Parallel Heat

by Deidre Knight

  ‘‘Wh-what’s happening to me?’’ she wondered, not even meaning to voice the feeling aloud.

  ‘‘Told you, Haven.’’ Scott’s cynical, sideways smile spread wide. ‘‘It’s a really good bar.’’

  Her eyes watered and the fire inside her belly twisted tighter. She wondered if she should leave, her Change had begun to feel that imminent. There wasn’t a rational explanation for the sensations quivering throughout her body. Scott didn’t understand—he couldn’t possibly, not without being Refarian Argante. She had a dual nature, something that only she and Jared possessed because of their rare and royal bloodlines. Only one man had ever brought out this excited compulsion to Change: Jared Bennett.

  ‘‘No, Scott,’’ she hissed, leaning toward him, ‘‘there’s someone here. Something that’s . . . affecting me. Very powerfully.’’

  His black eyebrows lifted toward his hairline, his expression growing more serious. ‘‘What do you think it is?’’

  She glanced about them in a heated rush, feeling even her lips quiver in anticipation. ‘‘I . . . don’t know. I don’t. Gods, this is crazy.’’

  ‘‘Is it a premonition?’’ he asked, tilting his chair back to the floor and leaning close. ‘‘Are you picking up on something?’’

  She shook her head. That wasn’t it; it was a person, someone who was both arousing and confounding her without so much as revealing himself. She sniffed at the air, but the rank smell of human was too overpowering, clouding her senses.

  ‘‘Keep looking,’’ he urged seriously as the waitress returned, bearing their two bottles of beer. Once he paid the woman, he slid hers toward her, cautioning, ‘‘Maybe you shouldn’t drink this. Better keep your senses open.’’

  ‘‘Or maybe it would help me calm down,’’ she suggested, placing a palm over her lower abdomen. Such fire! Such intensity! Every cell in her body begged her to Change, right here, in full view of her enemies, and it was all she could do to tamp down that painful need.

  Scott waved his hand, urging her to take a drink, and tilted his own bottle back for a long chug of the liquid. She did likewise, and coughed at the unfamiliar, bitter taste. She had drunk champagne and wine at various celebrations in their compound—and had consumed alcohol back home—but never anything like this strange beverage. Still, it instantly caused a soothing effect, so she took another quick swig, then, gripping the bottle with both trembling hands, she searched the bar again. Someone—or something—had been inciting her Change in the most powerful way she had ever experienced. Not even in her mating cycle had she ever yearned like this. Never in her life had she experienced such pure craving.

  When she’d almost thought her intuition wouldn’t solve the riddle, her eyes took in a sight of unbelievable, rugged beauty. There by the pool table stood one of the most breathtaking human creatures she had ever seen. Pool cue gripped in both hands like a battle stick, he watched the game unfold, reminding her of an ancient Refarian warrior. Upon seeing him, the heat coursing through her body took another spiraling turn upward. He was the source! The one calling out to her somehow. Yet he never so much as looked in her direction; instead, his alert gaze was riveted on the action of the pool game.

  The human was at least as tall as Jared, and wore black jeans that clung to what were obviously extremely powerful and well-muscled thighs. For a moment, her mind supplied an abrupt image of her own thighs locked around those large, sturdy ones. She felt his breath panting against her cheek, heard him murmuring her name over and over. She closed her eyes, shivering, and tried to shake such lurid imagery from her mind. When she opened her eyes again a moment later, he had shifted position, sidling around the edge of the pool table languidly.

  She now had a much better view of the human stranger. His skin was dark, olive-toned, and his body, all range and height and shadow. Sleepy, hooded eyes studied the play of his companion. They were such dark, sensual eyes that they riveted Thea’s full attention, forcing the very breath from her lungs. No longer aware of Scott or the furnace inside her body, it seemed the entire world around them receded completely, leaving only the two of them. She couldn’t possibly look away, not if she tried. She could only stare at the man and wish. Wish that she weren’t a soldier, in a war, here on an alien planet. Wish that he were a man she might find common cause with, and not only for one night. Wish that he might turn and notice her, catching her eye across the smoke-filled barroom.

