Parallel Seduction

by Deidre Knight

  She shook her head, smiling. "You amaze me, Jared." Her voice was barely more than a whisper, raspy with lust and need.

  His scarred body, his silvering hair, the lines around his eyes: She never seemed to notice any of his physical shortcomings. All his mate ever saw was a strange perfection in him. How had he ever been so blessed by the heavens?

  She took a step near, and a quiet growl sprang from his chest. Her eyes widened at his expression of desire, but she said nothing. Stepping into the bubbling springs, he gave her a command. "In. The. Water." He groaned. "Please, Kelse."

  More growling that he couldn't seem to stop. His whole body tensed, then relaxed, then tensed again. He felt his eyes water, widen, narrow to slits. She suddenly trembled a bit; on the periphery of his thoughts, he wondered if somehow he'd frightened her, but didn't bother to think any further on that idea.

  "Water, Kelsey," he whispered again, submerging himself fully. "Now!" He'd have sworn even more steam spiraled off the pool once he'd entered, but perhaps he merely imagined that.

  "Absolutely, Commander," she teased, glancing down at him with what could only be called a coy expression.

  Gods, he adored her. Gods he wanted her, now, now, now. He felt something highly irrational skip through his brain, something about possessing her on every planet. He thought even to murmur it to her, but stopped himself, sliding deeper into the hot, beckoning cauldron of steam and water.

  "Ah." He sighed in deep pleasure, leaning back against the rocks, and then stretched his arms across the slick stones, watching his mate with lusty arousal. First her gloves tumbled to the stony ground, then her sweater and scarf and little knit cap, and at last her pants. Socks? Underwear? "Hurry," he begged, aware that he sounded as breathless as a fledgling. "Please, love."

  She stood before him, curving and pure in the misty midday light. "Jared," she whispered, running her fingers through her hair, shaking it out. He felt his eyes narrow to slits, his vision heightening like mad of its own volition. His chest grew tight as a drum, the pounding muscle within it causing a loud rush of blood in his ears.

  She repeated his name, louder, "Jared?"

  "Umm?" he managed, blinking at her.

  "It's happening," she whispered, watching him. "You do know that now, don't you? That it's finally happening?" How could she sound so calm? So self-possessed? Was she even right about the timing? She took another step closer, painstaking in her calmness as she spoke to him. "It's been happening," she continued, shivering from the cold, "only I don't think you've wanted to trust it. Or even understood it. And it's not like it's just today .…"

  She stopped, studying him, gauging his reaction as he swam toward the edge where she stood.

  His mouth felt dry, his voice thick and from a distant tunnel, but he whispered at her, "You fear I will back away?"

  She wrapped her fair arms about herself, shivering protectively. "Yes." She knew how he'd fought these mating cycles; for all his life he'd resisted—but the two of them had passed a point of no return here.

  Like a manacle, he clasped her ankle. "In the water, mate." He flashed a dark gaze up at her, obviously meaning to magnetize. "Or I shall seemingly die." Then they both burst into uncontrollable laughter—the pure laughter of release and joy.

  Kelsey splashed into the water and right into her husband's arms. Nipping at her neck, he made soft rumbling sounds of pleasure: no words, only wild sounds that vibrated through her chest as he pulled her close. One thing was certain in Kelsey's mind: Jared had no idea just how strongly he'd been coming onto her recently. And in the past two days his insatiable need for her, as well as his pureblood Refarian expressions of desire—the growling, the plaintive groaning, the shaky-handed grasping, all signs she'd read about in his ancestor's journal, indicating the beginnings of his cycle—these things had been intensifying crazily.

  She'd saved the invitation to the hot springs until just now. On purpose. It had all been part of the plan: When he stood on the brink, ready to fall completely into his season, she'd planned to seduce him here, thus bringing it fully upon him. It was a perfect, infallible strategy.

  Jared leaned back against the stones, eyeing her with a hooded, lustful gaze. "Wife." He reached for her breathlessly. "Near. I need you now."

