Bond of the Maleri’ 5: Redemption

by Kate Steele

  “What’s wrong with it?” Jor asked and without waiting for an answer, he sent one hand searching over his head. He hissed when his fingers came in contact with a large lump and a row of bristles. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. “What have you done?”

  “I stitched the split in your scalp. I don’t know if you remember, but you fell and hit your head.”

  Jor glared. “I remember perfectly. Why did you stitch the wound? That’s barbaric. Why didn’t you use lacerseal?”

  “Because I don’t have any,” Dane explained with gentle sarcasm. “The health facilities are government funded and the government has no funds. Therefore, I make do with what I can come up with. Laceration sealant is a luxury we can’t afford.”

  “It really wouldn’t have mattered if you’d left me alone,” Jor spit resentfully. “Who asked you to interfere? Why couldn’t you have just left me there? I was ready to…” Die, he finished silently, as though saying the word aloud would really make his acceptance a fact and not just let it be something he truly didn’t want to believe.

  “After what happened, I wish the hell I had,” Dane replied with equal vehemence. “This, this thing that’s happened between us. Don’t even think for one minute that I intend to honor this bond. I was mated to a Maleri’ once. He was a good and decent man. I loved…” Jor looked up to see Dane swallowing hard, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. “It doesn’t matter. That’s done and over, and this will never be. As soon as you’re able, I want you gone.”

  “I’m able and more than ready now,” Jor answered, hiding the wince of pain, shame and anger that Dane’s words brought.

  Dane walked back to the doorway and halted before stepping through, “I’ll drive you back to town. Where are you staying?”

  “The shuttle station hotel. I’ll walk.”

  “It’s three miles. I’ll drive you,” Dane insisted and left the room.

  Jor wanted to argue but when he stood, his head vigorously protested the movement. He was very much afraid that even a walk as short as three miles was beyond him at the moment. Sighing in resignation, he followed in Dane’s footsteps.

  * * *

  The drive was accomplished in silence. Each man caught up in his own thoughts. Thoughts they struggled to keep from slipping through the bond that formed and strengthened between them. The Maleri’ bond was inescapable, breakable only by the death of one partner. In most cases the death of one heralded the death of both.

  That Dane had escaped his departed mate’s fate was a fact that brought him an anguish so deep he wished it was possible to die of sorrow. When Teleran had come to Earth, Dane was a practicing physician, so lost in medicine and his patients there was little time for anything else in his life. In reality, his involvement in his work was a cover for the fact that there was nothing else in his life.

  He had no family, few friends and his last relationship had ended with a whimper. Tel had changed all that. While it had been a shock to discover that other sentient beings existed, when the Maleri’ bond formed between them, Dane had reveled in it. To know without a doubt that this person was the one he’d thought never to find? To know that he wouldn’t spend his life alone? To give of himself, heart, body and soul and find it returned in equal measure? It had been a gift, a treasure of incalculable worth. And it had been his for all of four weeks.

  Dane had readily agreed to go with Teleran, but his responsibilities were such that he couldn’t just pick up and leave. With his lover’s blessings he’d set about placing his patients with other doctors and closing his office. He was near the end of his preparations when Tel had been called back to Belthola. Trade agreements he’d helped negotiate on the planet Gefrin were breaking down and his presence was urgently needed.

  Promising to return in a few days, Tel had gone and never come back. An overzealous and unbalanced mine worker had decided to give the manufacturing heads a demonstration of the miners’ power. The explosion had injured a dozen people and killed three, Tel among them. Dane felt the wrench of Tel’s leaving to the bottom of his soul and Tel’s whispered, I’m so sorry, love, that had traveled the distance between them, haunted Dane’s dreams.

  Tightening his grip on the transport’s steering wheel, Dane clenched his teeth and fought to blank his mind. The treacherous Maleri’ bond was calling, enticing him to share his pain with the man at his side, and Dane silently fought it tooth and nail. His mate was dead. This man, Jorrian Tavaris, was an interloper, a betrayer of everything Tel had stood for. What did it matter that he’d spent years atoning for his mistake? Why should the fact that he helped countless people like Val Cammor influence Dane’s view of him?

