Laughing, he followed. “The refugees have been assigned an emissary.”
“I know.” Instead of pulling out one of the two chairs, Krysta scooted onto the table and sat. “Charlotte gave me his name and a list of the hotels housing the refugees. Their personal access codes should be processed by tomorrow.”
Now he was annoyed. “Why did I bother?”
“Because you love me?” she asked hopefully.
The question caught him off guard. Or rather he wasn’t prepared for his violent reaction to her simple question. He felt as if the breath had been sucked from his lungs and his whole body ached just to touch her.
Need. He needed her with every fiber of his being. He had to look away, shaken to realize that his expression likely reflected the emotions raging within him. She slipped off the table and came to him, framing his face with her hands. “Trey, don’t look so devastated. This isn’t a bad thing. I love you, too.”
Pressing her to his chest, he inhaled her scent, absorbed her heartbeat, listened to her breathe. “I love you.” The words sounded choked and filled with pain, but that wasn’t how he felt.
“I love you, too,” she repeated.
“No, oh, gods, Krysta I felt it. The cry of my heart, the quickening of my soul... there are legends as old as time, but I felt it just now. You are my soul’s mate. I love you.”
She laughed, not a harsh mocking sound, but a musical tinkle that played across his senses. “I love you, too. My heart cried out for you the moment our eyes first met.”
He threw back his head and laughed, wrapping her in his brawny arms. “And then you punched me in the eye!”
* * * * *
Naked and sated, Krysta stared out the open window at the Ontarian sky. Home. She was finally home. “What do you think of the City of Tears?”
“What?” She looked at Trey, stretched out on his back beside her. His arms drawn up, hands folded beneath his head, displaying his arms and shoulders in a way that made her insides clench. How was he able to harness such strength and touch her so gently? A secret smile curved her mouth. He never seemed to keep the strength harnessed for long. His gentle teasing caresses inevitably turned to --
“The City of Tears?” he repeated. “Would you like to visit it sometime?”
Rolling to her side, she propped herself on her elbow and looked at him. “Isn’t it a military outpost?”
“It’s hard to describe if you’ve never been there. It was once a leisure colony -- a holiday destination, but it was converted after the Great Conflict. So it’s incredibly beautiful, but yes, it’s a military outpost.”
“Isn’t that where they took Saebin?”
“Yes, but that’s not why I ask.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
What was this about? He was getting at something. “All right, I’ll bite. Why should we visit the City of Tears?”
“Because I may be the next director of Covert Operations.”
She could tell by the pride in his voice that she should be impressed. “I’m not sure what that means, but if you’re pleased about it, I’m happy.”
“Well, it’s not for certain yet, but Lyrik said Cyrus intends to offer me the position.”
“Cyrus is Lyrik’s father?”
“Yes.” He rolled onto his side, mirroring her pose.
“And if the offer comes as Lyrik predicts, will you accept it?” She combed her fingers through his thick hair and smiled as he did the same.
“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m intrigued by the idea. I know I’m well suited to the work.”
She ran her fingers along his collarbone, guiding his hand in the process as he continued to mimic her movements. “Why haven’t you considered this sort of thing before?”
“I suppose I was too focused on what I could not do to think seriously about the options available to me.”
She circled his flat male nipple with her fingertip, but he caught her nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling it firmly. She squirmed. “That’s not fair.”
He swept her beneath him and pinned her arms to the bed. “Then, you’ll protest this even more loudly.”
Nudging her thighs apart, he entered her to the hilt in one forceful thrust. She cried out. Her body squeezed him rhythmically, welcoming him. She expected him to continue on aggressively, forcefully, but he was seldom predictable. Grasping her hips, he held her tightly as he arched over her. Bright with tenderness as well as desire, his amber gaze caressed her face. “I want the directorship...”
Certain he meant to say more, she held out her hands, keeping him from kissing her. “Finish the sentence. What were you going to say?”
He rolled his hips, bringing his erection deeper inside her, but she couldn’t allow even so pleasant a retreat. She pushed against his chest.