  Swimming into his grasp, she allowed him to capture her, the muscles of his powerful forearms rippling as he held her close. Absolute alien power, unbridled with her. He sat on the rocks, leaning back against the craggy ledge of the bowled springs. On his upper lip little beads of sweat had formed, glistening on his morning's growth of dark beard. Slipping atop him she felt his desire, as hard as any of the rocks surrounding them. He cupped her bottom, nuzzling her astride him. Jared's eyes drifted shut and he made a warm sound of pleasure that she had never once heard from the man, something akin to a purring rumble.

  Leaning his head backward, he seemed almost intoxicated. Kelsey couldn't repress a giddy smile; she loved him when he got like this, loved his utter abandon to their joining. She was smiling at the image of him, so lost in the thrall of their mating, when suddenly the water's surface began glowing. And then, without any warning, it was as if the pool began to electrify.

  Jared's dark eyes widened, ringed with panic. "Kelsey!" he cried, his voice thick. "Get out! Hurry!"

  She gaped at him, and he shoved her off his lap—hard. "Out! Now!" he roared, scrambling at the edges of the rocks, panting. A wild snarl exploded from him, his eyes rolling into his head, and she seemed unable to move at first. He finally fixed her with a gaze unlike anything she'd ever seen—in any creature—in her whole life. His muscled chest heaved and pulled at air; he motioned wildly with his hands, flailing first in one direction then another; the water snapped with a kind of electricity again.

  She was suddenly afraid for both their lives, but especially his, given how erratically he was changing. "Jared," she said, attempting to soothe him, "I'm going to help you out of here."

  He unleashed a barrage of Refarian words that she couldn't understand, gesturing again toward the edge. He wanted her out—and now. She scrambled onto the frozen ledge, out of the water, which was growing more and more luminous by the moment—as was Jared's body. He gazed up at her, pain and helplessness in his eyes, and in the space of a heartbeat, he Changed. He Changed completely, until the water lapped over the edges of the rocks, and there was only him. Beautiful, magnetic, mystical Jared in his most natural form. He filled the whole of the pool, glowing and powerful, like some giant sun brought to Earth just for her.

  Even shivering there on the ledge of the pool, she felt his energy fanning toward her. She backed away as the water began to bubble and churn; inside her mind she heard his plaintive whisper. Go away! Now!

  "I'm not leaving you here." She reached for one of the towels she'd stowed here ahead of time. Behind her the candles she'd lit an hour ago all extinguished simultaneously—then, as if catching Jared's energy, illuminated again with a flame ten times higher than they should have possessed. The water roiled faster, swirling with currents of power. The pool itself had become almost a kind of cauldron, containing all of Jared's magnificence, but threatening at any moment to overflow the confining boundaries. Mate … mate … Leave me.

  "I won't go!" she shouted back, gesturing at the glowing ball of power that was her mate in his Change. "I'm staying, Jared." God, he was stubborn beyond reason. She was terrified, no doubt about it, but she would never leave him here alone, trying to find his way through the first true moments of his cycle.

  No. Control! Then smatterings of Refarian, broken by halting English inside her own mind. No hurt. You! Go. More Refarian; then the water suddenly popped with harsh electric currents and he flung himself outward, speeding into the shadowed forest around them, away from her.

  If she wouldn't leave him, he would leave her; that was obviously his plan. "Jared!" she called, his name echoing in the silent woods. "Jared! Please, let's stay together. Jared!"

  The tears came fast and hard
. She watched the pines in the distance illuminate. Then, the bright light seemed to fade as he put more and more ground between the two of them—until only shady darkness stared back at her. "Oh, Jared, don't hide," she whimpered, and buried her face in her hands.

  Chapter Five

  "Lieutenant Dillon discharged himself an hour ago." Disapproval was evident in the medic's voice.

  Hope glanced toward Anna, who leaned on the counter with what seemed to be a disturbed expression on her face. "Let me get this straight," Anna asked. "Dillon is no longer a patient here?"

  "We couldn't exactly prevent him from leaving," the woman told them, tapping data into some kind of device, although Hope couldn't see what it was.