  Dane steeled himself, mutinously pushing away the feel of Jor’s shame and remorse and his own traitorous need to offer comfort. The port came into view and Dane parked at the nearest entrance. He waited silently as Jor carefully levered himself out. He watched for a moment until Jor disappeared inside then drove away, trying to ignore Jor’s softly whispered sorry as it echoed Tel’s sentiment from long ago.

  * * *

  Jor made his way to the hotel and from there to his room. Once inside he dropped heavily into a chair. His entire being hurt. Physically, mentally and emotionally, no matter what part of himself was explored there was pain. Every moment spent in Dane’s company had been agony. Though he’d struggled to hide it, Dane’s hurt had beaten Jor until he was wired tight with guilt and self-hatred.

  And what was worse? He’d known Teleran Bokra. Tel’s death had come just months before Jor’s disgrace. Dane had been on Belthola, taken in by the Maleri’ Council in an effort to heal the damage Tel’s death had inflicted on him. He’d been on Belthola when Jor had been forced to leave. Jor was struck by the irony of the situation. His future mate had been mere miles away when Jor had all but destroyed his own life. The laugh he uttered held little in the way of humor.

  He rose from the chair and went to the stand that held his bag. Riffling through the right side pocket, he found the bottle of pills he sought. He opened the bottle and shook two into his hand, closed it then opened the small fridge unit by the low mirrored dresser. Several sealed bottles of water were there. Taking one, he removed the cap before tossing back the pills and chasing them down with the icy, cold water.

  A staggering flicker of despair crashed over him and he grabbed for the dresser’s edge, holding on. As suddenly as it came it disappeared. He stared at himself in the mirror, moisture gathering in his eyes. “Dane,” he whispered, watching dispassionately as a single tear slid down his own cheek. “And the angels wept,” he murmured, his mind filled with the vision of Dane’s tearful blue eyes and the sound of his harsh sobs.

  Jor staggered to the bed, crawled in and eased himself down. His mind and body had reached the end of their endurance, refusing to acknowledge any further outside influences. With the help of the pills Jor had taken, his body shut down while his mind sent him deeply into slumber.

  * * *

  Jor stirred restlessly, a memory forming in his sleeping mind. Gentle fingers touched him. A gruff voice spoke, the words soft and reluctant. “So beautiful. I’ve never seen hair this color. And so soft. What a mess. This blood has got to go.”

  He felt someone pull him toward the head of the small bed. The bulk of his hair was freed from confinement beneath his body and something soft was placed under the back of his neck. There was silence as the person with him moved away. Jor felt them return and a scent tickled his nose. A subtle musk, masculine and arousing, surrounded him and suddenly he knew who those gentle hands belonged to. Dane.

  The sound of water caught his attention a few seconds before wet warmth cascaded over his hair and scalp. He nearly moaned at the sensuous feel of it and the tender touches of Dane’s hands washing the blood from him. Jor drifted in the sensations, all care and worry gone. The water was taken away and his hair wrapped in a towel. Moments later the towel was replaced by warm air flowing over him. Dane dried his hair and a brush made an appea
rance. The ends of his hair were seen to first. The soft bristles moving higher, closer to his scalp as any tangles were smoothed away. The brushing ended and he was resettled on the bed.

  Still asleep, Jor rolled to his side, silently protesting the loss of such tender care. There’d been precious little meaningful contact in his life since leaving Belthola. His eyelids fluttered. The rapid eye movement beneath them signaled the beginning of a dream that replaced the memory.

  A hand took hold of his, strong, masculine fingers, entwining with his own. Jor raised their joined hands to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of the hand holding his.

  “Such a romantic,” Dane accused softly.

  “Only with you,” he admitted.

  He opened his eyes and squinted. Above him, Dane’s dark curls were silhouetted by clear blue skies, his face a shadow in the bright sunshine. Below them a blanket was spread across a cushion of green grass, the remains of a picnic relegated to its edge. Jor slid his free hand behind Dane’s neck and pulled him down into a slow, tender kiss. Dane moaned softly, his pleasure evident, his mouth opening for the strokes of Jor’s tongue.

