And to Jerden.
There was no denying that his hair was romantic, whether he behaved in a romantic manner or not. He could’ve easily passed for a swashbuckling pirate, a poet, or an ancient warrior. Like Danuban, Jerden was beautiful without even trying.
Sara, on the other hand, saw herself as a tall, plain woman with fiery hair and not even the volatile personality to go along with it. Everything around her was beautiful—the horses, the roses, and the lush, green landscape—but she was simply their unlovely caretaker. She told herself it didn’t matter, but the twinge of regret near her heart said otherwise.
Giving Danuban a quick pat on the nose, she got to her feet. Once her task was complete, she went to the arena for Ulla’s lesson.
Ulla was already in the arena, warming up. A dappled gray Arab gelding with a silvery mane and tail, Akira was one of the first horses Sara had bred, and he’d won ribbons for her in many a show. Though past his prime, he made an excellent lesson horse—responsive, willing, and tolerant of novice riders.
Sara leaned over the rail. “How’s he going for you today?”
“Fine,” Ulla replied as they trotted by. “I think he likes me.”
“He’s always been a sweetie. I couldn’t bring myself to leave him behind when I came here from Earth. He’s almost like a son.”
The only kind of son I’ll ever have. Sara had never had a child of her own and probably never would. Bonnie, on the other hand, had seven. The disparity would’ve rankled if Bonnie’s road to happiness had been an easy one. She’d been used to the point that she’d sworn off men completely before she had no choice but to hire Lynx to help her on the farm. Pregnant and alone with a pen full of nasty enocks, Lynx had come to her rescue, albeit reluctantly. Maybe that’s what I’ll have to do to get a man… swear I wouldn’t take one if he was offered to me on a silver platter.
But do I really want one? She glanced toward the house. Jerden was right there in her bed—the closest thing to a platter she could imagine—though he was unconscious. Perhaps comatose men were the best kind. They were certainly less trouble.
Horses were better. Horses and roses. They gave back what you put into them. Men had a tendency to take what was offered and never give anything in return.
Not all of them, surely…
Returning her attention to Ulla, she saw that Akira had taken the opportunity to get a little lazy and had his nose up in the air. “See if you can get him to round up a little. Wiggle the bit and give him more leg.”
She thought it odd to be giving such simple, basic instructions when Danuban was trained in classical dressage—even the airs above the ground. She’d waited all her life to have a horse capable of the spectacular leaps that the war horses of old had been trained to do. She still recalled the colors and movements as she’d watched the Lipizzaner stallions performing at the Spanish Riding School in Vienna—a tradition that dated back at least fifteen hundred years. Even as a child, their precision and power had given her chills.
Now she was here on a new world, working to establish similar traditions on a planet halfway across the galaxy, populated with alien beings and life forms not nearly as beautiful as horses. Horses were Earth’s gift to the galaxy. Nowhere else had such a creature evolved that evoked the same sense of romance and beauty. There were horses on Statzeel, but even they had their origins on Earth. She marveled at how easily they adapted to new planets, adjusting to riders and handlers who weren’t even human—though she was at a loss to explain why she thought it would matter to them.
She glanced toward the house where Danuban still grazed, never straying far from her bedroom window, occasionally sticking his head inside as though checking up on the Zetithian. The way he had bonded with Jerden was uncanny, though Andalusians were known to be selective. She would have been fascinated by the phenomenon if only it hadn’t irked her that the horse she’d waited a lifetime for had chosen someone else.
Studying Akira’s movements, she called out more instructions to Ulla. Reminding herself that Danuban had seemed friendlier helped to soothe her, though the slight hurt remained. She ought to sell the stallion to Jerden and start over. Or pay him stud fees. It was a workable situation, except for that feeling of being denied, left out—no, ruled out—because she was somehow undeserving or inferior. Judged and found lacking, like the first-round elimination in a horse show, as though her best was simply not good enough. Men had always made her feel that way, and now a horse was doing it.
