensive experience in private security with a specialization in covert operations. Though it seemed a fitting cover—and one not far from the truth—it had caused him some trouble during the immigration process. The United Terran Republic had scrutinized his background thoroughly, suspecting him of some malicious intent, but it had eventually led to opportunity; he possessed skills valuable to the terran defense forces, who were still new to matters of intergalactic security, technology, and tactics.

  Though he’d not been told the details of the operations, he knew that the training he’d provided had led to terran special forces managing to track down and break at least one of the trafficking rings responsible for kidnapping humans and selling them in places like Nyssa Vye back in Arthos.

  Richard laughed and turned on the sink, rinsing his hands. “I’m proud of you, son. You’re making the best of where you came from, and it’s doing good in the universe.”

  That word—son—always threw Tenthil off-guard when Richard used it.

  Despite the challenges and dangers he’d faced over his life, despite the number of times he’d faced down his potential death without so much as a flutter in his stomach, Tenthil had been more anxious than ever about meeting Abella’s parents when he’d finally been cleared to return to Earth with her those years ago.

  There’d initially been some justified skepticism on Richard’s behalf, but he and Abella’s mother, Hannah, had been so supportive and accepting that Tenthil had barely been able to process it. He understood now that their acceptance had been so readily offered in large part because he’d brought home their daughter, their baby girl, after she’d been missing for four years. The local authorities had presumed Abella dead.

  Tenthil would never have the words to express his appreciation for these people. He would never be able to tell them how much it meant to him to have a family—not only Abella, but a whole group of people who’d banded around him like a tribe.

  Richard dried his hands, walked back to the counter, and leaned his hands atop it. He smiled at Tenthil.

  Tenthil’s brow furrowed slightly. Richard was a man who seemed to put most people at ease—likely a valuable trait when he sometimes described his job as head torturer—but conversation had never been Tenthil’s forte.

  What had Abella’s advice been?

  Ask people about themselves, but don’t press. Keep it casual.

  “How’s…the office?” Tenthil asked.

  “Oh, same as always. They bring me broken teeth, I fix them,” Richard replied with a chuckle. “Think it’s almost time, though. Another year, maybe two, and I’m going to hang up my gloves and drill for good.”

  Tenthil wasn’t sure how to reply; his experience with leaving his prior career had been somewhat complicated, and he had no desire to reflect upon it. “Sandwich was good.”

  “You don’t have to stand around and make small talk with me, Tenthil. Abella’s out back with the kids. Go on.” Richard waved Tenthil toward the back door, his smile never faltering.

  Tenthil readily accepted the offered escape route; he walked around the counter, crossed the kitchen, and pressed the button beside the glass door on the rear wall. The door slid open silently, granting him another taste of the fresh air.

  He stepped out onto the porch. There was something satisfying about the sound of boots on wood that he’d never experienced with Arthos’s concrete and tristeel, something primal.

  For a moment, he looked out over the field behind the dwelling and watched the long grass sway in the breeze, watched the green-leafed trees beyond. This wasn’t his home planet, but this was his home. The place he and Abella had chosen together.

  Abella and Hannah stood on the trimmed grass with their backs to Tenthil as Abella posed and demonstrated a few dance steps to their five-year-old daughter, Zena, as Lucian, their two-year-old son, leapt up with a little growl to chase a passing butterfly.

  Tenthil walked down the steps to the grass as Zena mimicked Abella’s dance moves. Though the girl lacked her mother’s precision and discipline, she had natural grace and agility—neither of which saved her when her brother, gaze fixed on the butterfly overhead, ran into her back.

  The children tumbled to the ground.

  “You ruined it, Luca!” Zena whined.

  Lucian rolled over and sat up. He looked at his sister questioningly, and then shifted his attention to the escaping butterfly; he let out a distressed whine.

  Hannah and Abella laughed.

  Zena turned to her mother, sticking out her lower lip in a pout. “Mommy! He messed me up.”

  Abella covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as she walked to Lucian. She knelt and picked the youngling up. “It was an accident, Zena. But you were doing so well!”

  Lucian wrapped his arms around Abella’s neck and lifted his silver eyes to meet Tenthil’s. “Daddy!”

  Tenthil closed the distance between himself and his family, smiling. He extended an arm and ruffled Lucian’s black hair.

  “Daddy! Daddy! Did you see me?” Zena asked as she ran toward him. “Did you see me dance like Mommy?”

  He crouched and caught Zena in a hug as she leapt at him, smoothing back her silver hair. “I saw, little one.”

  Abella stood and turned toward Tenthil, smiling softly. “You’re home early.”

  Still holding Zena, Tenthil rose and met his mate’s gaze, returning the smile. He shifted his daughter to the side, leaned forward, and kissed Abella. “Not early enough.”

  Desire sparked in Abella’s eyes as Tenthil straightened, subtly altering the tone of her smile.

  Zena giggled. “Daddy kissed Mommy!”

  Hannah laughed. “That’s because your daddy loves your mommy very much.” She placed a hand on Tenthil’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. She was a slender woman, a little shorter than her daughter, and had clearly passed her physical grace to Abella. “It’s nice to see you, Tenthil.”

  He nodded. During his old life, it’s nice to see you w
as more likely to have been the preamble to a threat rather than a genuine greeting, but he trusted its sincerity from Hannah.

  His eyes returned to Abella’s. To that fire burning in her gaze.

  “Looks like it’s almost time to head to town,” Hannah said. “Do you kiddos want to come with grandma and grandpa to pick up uncle Josh from the train station?”

  “Yes!” Zena wiggled until Tenthil set her down on her feet. “Is uncle David coming, too, with our cousins?”

  “They’ll be here in the morning, dear.”

  “Yay!”

  Hannah kissed Abella’s cheek before taking Lucian from her. “We can pick up a treat on the way home, too. We’ll be sure to take our time.” She winked at Tenthil.

  “Be careful, Mom,” Abella said. “It’s going to be busy down there for the holiday.”

  Tenthil had never celebrated a holiday before coming to Earth; he’d come to appreciate many of the celebrations, especially because they made Abella and the kids happy, but tomorrow’s—United Galaxy Day—held special importance to him. Though he still thought the name was vague and a bit silly, Abella had explained it was a celebration of the treaties that had integrated her people with the rest of the universe’s denizens and opened the United Terran Republic to immigration by alien species.

  The treaties that had made their shared life on Earth possible.

  “We’ll be fine, and the kids will love seeing the Galaxy Day decorations that are being set up.” She held her hand out to Zena. “You two enjoy the quiet. It won’t be long before you have your hands even fuller.”

  Tenthil’s gaze dropped to Abella’s stomach. She was only just beginning to show; they had months before the baby arrived, before their family grew a little larger. He slipped his arms around her middle from behind and drew her close, leaning his chin over her shoulder. He spread his fingers and trailed his palm over her belly.

  He couldn’t wait to meet their coming child, to witness the beauty of what their love had created once again. They hadn’t realized they could reproduce with one another until their final medical exams during the relocation process; the scanner tech had casually asked about Abella’s baby, shocking both of them into stunned silence.