“Finish the sentence.”
“I want the position, so I’ll be worthy of you.”
The words rushed out with his heated breath and Krysta gasped. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tangled her fingers in his hair.
“No job will make you worthy of me. We are worthy of each other because we are meant to be together. We complement each other, complete each other. No position can give you that.”
He kissed her forehead, another flash of gentleness in his tempestuous mood. “We may feel that way, but the rest of Ontariese will not. You are important. You are the High Queen’s niece. I want to be worthy of you.”
Finally, she smiled. “Is it okay if I love you, even if you don’t get the job?” His laughter did erotic things with their bodies joined. Krysta groaned. “Make love to me.”
His mouth settled over hers in a seemingly gentle contact, but his tongue coaxed and conquered without hesitation. She held him close. He stroked her skin, caressed her breasts, tormenting her sensitive nipples until she arched into his touch.
Pulling her bottom up onto his thighs to maintain his penetration, Trey rose to his knees. Krysta stared up at him, mesmerized by the strength and the beauty of his form. Only her shoulders rested on the bed. The rest of her body lay at an angle along his upper thighs.
“Make love to me,” she whispered. She couldn’t touch him in this position; she could only receive pleasure from him. And he knew it.
“Sometimes it has to be my idea.” He moved her hands to the bed beside her head and caressed his way back to where their bodies were joined. His skillful fingers touched her, teased her. She felt the tension build, knew he wouldn’t stop until she gave in to her climax, so she didn’t fight it. Relaxing, accepting the spiraling sensations, she squeezed her inner muscles around him and heard him groan.
His fingers focused, rubbed and carefully squeezed, and Krysta’s body obeyed. Liquid heat inundated her core, making each ripple of pleasure an erotic massage. Trey felt her body clenching his and nearly lost control. He panted and ordered, “Put your arms around me.”
“Why?” She smiled dreamily. “You’re doing just fine on your own.”
With an impatient sound, he wrapped her tightly in his arms and rolled with her. He landed on his back and she straddled his hips. “Your turn.” He pushed her gently away from his chest. “Rest your weight on your knees and ride me.” He punctuated the directive with a devilish grin.
She looked uncertain, so he took her hips and showed her the motion.
“Oh.” She gasped. “You’re really --”
“Going to die, if you don’t move.”
She moved. Sliding her body up and down along his aching shaft, she gripped him. Trey anchored her hips above him and thrust up into her welcoming heat.
“You can come now,” she said in a silken purr.
His body obeyed, shuddering forcefully with each violent spasm of release. She relaxed against him, sprawled across his chest. “And sometimes it has to be my idea.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Krysta nibbled her bottom lip, waiting for Dro Tar’s reaction.
“Well?” Krysta prompted. “What do you think?
”
Dro Tar scratched behind one ear as her warm brown gaze assessed the elegant foyer. “It’s dreadful.”
“What?” Krysta laughed. “It’s a palace.”
“Exactly.” Dro Tar shuddered. “It’s an Ontarian elitist’s wet... er, daydream, but how can you live here? Aren’t you afraid of getting things -- dirty?”
Joy unfurled within Krysta and she gave Dro Tar a spontaneous hug. “Oh, how I’ve missed you. Everyone here is so serious.”
“If this position ruins Commander Aune... guess that would be Director Aune now, wouldn’t it? Anyway, if he gets all sanctimonious, you let me know.”
“I can handle Trey.”
“I just bet you can.” Dro Tar snorted and crossed to the floor to ceiling windows. “Holy shit, would ya look at that.” Spread out in graduating elevations, following the steep contours of the day moon, the City of Tears was an eclectic mixture of lush beauty and brutal fortification.
“I must have stood there for the better part of a month after we arrived,” Krysta said. “It’s hypnotizing.”
“Maybe it’s not so dreadful after all.” Dro Tar’s voice was hushed with awe. “You just need to let me redecorate.”
Krysta laughed.