  It’s because he reminds me of Jared, she told herself. He’s tall and beautiful and rugged—of course this man makes my heart ache. A wave of despair welled anew. But then the unexpected happened; he did turn and notice her, pinning her with his penetrating, fathomless gaze for at least ten full seconds before finally glancing away. The languid look was gone from his dark eyes then, just for that moment, replaced by something sharp and fierce and hungry; separated by distance, separated by species, nevertheless Thea Haven swore she heard him speak within her mind.

  Marek Shaekai.

  And somehow, some way she knew that name.

  Jared padded across the bedroom, and reached for his robe where it lay across the back of his desk chair. He had to shower and get down to Base Ten before third shift began. Staring over his shoulder one last time, he marveled at the sight of his sweet human wife, already asleep again in his bed. Slipping into his bathrobe, he settled at his small corner desk for a quick overview of the coming day. Stretching his back, he leaned into his chair and smiled. All these years and he’d been alone. Fought alone, lived alone. For the first morning in his life, he was beginning a day’s leadership with his soulmate by his side. It was a deeply pleasing thought.

  And he was dwelling on that deeply pleasing thought when something unexpected caught his eye. Propped there on his desk, right beyond his open laptop, where it had been blocked from his view until now, was a plain white envelope. Scowling, he stared at the crisp envelope for a full twenty seconds before reaching for it. First, he gave the vellum a sniff and utilized his somewhat limited intuitive abilities to ascertain if the item was dangerous in any way. Probably from one of our people, he thought. A note congratulating us upon our wedding day, nothing more. Harmless. Still, years fighting in this war had taught Jared that nothing should be accepted at face value, and he proceeded with caution.

  That was when he noticed how the envelope was addressed: My dearest Jared and Kelsey . . .

  Thea swore the black-haired man had spun a web about her, somehow magnetizing her to this very spot. ‘‘I know him,’’ she whispered to Scott, nodding in the man’s direction. ‘‘Maybe not precisely, but . . . I heard his name.’’

  Scott frowned. ‘‘What do you mean?’’

  ‘‘In my mind, using my intuition,’’ she explained, and her commanding officer nodded briskly. ‘‘It’s not a name I’ve ever heard before, but it doesn’t sound human.’’

  ‘‘You think he’s one of us?’’ Scott asked, gazing intently at the stranger.

  Thea felt her body quake anew as she watched Marek Shaekai bend low over the table, positioning his cue. Rippling, powerful shoulders hunched over the stick, his eyes narrowing with a steely expression. Dangerous! He’s terribly dangerous. She knew it in the marrow of her being, just as she knew he was someone vitally important in her life. His dark hands closed around the pool stick, and for a brief moment a quicksilver set of images shot through Thea’s mind, dizzying her.

  She pressed her eyes closed and the scene in the bar dissolved. The moment itself dissolved, too, catapulting her into the future . . . or the past . . . or somewhere else entirely, she couldn’t be sure. The images felt like memories, as certain as if they had always existed. In a dark room Marek Shaekai held her hard within his arms, fastening her furiously against his solid body. The muscled bands of his chest pressed against her cheek, and she wanted to move, but couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried to pull away. Between their two souls a cascade of emotions battled for dominance. Uncontained rage. Pain. Betrayal. You aren’t capable of
love, he spat in her ear. She wanted to deny it, wanted to tell him that of course she could love. But then he pressed his mouth against her cheek, blowing out hot, arousing breaths and murmured, Thea, you can’t ever love me because you’re damaged.

  Blinking her eyes, she discovered Scott’s hand on her forearm. ‘‘You all right?’’ he asked, his gaze flicking about the bar, studying the exits, the entrance. She knew he intended to make his move toward Marek, but she reached out a stilling hand.

  ‘‘You can’t go talk to him,’’ she warned in a thick voice. ‘‘It’s not safe.’’

  ‘‘How do you know?’’

  She watched as Marek stood again, a gleam of triumph in his sultry gaze when he scored in his game. For a dangerous enemy, he seemed awfully preoccupied with a simple barroom activity, and unaware of any potential threats. Against the nape of her neck, she felt prescience whisper in a deep, husky voice: I could love you, Thea, if I were still capable of it, but you took that from me.