  "Well, did you try to stop him?" Anna insisted, obviously upset by this news. As was Hope—from what she'd seen, Scott had no business being out of the medical complex so soon. He'd been drugged up and delirious as recently as last night.

  The nurse sighed, and Hope gathered that she looked up at them both. "He's a mind of his own, the lieutenant. We did everything in our power to get him to stay, but there was no convincing him."

  "Was he even able to walk out of his own volition?" Hope asked worriedly. "His legs … how could he leave unless in a wheelchair? On a stretcher?"

  A beeping noise interrupted them—some patient calling for the nurse—and she moved around the desk. "The healers visited him. He felt better, and we tried to explain that the relief might only be temporary. He ignored us, grabbed a pair of crutches, a packet of pain pills, and hobbled his way back toward base. Wouldn't let a single medic escort him to quarters, either."

  "Stupid, stubborn man," Anna muttered under her breath.

  Hope pretty much had to agree with that assessment. A lifetime of dealing with doctors and her diabetes was enough to convince her that he'd made a ridiculous choice. "What was he thinking?" she wondered aloud.

  Anna turned to her, slumping against the counter. "That he'd have a better shot of seeing you outside the medical wing, that's what."

  Hope frowned. "You can't be serious."

  "Oh, trust me. I've known the lieutenant for a long, long time. Determination is his default operating mode."

  "I was coming back—"

  Anna patted her on the arm. "Not enough. Not nearly enough for a warrior like Dillon. He couldn't stand you seeing him laid out like that."

  Hope's thoughts whirled; from all indications, Scott cared for her as much as she did for him, which was a ridiculous thought, at least on the surface. They barely knew each other, only … that wasn't nearly the full truth.

  And she had a feeling that the "truth" was about to confront her, full on, back at the main cabin.

  "I wondered when you'd come to see me." It was Scott's voice in the half darkness of Hope's new quarters. She and Anna were just inside the door, not completely in the room, but not quite in the hallway either. They stood, frozen, as Anna quickly interpreted the layout of events for her.

  "He's lying there in your bunk. Quite at home, I must say, spread out on your pillow and blankets like he owns the place."

  "Heard that," he rumbled, and there was the sound of him stirring.

  "Indeed, sir," Anna chirped, then added, "I'm gone, then," and her booted footsteps immediately retreated down the hallway.

  We're alone now, away from the hospital … and we have some privacy, finally. That was Hope's first thought, and then a second chased right on the heels of that one. What will happen between us now—now that those dreams can become actual reality? The worst part? She knew exactly what an expert he was in bed, and how fine his chiseled body felt beneath her fingertips, all glistening with sweaty sex. And what a great fucking cock the alien possessed, including what he'd apparently done with it inside of her on many an occasion. Great fucking cock, indeed, she thought, stifling a nervous giggle.

  "Come closer," he invited hoarsely, patting the bed beside him.

  "Shouldn't you be in a hospital bed—not my bed?"

  Pushing the door shut with her back, she stood in what was now, at least for her, complete darkness. The late-day sun had slipped low enough that this lower-level room received almost no light, and without the additional hallway illumination, she was marooned.

  "You got a problem with me being in your bed, Harper?"

  "Call me Hope." Damn it, she kept telling people—all kinds of people, all over the base—just to call her by her first name.

  "Hope," he ventured silkily, "I thought you'd like having me here. In your bed. Between your sheets." He paused significantly, then added in a low voice, "Between your legs."

  "I can't believe you just said that."

  "Yeah? Well, you don't know me very well yet."

  "I know you're used to getting what you want—and whenever you want it," she told him, tilting her chin upward proudly. And I'm not easy. I shouldn't be easy, not for you.

  His next words came in Refarian, slippery smooth; perhaps he thought she wouldn't translate them fast enough to understand their meaning. "I can't help what you've been doing to me, Hope. I pray that All will save you from my scoundrel's soul."

  "S'Skautsa, you're no scoundrel," she answered back in his own language, taking a tentative step into the darkness, following the sound of his slightly erratic breathing. "But you don't belong here."