A distant rumble interrupted the conversation. The vibration built, the sound intensified and a vortex opened in the middle of the room. Tal rushed out.
“Come.” He proffered his hand, the intensity in his expression brooked no refusal. Krysta shot Dro Tar a panicked glance, but went to Tal.
“Should I com Trey?” Dro Tar asked.
“He is already on his way,” Tal said, making Krysta’s heart skip another beat.
“Make yourself at home or let yourself out.” Krysta offered her guest a distracted wave. “I’ll com you later.”
She tried to scan for Belle, to assure herself that her twin was still alive, but the roar of the transport conduit engulfed her. In the past seven months, she’d become accustomed to the spinning lights and weightlessness, but today the sensations compounded her fear.
They emerged in the Conservatory’s infirmary and Krysta’s hand flew to her mouth. Seven healers circled one of the narrow treatment tables, a visible ring of Mystic energy pulsing around them.
She couldn’t see the patient, but surges of chaotic emotion and terrified thoughts bombarded her. The Mystics chanted softly. Krysta could hear panting, but Belle’s frightened voice was only in her mind. A muted rumble announced the opening of another transport conduit.
“That must be Trey,” Tal whispered and motioned her toward the door.
She followed Tal out into the small lobby. Trey stood there with Master Gerr. The Mystic inclined his head, but left without speaking. Dressed in his black and copper uniform, Trey looked fierce and intimidating, but his amber gaze glowed with compassion and concern.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Vee called the healers this morning, but they have been unable to stabilize Belle’s stasis,” Tal explained. His smoky gaze moved from his brother to Krysta and back. “Why was this kept from us? Charlotte will be --”
“Tell the High Queen that Belle’s condition was strictly need to know.” Krysta repeated the phrase she’d heard over and over regarding her friend Saebin. Trey slipped his arm around Krysta’s shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. She took a deep breath. “Why is the stasis deteriorating?”
“The child wishes to be born.”
Tal’s simple statement rocked Krysta back a step. “What? The child is deteriorating the stasis? How can an infant have that much control?”
“That would be a question better posed to you.” Tal’s gaze narrowed and the thick coil of his black hair tightened. “Just how dangerous is this child? Will anyone be able to control him once he leaves his mother’s womb?”
“How is Belle?” Trey emphasized, part question, part warning.
“We are uncertain.” Tal glanced toward the door, then fixed his gaze on Krysta. “Go to her on the metaphysical plane. See if you can determine what she wishes us to do.”
Not waiting for her response, Tal returned to the infirmary.
Trey took Krysta by the hand and led her to the row of chairs situated along the wall. She sat beside him, but he pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. His smile caressed her, encouraged her. Splaying her hand over his heart, she absorbed the rhythm, drawing comfort from the strong, steady beat.
“Go on.” He kissed her brow. “I’ve got you.”
She closed her eyes and released her spirit, soaring through the velvety darkness, focused only on the light. For a moment the tranquil, walled garden behind their villa appeared, but the image shifted, bent, and skewed. Struggling to retrieve her visualization, she fought against the uninvited images forming within her brain.
A vast field of wild flowers unrolled like a carpet. Their fragrance filled her head, made her dizzy with their intoxicating perfume. The images undulated all around her and she sank to her knees. Soft petals of every imaginable hue caressed her palms.
How could she visualize colors she’d never seen? The high arching sky mixed purple and blue. She rolled onto her back and watched pastel clouds drift past. Rubbing her eyes with her fingertips, she tried to concentrate. Why did she feel so muddled? Muddled. That’s what she sensed when she tried to contact Belle. Krysta sat up. This was Belle’s visualization. She was in Belle’s mind.
“Belle?” she called. “Where are you?”
She heard a rustle, a giggle, and then a sob.
“Belle. Let me help you. Where are you?”
Krysta felt pressure against her back and gasped, but some unseen force kept her from turning around. “I’m so tired,” Belle whispered from directly behind her.