  ‘‘We n-need to go,’’ she barely managed to stammer. ‘‘Right now.’’

  ‘‘No way,’’ he gritted. ‘‘You’re telling me this guy may be an enemy, possibly Refarian or Antousian or god-only-know what. We aren’t leaving, not now. We have to check him out.’’

  She tugged on his arm, panting, feeling heat sweep downward from her cheeks into her neck. ‘‘He’s not dangerous to us, Scott,’’ she blurted, needing to get out of the bar as quickly as possible. Needing to be anywhere but here, near this threatening man.

  ‘‘Of course he is, and that’s what you’re sensing.’’

  She shook her head adamantly. ‘‘Not to us, Scott. He’s dangerous to me. Only to me—’’

  ‘‘All the more reason I’m staying to find out who he is,’’ he insisted, cutting her off.

  ‘‘It’s not physical.’’ A dubious look came into Scott’s eyes, and she blew out an anguished sigh. ‘‘You won’t understand, but I’ve got to go. Please, let’s just go.’’

  Her friend and commander did not budge from his seat, but instead locked his own brightly penetrating gaze on her. ‘‘Tell me why,’’ he said, and she instantly knew he was beginning to soul-gaze her; he would discover the truth whether she told him or not. She had no choice, not when the man staring into her eyes was an Antousian hybrid who possessed the ability to see deeply into anyone’s soul.

  So she drew in a strengthening breath, her eyes searching out Marek as she might an addictive poison, and prepared to whisper the truth to Scott, the thing she had slowly come to intuit from the very first moment her gaze had locked with Marek’s across the smoky barroom.

  ‘‘Thea? You going to tell me who he is or not?’’ Scott persisted.

  ‘‘I think he’s my lover,’’ she said, unable to wrench her gaze away from the man. Already, he had her in the palm of his very hand.

  Chapter Three

  Jared had been staring at the letter for at least five minutes, perhaps more, and still its contents were no more palatable than when he’d first opened it. The handwriting was almost indecipherable, consisting of a tight, loopy scrawl that proved very difficult to read. Jared glanced over his shoulder to where Kelsey slept, safely tucked beneath his thick bedspread. If the letter was to be believed, it meant she was in terrible danger. Why must those I love most always be unsafe? he wondered with a painful spasm of melancholy and regret. Unsure how best to proceed, Jared set about reading the document once again, determined to understand its contents before waking Kelsey. Spreading the sheet of paper beneath his palm, he began to read:

  My Dearest Jared and Kelsey,

  This is the most difficult letter I’ve ever had to write. There’s so much I need to tell you, but time is running out. I’m not even sure I can make you understand. Still, I’m going to try. That’s the least I can do after everything tonight.

  I have come back to your time from ten years in the future. You’ve known what the mitres can do, that it gives us power over multidimensional space. Easy enough, you’re thinking, anyone could claim that knowledge. Well, try this: Kelsey contains the mitres codes within her mind, and none of your enemies could possibly know that fact. But I know it, which is what proves that I’m exactly who I claim to be—someone who has come to warn you. To protect you, his true king and queen, with his dying breaths.

  My name is Marco McKinley and I will come to you in two years, my king and queen, to serve as your protector. I’m of the Madjin Circle, and have served the royal family for as long as I can remember.

  Kelsey, trust me when I tell you: You are the Beloved of Refaria. Ask Jared, and he’ll explain what that means. The codes can’t be removed from your mind; because of your human DNA, the data fused with you, altering you in a significant way. You’re part Refarian now, with your own unique powers and abilities. Over time, you will develop them, and over time, you’ll teach us how to use the mitres weapon.

  Jared, if we do meet again in the future like I believe we will—if I should do something that seems completely unforgivable . . . traitorous even . . . I beg you not to turn me away. I beg your forgiveness in advance; plead for your trust and friendship no matter what may come in the future.

  You see, I arrived today as your enemy, ready to see you both die. But I’m ending this day—for reasons far too complicated to explain—ready to die for you instead. Because the two of you have always been, and will forever be, my beloved king and queen.

  Yours,

  M.

