His laughter began deep in his gut and rolled out of his mouth, filling the bedroom. Angelica punched him weakly. Rolling both of them to the side,Mage wrapped her in his arms, raised her chin and met her eyes.
“For the next three months, don’t give a thought to replacing me. After that?” He shrugged and traced a finger over her lips. “I find I like you exceeding well, Dr. Giverny—have since the moment I met you. Who knows how I’ll feel in ninety days?”
Tear-spiked lashes surrounded the violet eyes that smiled up at him. “I find I like you exceedingly well, also, Captain DeLan. As you say, who knows?”
He rolled to his back and pulled the bedcovers over both of them. At least she made me forget about Tristan for a while. With the lovely doctor snugged firmly under one shoulder, her head resting on his chest, he fell asleep.
Early morning half-light shining in his eyes woke him. Angelica had rolled to her back and slept with arms akimbo and legs sprawled over his thighs. She looked delectable. He called himself several unflattering names. He should leave her alone, but he couldn’t resist. He shifted to lie between her legs and brought his mouth to her swollen flesh with gentle lapping strokes. Her regular breathing hitched and he glanced over the glossy brown curls on her pubic mound to meet a half-lidded violet gaze.
“Again?”
He smiled at the incredulity in her voice. “If I can’t make you beg for it, I’ll stop. How’s that?” Angelica flopped back into her pillows with a wail that sounded more like surrender than protest.
When he left her, the sun had cleared the horizon fully and the new day was upon them. He chuckled at her somnolent form collapsed in the bed. She gave no indication she was interested in moving, but he had to be up and away. A disordered sheet covered one leg and part of her abdomen but the rest of her glorious self remained in full view. She finally opened one eye and peered at him when, fully dressed, he bent to kiss her good-bye. “You are an incredible woman, Dr. Giverny. I’ll be in touch.”
As he drew back from the kiss, a smile lingered on her lips but she didn’t open her eyes. “Mmmhmm. You are a total stud, Captain DeLan, but you know that.”
As the lift descended to the ground floor, Mage enjoyed the complete relaxation that infused his muscles. For the first time in almost a year, the daily plague of sexual frustration had vanished. For the moment, it seemed his nagging libido was satisfied. He stretched and opened the door to the outside. Ah, life was good.
“Magellan DeLan, what the seven hells are you doing coming out of Angelica Giverny’s apartment at this hour of the morning?”
Mage stopped in his tracks. “Tristan.” The door closed behind him. “I might ask you the same thing. What are you doing in front of Angelica Giverny’s apartment at this hour of the morning?”
“I’m her bodyguard. I’m supposed to be here.” Tris straightened with a growl and hurled the two cups of kaffé he’d been holding to the ground. “Answer my fucking question. Why are you here?”
Mage eyed Tristan and replied mildly, “If you want to know, you’ll have to ask the lady.” Mage didn’t wait for a response. He nodded and sauntered off, well aware that Tristan was quivering with repressed emotion. Anger? Jealousy? Now that was an intriguing thought. And just who is he jealous of? Me or Angelica? Interesting. Mage couldn’t account for the ridiculous notion that popped into his head. Perhaps he wants us both. I wonder how Angelica would feel about that?
In spite of his sexual satiation, his groin stirred at the thought of an encounter with the fair Angelica that included Tristan. Ah, fuck. I’m so out of my depth with him. Tris means to have me and I don’t know if surrender is wise. It would be better to avoid Tristan completely until Mage decided whether or not he wanted to take their interaction to a more intimate level. After last night, he knew what he wanted to propose. No, forget it. Tris would never agree to a threesome.
Chapter Six
Tris watched the tight ass of the object of his lust walk away and forced himself not to chase Mage down. Well,shit. The man looked as relaxed as a stud horse after breeding a mare. Tristan’s day continued its slide into the slush pit. Ole violet-eyes didn’t roll out of bed and stagger out to meet him until almost midday. He didn’t care about the late start. It was how she looked—how she acted. From the careful way she walked, the slight grimace when she sat and the dreamy look that came over her face when she thought no one watched, he just knew Mage had fucked her silly. He couldn’t bait her into anger either. She simply smiled and murmured something placating.In the face of her unruffled composure, he retreated intosullen silence and brooded.