  "You don't want me in your bed?"

  "I didn't say that."

  He laughed, a throaty rumble of a sound. His raspy voice had done things to her from the very first time she'd heard it on the FBI intercepts she'd been charged with translating. But here with him now? Right here, alone with him in her room, reclining on her lower bunk as he apparently was? Well, it did insane things to her libido.

  "So you do want me," came his reply. And it definitely wasn't a question.

  "You were crazy to leave the medical area so soon."

  "Again—you don't know me very well. Not yet, in this time. Crazy's my middle name. How else could I lead these rebels like I do? It's an insane career, an insane motivation. Jared should've locked me up years ago."

  "Maybe the hospital is his big chance," she volunteered.

  She doubted his entire depiction of himself. Clearly he was a man of intense discipline and honor; the soldiers she'd met on the base all seemed to revere him totally.

  "Jared knows I can't be stopped when I want something, and I definitely want something, Hope," he whispered suggestively, causing goose bumps to form along her arms. The idea that he needed her as much as she needed him caused her to tremble all over. So she focused on the darkness that stood between them. Had Anna left a discarded boot on the floor? Or a strange alien weapon or anything else that might trip her up? Patting her back pocket, she felt the outline of the small folded cane that the medics had given her, at the same time they'd offhandedly mentioned genetic therapy.

  How the hell am I supposed to get from here to there without appearing like a freaking invalid?

  "There's nothing in the way, Hope. You're safe," he told her gently, all his innuendo and sexual tussling gone. Suddenly he was her rescuer all over again, as he had been at the base. "You can walk straight to me."

  It was as if he'd read her mind. Maybe he did, she thought, taking a first tentative step.

  "You're safe," he repeated. "I won't let you get hurt."

  "That's not a promise anyone can make."

  She knew as much, after believing the doctors thought it was "unlikely" she would lose her eyesight and "likely" she'd be able to one day have a child. Some promises should never be made—not the kind that could easily get broken.

  "I meant that I wouldn't let you get hurt walking over here," he said awkwardly, as if covering his tracks. But she knew better. She heard him patting the place on the bed beside himself again.

  "What about here, at your compound?" She took another step toward the gravelly, deep voice. "Can you protect me here, too?"

  His breath seemed to catch in his throat. "I won't let you get hurt, Hope," he repeated.
"I mean it. Didn't I prove that back at Warren?"

  She stood still, hesitating. He had saved her life—there was absolutely no question about that fact—and been horribly injured in the process. "I don't want anything to happen to you, not because of"—she hesitated, taking several determined steps toward the bed—"my limitations. Not again."

  "You're here," he said softly, and suddenly the strong grip of his hand encircled her forearm. Without another word he pulled her down beside him, practically atop him, with a rough, awkward tumble, and she found her mouth mere inches from his own, her palm splayed against a hard, muscular chest. Beneath her hand his heartbeat was strong and quick. She could feel the heat of his breath against her face, could smell the masculine scent of his body, different from other men, unique to him. Perhaps alien, she couldn't say for sure.

  Hip to hip they lay, she half on her side, he flat on his back and definitely staring at her. It wasn't fair, this advantage he had over her—that he could see everything she was doing when she felt so powerless. Helpless. Captivated by everything about him. And in that moment he kissed her. No warning or notice, just his warm, full mouth crushing against hers, urging her to open to him. So she did, without holding back at all, wrapping both arms about him, burrowing closer. She curled her fingers through the dark hair at his nape; it was a little bit curly and wiry-thick. As their kiss deepened, she rubbed at the base of his neck, feeling cordons of muscle that led to his powerful shoulders.

  After several moments he pulled back from the kiss, panting against her face. Their mingled breath was the only sound in the darkness that surrounded her, until he did the strangest thing: He began to sniff her face, in long and short bursts, pressing his face into her neck and shoulder. Then her hair, dragging in long inhalations of breath. Sniffing? This was a totally new one on her. Granted, she hadn't had a ton of dates lately, but as far as she remembered, that had never part of the dating or sexual code.