  It had to be authentic; there was nothing else the letter could possibly be. Who was Marco McKinley? Jared rose from his desk and began to pace the bedroom in agitation. There were too many revelations, too many facets of the document that cast his wife in a dangerous light. The data in her mind . . . the future betrayals. He had to send Kelsey away, back to Laramie. Having her resume her ‘‘normal life’’ was the only way he could possibly protect her, at least until he could sort out a better strategy.

  From his dresser, he scooped up her neatly folded clothes, the ones she’d worn here several days ago. ‘‘Love,’’ he said gruffly, settling on the side of their bed, ‘‘you must wake.’’ Slowly she stirred, rolling away from him, instantly settling into sleep again. ‘‘Kelsey,’’ he persisted, ‘‘wake up. Now.’’

  Her clear blue eyes fluttered open, taking him in through a sleepy haze. ‘‘What’s happened?’’ She squinted at the soft lighting coming from his desk.

  ‘‘You need to get dressed.’’ He pressed the clothes against her chest. ‘‘Quickly, please.’’

  She frowned at his formality. ‘‘Why?’’

  ‘‘Because you must.’’ Perhaps if he spoke simply, invoking his authority, things would go more smoothly between them.

  She bolted upright in bed, both auburn eyebrows knitting together in confusion. ‘‘Has something happened? What’s wrong?’’

  He rose from the bedside, putting his back to her. ‘‘You have to leave.’’ He kept his voice as even and emotionless as possible. Never mind that it was a farce of what he truly felt; he busied himself with methodically donning his uniform. ‘‘There is a situation, and it will be best for you to return to Laramie now.’’

  ‘‘What kind of situation?’’

  ‘‘That does not matter,’’ he answered evenly. ‘‘You must go.’’

  ‘‘Like hell!’’

  ‘‘Kelsey.’’ He sighed, pausing as he tugged a simple black T-shirt over his head. ‘‘This will be so much easier if we don’t fight about it.’’

  Behind him, he heard her feet spring lightly to the floor, and before he could catch his breath, she grabbed his arm. ‘‘Jared, this isn’t happening. No way in the world are you trying to send me away, not now. Not like this—it’s the middle of the night! We just got married.’’ His spine stiffened, and he stood still as a statue, his hand on the waistband of his uniform pants. ‘‘Tell me you aren’t serious!’’ she cried. ‘‘You can’t possibly be.’’

  Slowly, with infinite composure
, he turned to face her, schooling his face into an impassive mask of stone. ‘‘Mate, there has been an incident,’’ he said, not quite meeting her pained gaze. ‘‘I’ve had to make decisions in the past hour, ones that will affect you and me both. I must send you as far from me as possible. Laramie can’t be’’—his throat tightened painfully, a solid knot lodging in it—‘‘far enough away, love. I would send you to Refaria if I could, I swear it.’’

  The anger dissolved from her expression, her familiar blue eyes filling again with love. ‘‘But what happened, Jared? Tell me what’s going on here. I won’t go if you don’t tell me why.’’

  ‘‘Isn’t it enough that I ask it?’’

  ‘‘No,’’ she answered quietly, ‘‘it’s not.’’

  He closed his eyes, feeling his jaw flex and tense. Gods, the woman had a way of penetrating his most careful composure; she always had. ‘‘Kelsey, please,’’ he begged, shaking his head. ‘‘I’m sending Thea and Anika with you, but you’ve got to get out of this camp.’’

  ‘‘Did I do something wrong?’’ she asked, her soft voice wavering uncertainly. ‘‘If I did, just tell me.’’

  Without thinking, he cupped her face within his palms, and crushed his lips against hers, needing to taste her. Within his deepest self, he felt his Change threaten to overtake him, just that quickly. His love for this human was beyond elemental, it consumed everything within his soul. How could he send her away like this?

  Her lips parted hungrily, her tongue exploring the warmth of his mouth as both of her hands closed around his neck. For long, endless moments they communicated that way, just feeling one another. Flickering beneath the surface, their connection begged to open wide—he sensed her try to release it, felt her reaching, plumbing the depths of his soul. But he refused, breaking the kiss, pushing their bond aside.