“Dr. Giverny, Lady Katrine DeClousey is here for her final neuro-pathing.”
Tristan closely examined the dark-headed woman Angelica’s attending nurse ushered into the doctor’s primary exam and treatment room. Her beauty was extraordinary, but more notable was the vulnerability and fear that shone from her expressive mahogany-colored eyes. The woman’s gaze flew to him immediately upon entrance and she shrank into the nurse/attendant. In his opinion, were the attendant’s arms not wrapping her waist, at the sight of him, Lady DeClousey would have bolted. Compassion replaced by anger spiked through him and he fell back to a far corner, trying his best to look innocuous. What type of treatment would create such distress at the mere sight of an unknown male? Tris didn’t want to speculate.
Angelica flew to Katrine and held one of the lady’s hands gently. “Lady Katrine, this gentleman is my bodyguard, Tristan DeHelios. He is Verdantian, and while he may look like a bad guy, he is harmless to you. He is here to protect us, like the Khlossian, Tok. You remember Tok, from the Revertar? Huge scary guy but gentle and kind?”
Under Angelica’s soothing patter, the woman took a deep breath and offered Tris a tentative, “Sir.”
Tristan returned her acknowledgement and murmured, “I’m just Tristan, my lady. I’ll also respond to ‘Hey, you.’” A surge of triumph flooded him when Katrine nodded shyly and attempted a wobbly smile.
“Tristan, then,” she whispered.
“Lady Katrine, if you will, please get comfortable on the treatment chaise. Nurse Jeanette will hook you up and we will start your final re-pathing.” Angelica beamed a smile at DeClousey as her busy fingers traced over red pathways forming on a holographic display of a human brain and spinal column. “You are almost there, Katrine. We’re at the end of a long process and you’ve been a star patient. In another three hours, more or less, your world will have changed, permanently, for the better. Nurse Jeanette is administering a light sedative. When you awake,all your aberrant programming will be gone and you will once again be yourself and only yourself. Now, breathe deeply, relax and count backward from twenty for me.”
After Katrine’s voice faltered and went quiet at fifteen, Tris asked in a hushed whisper, “That hologram is Lady DeClousey’s brain?”
“Yes. You can speak normally. She doesn’t hear you.” Angelica indicated the hologram sparkling in the air next to her. “The red pathways are those inserted by Lontz and his scientist. We’re going to untangle that mess and reinstate normal neuro-connectors without damaging Lady Katrine’s brain—a somewhat delicate procedure. I would appreciate no distractions. So, please, if you would not speak?” After her softly murmured request, Angelica and her assistant dropped all pretense of congeniality. Their concentration focused keenly, grimly, upon the holographic mockup.
The clipped voice of her assistant continually read aloud the displays of ever-changing numbers under headings whose names had no meaning to him. What was “temporal lobe absorption rate” or “percent neurogenesis in the hippocampus,” for the Mother’s sake? Obviously, the numbers meant something to Angelica. Her fingers flew across the holograph. Brow creased, muttering under her breath, she erased existing red lines and replaced them with tracers of cobalt blue. Occasionally, the red paths stubbornly reinstated themselves as if by magick. Time and time again, her industrious fingers rerouted sparks of pulsing scarlet into paths of cool indigo.
Tris silently watched, intrigued and impressed as this tiny woman rewired a living brain.
Hours later, he escorted Angelica to the small café on the grounds of the medcenter and sat with her as she drank a tall fruit drink. Her hands trembled and lines of fatigue creased her forehead. Her eyelids drifted closed.
“How many people are qualified to do what you just did?” Angelica’s eyes flew open in surprise.
“Remapping a brain?”
“If that is what you were doing, yes.”
Angelica shrugged on a tired exhale. “When I graduated med school there were… half a dozen? I don’t know. Perhaps by now there are more. It’s an obscure specialty. The cerebral probe machines that warp the mind like this have been outlawed universe-wide, so this kind of brain damage is rare.” She took a sip of her drink and rubbed her face. Tris crossed his arms and gazed thoughtfully at Angelica. She really is quite special. What did the Tetriarch have to promise to get her to a backwater planet like Verdantia?