  Encouraged, Jor wrapped his arm around Dane and drew their bodies together, then rolled bringing Dane beneath him. He eased back, staring at his lover. Dane’s eyes were closed, his lips parted, and Jor’s breath caught in his throat. Dane was his angel. He’d rescued Jor not only from death but from a life filled with loneliness and self-loathing. His blue eyes opened and Jor lost himself in their depths. He waded deep into the love reflected there and felt his spirits soar. All the shackles that had chained him disappeared.

  Dane’s smile went from angelic to mischievous. “I had an ulterior motive for bringing you out here, you know.”

  Jor returned his smile. “You did?”

  “Mmmhmm. And it wasn’t just to feed you.”

  “Hmm. I wonder what that motive could be.”

  “Come here and I’ll show you.”

  Dane reached up and Jor went willingly into his arms. Their lips came together, opening, welcoming the sweet invasion of each other’s tongues. Their coming together was natural and easy, their passion for each other intoxicating and ever present. Practiced fingers loosened buttons and fasteners while the heat grew between them. Dane groaned when Jor’s fingers slid into his open pants and wrapped around the thick stalk of his already erect cock.

  Jor’s stomach clenched at the sound of Dane’s pleasure. The feel of the rod in his hand, iron hard with skin like silk, sent a rush of pure lust down his spine. His mouth sought the hollow of Dane’s throat, tasting the salt and musky sweetness. Licking and sucking his way downward, Jor groaned as the flesh of their chests, exposed by their opened shirts, slid together. He stopped at a muscled pec, the tight brown nipple surrounded by a lighter copper-brown areola drawing his gaze.

  He slid his tongue over the taut bead, taking it carefully between his teeth. Dane arched beneath him when Jor lashed his tongue repeatedly over the tiny nub before sucking it. Dane’s moans went straight through Jor, making his pulse pound harder and his blood rush faster. His hips jerked reflexively at the further influx of blood that filled his cock to bruising hardness.

  Pushed by the urgency of his growing need, Jor moved down the length of Dane’s body, hands and mouth caressing Dane’s ridged abs and flat stomach. The muscles under his hands rippled under his touch and Jor smiled, pleased at Dane’s response to his touch. As much as he wanted to worship every inch of his lover, Jor’s hunger drove him to the hard cock he still held trapped in his fist.

  A growl inched from his throat. He pushed his face into the dark nest of pubic hair, inhaling the tart, masculine scent while soft yet wiry wisps of hair caressed his cheek. Opening his hand, he kept it cupped around Dane’s cock but free enough to let his tongue play over the thick length. To the music of Dane’s moans, he traced a wet path over the raised, pulsing veins, letting his tongue skim over the velvet heat. Reaching the head, he deftly explored the curve of flesh where the straight shaft blossomed into a plump, reddish cap.

  Jor followed a wet trail of pre-cum to the tiny slit that topped Dane’s cock and delicately probed with his tongue. Dane’s cry was all the encouragement he needed. His mouth descended, taking the thick length to the root. He closed his eyes, lost in utter bliss. This act, to fill his mouth with Dane’s cock, to feel the wet silk of Dane’s skin against his tongue, to breathe his unique scent and taste the sweet pearls of Dane’s pre-cum was magic. The world fell away. Dane was everything and all. Jor’s beginning and end. He tightened his lips around the shaft and sucked.

  With an expertise born partly of experience and partly of sheer joy in the doing, Jor worked Dane’s cock. His tongue danced and teased while his lips slid up and down the hard length. His cheeks hollowed and released with the force of suction he applied. Dane was babbling incoherently, words and moans interspersing while his hips strained upward, following the movement of Jor’s mouth.

  Jor threw his leg over Dane’s and ground himself against his thigh. His own desire was growing unbearable, his cock pulsing with the need for release. Jor gently cupped Dane’s balls and rolled them, rhythmically squeezing, pushing him over the edge. Dane’s body stiffened and arched, the first rush of his semen bathing the back of Jor’s throat as he came. He pulled back, wanting the taste, fresh, mild, salty and sweet.

  Unconsciously he ground himself against Dane and shuddered, groaning out his own climax around Dane’s cock while swallowing each spurt of seed his lover released. Using his lips and tongue, Jor massaged Dane’s cock, encouraging the aftershocks, the quivers that tightened Dane’s body and brought more of his flavor to Jor’s seeking mouth.