Blanking out these thoughts, she went on with the lesson, fine-tuning Ulla’s seat, hand position, and subsequently Akira’s performance.
Afterward, she went on with her day—fixing lunch, riding the young horses, making dinner—all the while listening to the chatter of those around her and trying not to think about what would happen that night. She sat out on the porch until darkness began to fall and a storm rolled in from the east, forcing her indoors. Danuban should be safe in his stall, not standing out in the rain, but he refused to budge. Sara could catch him now—the fact that he wore a halter helped—but he wasn’t leaving Jerden without a fight, and fighting was the last thing she felt like doing.
Exhaustion had crept up on her, gradually sending her thoughts toward sleep—and her bed, which was now filled with animals—and Jerden. A shower and a change into a nightgown must’ve given his pets a clue, for Cria raised her head as Sara entered the room. The big cat rose to her feet, jumping as lightly from the bed to the floor as any house cat. The dogs followed suit and were soon joined by the remaining cats. A moment later, she heard them crunching on the food she’d put out for them—food which they’d previously ignored. A quiver ran up her spine, the bizarre nature of their behavior overridden by the notion that they seemed to be changing shifts—she would sleep with him at night while the animals stood watch over him by day.
Turning him onto his back, as the light from the bedside lamp illuminated the planes of his face, Sara could see no change in him, no lifting of the stupor into which he had fallen. That he truly was a beautiful man was easy to see, yet she knew that beauty wasn’t everything. Pulling back the covers, she checked for fleas at the foot of the bed and didn’t find a single one. When she climbed in beside him, she turned away from him, refusing to succumb to the temptation of the previous night. Turning out the light, she settled in to sleep, doing her best to shake the notion that she had simply been biding the hours of the day until she could lie with him that night.
“Don’t be silly,” she admonished herself. “Just go to sleep.” Perhaps he would wake up in the morning and go home, taking his menagerie with him. Life would return to normal. What were the odds that Danuban would let him go home and not follow him? As she closed her eyes, she knew it wouldn’t help for Jerden to leave. What was normal before had already changed, perhaps irrevocably.
***
As always, with the increase in his respiratory drive, Jerden’s sense of smell was the first to return. Though his brain took longer than usual to process the scent, even before he could feel her warmth, he knew she was there. Sara Shield. Her own unique essence mingled with a floral fragrance that was still hers and hers alone. Unmistakable, yet given her attitude toward him—or lack thereof—he thought it strange that she should be so close, the merest breath away.
Muscular control reawakened slowly, and his keen hearing detected her breathing and that of something else. A purring sigh confirmed his suspicions. Cria was still with him. One other thing hadn’t changed. Sara’s scent held no trace of desire, and even though sleep would have kept it at low ebb, he should have been able to detect it.
Opening his eyes, the light from the crescent moon was more than enough to reveal that he was in her bed. Thinking back, he recalled being put there after that last wild ride. He’d been ill—or insane—but whatever had incapacitated him was gone now. He was able to move, to breathe, to feel. Sara lay facing away from him on the f
ar side of the mattress, their bodies in no contact whatsoever. Clearly, she was only there in case he required care or assistance, not to take advantage of the fact that there was a man in her bed. She probably felt safe, thinking he wouldn’t awaken until morning. Turning carefully in the direction of Cria’s purr so as not to disturb Sara, he saw the leopard lying on the floor nearby. She looked up at him, her yellow eyes glowing in the darkness as he reached down to stroke her broad head.
“We should go now,” he whispered.
The big cat yawned and eased her head back down on her front paws as if to say, No, not now… I’m resting—and you should too.
“I’ve rested enough.” He didn’t want to be there when Sara woke up. Her lack of desire should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. It hurt.
A stray thought made him cock his head, searching his mind for traces of the nightmares that had plagued him. They weren’t there.