Angelica was oblivious to his scrutiny. Her hand propped up her head as her eyelids closed. “The neuro-repathing is crucial in the battle to reintegrate a woman’s personality, to return herto who she is meant to be. Normally, personality is an ever-evolving trait. The brain is constantly learning. Lontz’s scientist found a way to block the learning receptors after freezing a personality at a certain point in development. In this case, an unnaturally subservient state.” She mumbled her explanation, never opening her eyes. The reason for her extreme fatigue slapped Tristan in the face. Magellan DeLan. And just like that, he was angry all over again.
The week passed and his admiration for the skill of Dr. Giverny grew apace with his frustration with Mage. That gods-be-damned, black-haired, green-eyed bastard had thoroughly screwed Tristan’s game. No—she had thoroughly screwed his game by seducing the man Tris had marked as his own. It was Angelica Giverny’s fault. In spite of his growing respect for her, she’d misjudged him if she thought he’d roll over and let her sweep Magellan out of his life before Tris had a chance to sample what he’d rejected eight years before.
Adding to his discontent, Mage had begun to avoid him. His calls went unreturned. Mage politely refused his written invitations to dinner with no excuse given. Tris knew the man was busy prepping the Revertar for dry dock, but enough was enough.
***
Tristan brushed the front of his dress coat and straightened the fall of lace from his jabot and cuffs while the petty officer of the VNV Revertar examined his formal invitation to dine with the captain—the invitation Tristan had swiped from Angelica’s mail—though Tris preferred to think of it as “intercepted and redirected.” The young junior officer straightened and with a smart salute, handed the crisp white card with raised black script back to Tris.
“Dr. Giverny, I’ll inform the captain you’ve arrived. It’s a pleasure to have you onboard, sir. I hope you and Captain DeLan enjoy your dinner. I know the cooks have been working on something special. Would you like a crew member to escort you to the captain’s private wardroom?”
Tris smiled warmly. “No, I know the way, but thank you,” he eyed the officer’s name tag, “Petty Officer Grant.”
Tris walked briskly down several hallways, up in a lift and then down another corridor. He’d studied a schematic of the ship before coming and this time knew precisely where he was going. The wardroom was exactly as plotted and he opened the door and stepped inside. Mouth watering fragrances wafted from silver serving dishes arrayed on a sideboard that stretched the length of the small room. A central table was set with immaculate white linens and gleaming tableware. Mage’s voice came from a small pantry off the larger room. “Angelica, welcome. I hope you like…” His voice trailed off as he exited the pantry holding two clear goblets half-filled with a blush-pink liquid. With a composure Tristan rather admired, Mage set the two glasses on the sideboard and faced him. “Tristan.” A dark eyebrow arched over a green eye. “I suppose if you are here I shouldn’t expect Dr. Giverny.”
“If you were to ask Petty Officer Grant, Dr. Giverny did arrive for a private dinner with the captain, but no, Angelica will not be joining us.”
A smile lurked around the corners of Mage’s mouth. “I see. Is she tied up somewhere in her apartment or did you simply intercept my invitation?”
Tristan chuckled. “I suspect she would enjoy being tied up, but no, I appropriated the invitation. She never saw it.” Tristan held Mage’s gaze and prowled toward him. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
Mage stepped sideways to place a large armchair between them. He countered Mage’s movement, and Mage slipped behind the dining table with agile grace. With a self-deprecating laugh, Tristan stopped and held his hands palm up in surrender. “I simply want to have a pleasant dinner with you before you leave for who knows how long to put the Revertar into dry dock. I promise I won’t accost you.”
“Your word as a gentleman.”
Tris nodded. “My word as a gentleman.”
Mage sighed and relaxed. “Have a seat. Will you drink a glass of Zeta Starlight? It’s a pricey liquor imported from Alpha Centauri. Too fruity a bouquet for my taste, but it’s Angelica’s favorite. I’ve opened the bottle. It would be a shame to waste it. I can offer a Pottsdim chaser.” Mage smiled and Tristan immediately discarded his promise not to accost Mage.