Why wouldn’t she show herself? Krysta felt someone lean against her back, but she could hardly move. “What can we do? Should we bring you out of stasis? How is Seth doing this? Is he harming you?”
“He doesn’t mean to. He just needs so much energy and I have so little left.”
Belle made it sound like she was...
“Please, no,” Krysta whispered on a sob. With a surge of Mystic energy, Krysta broke free of the hindrance. She pivoted and took Belle by the shoulders, gently turned her around. Belle’s once shiny hair hung in lank strands about her shoulders, distinct lines bracketed her mouth and framed eyes so faded and deeply sunken it was hard to tell their color. “Oh, Belle, let me help you. How can we help you? What can we do?”
Pulling her sister’s limp body into her arms, Krysta rocked her. Anger coiled until Krysta ached with the need to lash out. Hydran’s cadaverous arm, reaching from beyond the grave, dealt the final blow. Krysta was powerless to stop the events he had set in motion.
Sobbing into Belle’s hair, Krysta stubbornly shoved back each surge of anguish, fixing her focus on her twin. “Tell me what to do. How can we help you?”
Belle eased away from her and managed an anemic smile. “You can’t change the past. You can only protect the future. A wise man once told you that. You should listen to him more often.”
“No!” Krysta covered her face with her hands, shaking with rage. “I will not lose you.”
Warm, and sweet with the scent of flowers, a breeze curled around her, rocked her, made her sway. She couldn’t bear to lower her hands and see Belle’s emaciated features and the resignation in her sister’s eyes.
“Krysta.”
The breeze seemed to whisper her name. Something touched her shoulder and Krysta gasped. The descent of her hands stalled at her mouth. She held her eyes wide open, afraid to blink. Their mother stood beside Belle. Radiant and vital, Krystabel’s nimbus encompassed Belle’s kneeling form.
Krysta shot to her feet and hugged her mother, crying out softly when her arms closed around a tangible body. “Oh, Mama, thank God you’re here. How do we help her? Are you back for good? What does all this mean?”
Krystabel eased her away and demanded attention with her gaze.
“We haven’t much time. The portal won’t remain open indefinitely and I can’t stay here.”
Raking her hands through her hair, Krysta helped Belle to her feet. “What portal? I don’t understand any of this.”
“Summon Charlotte.” Krystabel slipped her arm around Belle’s waist, but spoke to Krysta. “It’s past time I was reunited with my sister.”
“This is Belle’s visualization,” Krysta said. “I’m not sure I can bring Charlotte here.”
“Just call out to her. She’ll come to you.”
Krysta had no more than formed Charlotte’s name within her mind when the High Queen materialized in a shimmering burst of color.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Her lovely features reflected a nearly comic mixture of excitement and compassion. She moved immediately to Krystabel, her turquoise gaze memorizing every nuance of her twin’s face.
“There really isn’t much time,” Krystabel said again. “I wish this could be different, but there is so much to explain. I must focus on information.”
Charlotte gave a regal nod. “I understand.”
“When Tal purged the metaphysical plane to free you from Joon’s Mystic trap, he opened a portal.”
“He had no choice,” Charlotte protested. “The trap was siphoning my energy. I would have died.”
Krystabel smiled. “Why are you defending him? This is an explanation, not an accusation.” Her voice took on a brittle edge as she went on. “That day in Hydran’s lab, when his men tortured poor Saura, I had to absorb her injuries. There was no other way to save her.”
“You were brave and selfless to do so,” Krysta said emphatically.
“Perhaps.” Her mother paused, her expression inscrutable. Was she weighing all her bravery had cost? Or simply collecting her thoughts?
“I completely depleted my Mystic energy, so I retreated to the metaphysical plane,” Krystabel continued. “Even there, I had no control. I was tossed about, buffeted and battered until I sensed the portal. It seemed my only option, so I stepped through. The other dimension has sustained me, but I don’t belong there. And yet I can’t return to this dimension either. It’s very confusing.”
Ontarian Chronicles 2: Operation Hydra Page 25