  Dane’s cock lost its rigid hardness and Jor, assured he had every drop, let it slip from his mouth. Dane’s hands landed on Jor’s shoulders and fisted in his shirt, pulling him up. He obeyed his lover’s summoning, and found himself rolled to his back with Dane’s tongue lazily exploring his mouth.

  “Mmm,” Dane rumbled before pulling away. “We taste good together. I wanted to suck you too, you know. That was my dessert.”

  Jor smiled. “Sorry. You’re just too sexy. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll get my chance in the shower when we go in.”

  “You’re pretty sure of yourself. Am I that easy?”

  “Only with me,” Dane replied, echoing Jor’s earlier confession about being romantic.

  They shared a quiet laugh, a few more kisses, then helped each other to their feet. Dane packed the picnic things while Jor folded the blanket. Joining hands, they walked from the back yard and into the house.

  Jor woke slowly and stretched. A smile curved his lips while the dream replayed in his head. He stroked his hands slowly down the length of his body, stopping at the wet spot that covered his groin. At least that much of the dream had been true. He’d come in his pants. He rolled out of bed and began shedding his clothes while walking to the bathroom. Too bad the rest wasn’t real, he mused sadly before stepping into the shower.

  * * *

  Dane took a deep breath and yawned, his eyes fluttering open. Totally relaxed, he let his thoughts drift. A picture formed in his mind, a sunny day, a shared picnic, the sweet rush of love and the aching arousal that found fulfillment in his lover’s mouth.

  Jor’s mouth.

  Dane frowned, dismayed at where his dreams had led him. His first thought was to blame Jor, but common sense won out. How could Jor be held responsible for Dane’s dreams? As much as Dane wanted to blame him, Jor couldn’t even be held accountable for the bond that now locked them together. He certainly hadn’t been in a position to warn Dane away. It was Dane’s own fears that had made him reject Jor so vehemently. And it was Dane’s fears that made him see Jor as a threat, instead of a second chance. A chance to experience the love he’d been denied. Dane rapidly blinked his eyes against the tears that threatened.

  When Tel had been killed and their bond broken, Dane had nearly broke
n as well. If the Maleri’ Council had not come for him, Dane had no doubt he’d be living the rest of his life in some mental institution. It was only the Maleri’ healers with their empathic abilities that had brought him back from the near catatonic state in which they’d found him. What would happen if he accepted Jor only to lose him as well? Stranger things had happened. Hadn’t they?

  When did I become such a pessimist?

  Dane sighed. When Tel died.

  He shook his head, partly in protest of the thought and partly in disgust at his own cowardice. Deliberately Dane brought the memory of the dream forward and let it fill his mind. Through the Maleri’ bond that formed between them Dane had learned more about Jorrian Tavares than any one person had a right to know about another. He squirmed, knowing that Jorrian had received an equal portion of him. Jor knew about Tel. He knew about Dane’s breakdown and his recovery on Belthola. He knew about his time spent with Tel’s mentors and how they had grieved together then shared their love of Tel in memories of him.

  But Dane wasn’t the only one with problems and scars. Jor’s need was also evident. Not just the desires of his body but the requirements of his soul. His pain was endless and blackened his spirit. Even his efforts to atone did little to lift the stain that blighted every aspect of his life. Jor had given up. He was going through the motions, waiting for the end. No wonder his anger had turned on Dane when Dane had inadvertently saved him.

  He shook his head. Together he and Jorrian were a complete mess. Both hurting, both angry, both trying to fight the Maleri’ bond, a force that took no prisoners. If it weren’t so tragic, it would be laughable. Oh, Tel, what am I going to do?

  You’re a healer, Dane. Do what you do best.

  Dane froze. Had Tel spoken to him or was that his own subconscious providing answers? How could he know? The one thing he was sure of was that he was tired and scared. Tired of the hurt but too scared to let anyone in to assuage it.

  Dane rolled to his side and ended up in a wet spot. He frowned for a second then realized that when he’d come in the dream, he’d come in reality. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a wet dream. After Tel’s death, Dane’s libido had taken a lengthy sabbatical. Even after its return, Dane’s enthusiasm for sex was lukewarm at best. He bit his bottom lip and worried it for a moment. If nothing else, his body was telling him what to do. The question was, should he let it?