Had he been healed? But if so, of what? Madness? Frowning, he inhaled deeply and rolled onto his back, his eyes open wide as he gazed at the dark ceiling above him. A breeze wafted in through the open window, and he heard a sound he knew well. Danuban. He knew the name now; he’d heard Sara say it the night she’d found him on her porch. It fit him—regal, proud, distinctive. Glancing toward the sound, he saw the stallion’s head, silhouetted against the pale moonlight. If he went out and mounted the horse now, would Danuban take him home? Was that why he was there, waiting?
Then Jerden realized that it hadn’t been a nightmare that had awakened him. Nor had it been the earsplitting neigh that had so often snatched him from the hell of his dreams. It was something else entirely.
The scent of despair.
Animals didn’t feel that emotion, at least, he’d never associated it with them. Sara was the only possible source. She feels despair in her dreams? He hadn’t picked it up when she’d been awake. Perhaps it only visited her at night. Like my nightmares. He didn’t envy her. His own dreams were filled with guilt, regret, and impotent anger… but not the depths of pain that now emanated from Sara.
Audrey’s death had affected him in ways he could have expected under the circumstances. She had been murdered because of her relationship with him. Knowing that his own greed and arrogance had played a part in the tragedy made matters even worse. If he’d remained on Terra Minor and not gone to Rhylos—never sold himself in a brothel—he would never have met Audrey, and perhaps she would still be alive. He had these demons to plague him night and day, and he knew their source.
But what had happened to Sara?
If she’d been born as asexual as her scent, would she feel sadness about it? Would she understand the difference or even care?
Having always been a highly sexual being, Jerden couldn’t relate to that, but he did know the sense of loss when those feelings were gone. He missed the heady aroma of a woman who wanted him, the rush of blood through his groin, the stiffening of his cock, and the flow of slick fluid from the crown.
No, she couldn’t have always been like this. She had once been as much a woman as any other. Something must have occurred to make her this way—some event or trauma, or even a slow erosion of feelings. It had to have been something that was done to her. No one would do such a thing to herself, not when love and passion were such glorious things. He would never have voluntarily chosen to give up his sexuality and couldn’t imagine what would make her do it. But then, he wasn’t a woman and had no more insight into the workings of their minds than any man. Having spent most of his adult life in the company of females and learned everything he could about how to give them the ultimate pleasure, he still didn’t know everything, and anytime he thought he did, another would come along to prove him wrong.
He glanced at Danuban. He was quiet, not screaming at Sara to interrupt her dreams. Perhaps he didn’t have the same connection with her that he had with Jerden. Still, the pain emanating from her was excruciating. Moving closer to her, Jerden did something he hadn’t done in months. He began to purr.
Laying a hand on her shoulder so gently she might not have been aware of his touch even if she’d been awake, he leaned in to whisper softly in her ear. “Whatever it is, Sara, it isn’t worth the pain. Let it go.”
He almost laughed aloud at his words. She probably wouldn’t heed them any more than he had when his friends had given him similar advice. How to let go was something she would have to learn for herself, and the gods only knew he hadn’t learned the way of it yet—not completely. His nightmares might have ceased for the moment, but the guilt was still with him.
Even so, he noted a subtle change in her scent. Her misery was diminishing—at least, the misery in her dreams. What she would feel when she awoke was anyone’s guess. He knew he shouldn’t be there when that time came. She would be uncomfortable with him in her bed when he was no longer unconscious, perhaps even fearful.
He rose carefully and found the bathroom nearby. Closing the door, he turned on the light and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked like hell, which wasn’t surprising, since that was where he’d lived for some time now. Had he truly turned the corner and moved on? He wasn’t sure yet, but he did feel different—more like the self he’d been before Audrey’s murder, though not quite the same.