The man was too beautiful. The careful tailoring of his dress whites displayed his broad shoulders and trim waist. The skirt of his jacket rode above uniform pants that cupped his ass in an entirely distracting fashion. Mage had dressed to impress. Tristan was impressed. He vowed he would see Mage stripped down as the Great Mother had made him before too many more hours passed. My sweet Magellan, I’m not a gentleman. I’m a nobleman. They’re not always one and the same. Evidently he’d let the silence stretch too long, or Mage was better at reading him than he’d thought, for the man cleared his throat.
“Tristan, you have that look. You gave your word.”
“Yes. My word as a gentleman. That I did.” Tris smiled disarmingly and was pleased when, after a long look of evaluation, Mage took a deep breath and once more relaxed.Tris wanted Mage off guard.
He accepted the pink liquor Mage held out and sat down at the table. Mage sat opposite him and rang a small hand bell. A young female sailor dressed in a crisp apron responded promptly and attended them throughout an excellent dinner. Tristan steered the conversation toward the latest advances in the hyper-drive and the new ISNAC-7 navigation system that would shortly be installed on the Revertar. Warming to the topic of all the new toys Mage would have to play with, their discussion became animated and time flew.
As the final course was cleared away, Mage rose and stepped into the small pantry and returned with two tumblers of a dark gold. “Your Pottsdim, as promised.”
“Thank you.” Tris sipped at the dark liquid, rolling it in his mouth in appreciation before swallowing.
“Will there be anything else, Sir?” the young sailor who’d been attending them asked.
“No, Janette, thank you very much,” Mage said with a smile. “You’re relieved. I’ll carry on from here. Please tell the rest of my wardroom staff they are at liberty until 1200 hours tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir.” With a snap to attention and a crisp salute, the young woman exited and closed the door quietly behind her.
“Alone at last,” Tristan quipped and raised his glass to Mage.
“You’re incorrigible.” Mage laughed and took a careful sip of his drink. “Would you like a tour of the bridge?”
You are trying very hard to avoid being alone with me, Captain. Damn you. Tris gritted his teeth and pasted a pleased expression on his face. The offer of a close-up look at the bridge of a starship was a potent palliative. He tossed back the remainder of his Pottsdim. “I’d love it.”
Tristan enjoyed observing Mage in his element almost as much as he reveled in exploring the sophisticated tech devices that powered and controlled the Revertar. The man was a
natural leader and it was obvious his crew thought highly of him. As they strolled back to Mage’s quarters after a thoroughly fascinating tour, Tris had a gut check moment. He really liked Mage. He really, really liked Mage—more than that, he respected what the adult Mage had made of himself. Unlike me, still an errand boy for my older brother. Tris snorted in self-disgust. Well, I’m not asking him to marry me, so where’s the harm in showing him a good time and trying to mend some old wounds? Assuming I can get him to stop acting like a virgin on her wedding night.
When they entered Mage’s cabin, Tris glanced around, curious to see what sort of accommodations were offered to a ship’s captain. The room was surprisingly spacious, with thick, sound-absorbing carpeting, a writing desk and chair, two comfortable-looking armchairs set at right angles to each other with a table between and a separate alcove for a double bed. One sim-wood paneled wall contained a personal food replicator, a media and computation center and a monitor that scrolled a continuous readout of the ship’s vital stats.
“Purity, please wake me at 0800 hours and remind me to call Dr. Giverny before we depart Arkodaenia,” Mage said.
“Yes, Captain. Will Prince DeHelios require overnight accommodations?”
Tris swept Mage with a casual glance that was anything but casual. What was the man going to say?
“Not at this time, Purity. Thank you.”
Tristan relaxed into one of the armchairs and smiled at Mage. He didn’t require separate overnight quarters. Mage’s bed was big enough for two. “Purity?”
Mage cleared his throat. “Yes. Someone’s idea of a joke, I think.”
“The AI knew I wasn’t Angelica.”
Mage snorted. “There is little that gets by Purity. She runs anidentity scan on everyone who boards the ship. The watch officer who allowed you on board never bothered to check the monitor. That oversight will be corrected.” Mage held up a decanter. “Another drink?”
Hers to Captivate Page 6