A pawing at the door made him open it a crack, and a cat he didn’t recognize sauntered in, eyeing him curiously. So, she has cats in her house too. The bobtailed tabby glanced up at him and stalked over to the litter box in the corner. After giving it a sniff to reassure herself that it hadn’t been disturbed, the cat sat down to observe him. Jerden washed his face and hands and then took a good, long drink. I should leave now. As he shut off the light and turned to go, something drew him back to Sara’s room and into her bed. He knew that leaving was the best option, but he wasn’t quite ready for that yet. If he was careful, she wouldn’t have to know he’d already awakened.
As though she’d known he would return, Cria hadn’t moved at all. She knew him too well—perhaps better than he knew himself. The odd thing was, when he’d purred for Sara, it was intended as a means of comfort, rather than seduction. He’d rarely done that before—had seldom felt the need—but Sara was unlike any other woman with whom he’d shared a bed. She needed him; she simply didn’t know it yet.
Somehow, without even meaning to, she had gotten Jerden through the darkest hours of his life. She wouldn’t see it that way, of course. She’d simply provided Danuban, who had been the catalyst for change. His thoughts touched lightly on the notion that the horse alone hadn’t been enough to cause the break. There was something about Sara that intrigued him, like the elusive solution to a puzzle, an enigma that made him want to delve further into her thoughts, her life, her being.
As he slipped between the sheets, she stirred briefly, not waking enough to question or even notice the movement. She was undoubtedly inured to her cats jumping up on the bed from time to time, and Jerden could be very stealthy when he chose. He would lie just as he’d been when he first awoke. She wouldn’t know he’d moved, and he would be there to help if her dreams should turn sour again. He owed her that much.
***
Sara’s eyes flew open as she felt the vibration and the heat. Her first thought was that the leopard was behind her until she realized that a hand rested on her arm, not a paw. So, Zetithians really could purr. She’d known of this trait—it was impossible to live in the Nimbaza region and not hear the talk—but she’d never experienced it firsthand. Unfortunately, she would have been more comfortable if it had been Cria snuggled up against her. The fact that it was Jerden sent a chill through her body. The first night she’d lain in a similar position, but having him draped over her in slumber made her nervous, apprehensive, even slightly afraid…
Her fear wasn’t so much due to his position in her bed as it was to what he would surely do and say when he woke up and realized where he was and just whose bed he was lying in—the
kind of reaction she’d done her best to avoid for almost as long as she could remember. Given that he was still grieving for another woman ruled out the other cause for her apprehension—that and the fact that if what Bonnie had told her was true, Zetithians never needed to resort to force—and probably couldn’t if the scent of a woman’s desire was necessary. Quashing these fears, she consoled herself with the fact that this meant he had recovered—if not fully, at least to the point that she no longer needed to remain close by. He might even be ready to go home.
What a relief! Now she could get back to normal. Jerden would hole up in his house again, and Danuban’s presence would keep Nate from coming around to offer his stallion’s services to her mares. And if Nate wanted to think that with Jerden around, he didn’t stand a chance of becoming Sara’s suitor, so much the better.
The niggling suspicion that Jerden could change her attitude toward men was a thought she put firmly aside. She didn’t need an attitude adjustment. She only needed the freedom to live her life the way she wanted. Catering to a man’s whims held no appeal for her, and she enjoyed her own company as much as she enjoyed making her own decisions.
Except when it came to what to have for breakfast. She’d been letting the hired help dictate what she ate for so long, she’d forgotten her own preference. She was so sick of pancakes, she could scream. The time had come to assert her independence in that respect, if nothing else. She was skipping the damn pancakes and having two eggs over easy with toast. No syrup. No jam. Nothing sweet at all. Just butter.
She wasn’t going to pussyfoot around with Jerden, either. Not caring whether she woke him up or not, she threw back the covers and sat up. His arm slid off her shoulder, landing on the bed to rest against her hip. If he’d been awake, he wouldn’t have let it touch her.
Or would he? She gave him a nudge. “Hey, are you awake?”
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