Parallel Heat

by Deidre Knight

  ‘‘What are you thinking?’’ she asked in a rough voice, rolling onto her side so that they faced one another.

  He stared at the book, blushing. ‘‘That perhaps we have yet more to learn about each other.’’

  ‘‘So the book’s right? About your natural self being linked to your cycles?’’

  ‘‘I-I honestly don’t know.’’ He swallowed hard, realizing that he’d begun to tremble slightly. His hands tightened around the book, snapping it shut. ‘‘The advisory seems to have’’—he paused, daring to look at her through his lashes—‘‘much information. This is good.’’

  She leaned on her elbow, watching him. ‘‘Does it still embarrass you to talk about it? After everything we’ve shared?’’

  He smiled faintly. ‘‘It is still odd, Kelsey, being so vulnerable with you about . . . my nature. What I am. I’ve never shared it with another being before you, not like this.’’

  ‘‘But I love all that you are! I love you, Jared. You know how much I love you, don’t you?’’

  ‘‘You’ve barely seen my fire. Barely at all,’’ he told her softly, staring at the ceiling. ‘‘You think you know, but . . . you have seen little of it.’’

  ‘‘Then show me again,’’ she urged, staring at him seriously. ‘‘Maybe it’s what we need—maybe it’s why we can’t seem to—’’

  He cut her off, unable to discuss the terrible topic of his infertility yet again. ‘‘Please, Kelse,’’ he begged. ‘‘I can’t talk about this now.’’

  But she would not be stopped, would not back down. ‘‘I won’t stop trying, Jareshk,’’ she told him seriously, falling back on the use of the name she’d first known him by, something she often did when they were intimate. ‘‘I have to believe you’re able—you came so close already!’’

  He took both of her pale, freckled hands within his much darker ones. ‘‘We will always keep trying,’’ he promised her. He hadn’t forgotten the deep pain she’d expressed earlier in the day while working with Marco, her feelings about his cycles. Perhaps it had taken such deep bonding to bring the emotions out; no matter what, he had determined to cooperate and work to induce his cycles in whatever way he could. ‘‘For you, love, I would give you the universe. You know that.’’

  She broke into one of her loveliest, widest smiles, and he felt his heart turn over in his chest. To make this woman happy, well, it was worth any risk—and conquering any fear about his very core nature.

  ‘‘We can make it happen,’’ she continued. ‘‘You just have to keep faith.’’

  He smiled at her, but although he put on a brave face, inside his heart ached. What if he disappointed her? What if he were simply unable? It wasn’t a thought he could entertain. He would keep trying forever, until he was completely silver-headed and beyond his fertile season. Until then, until that outward sign of his maturity had overtaken him, there was always a possibility.

  Jared hiked the path toward Base Ten, preferring to walk rather than taking the indoor network of tunnels and elevators that would lead him there much more easily. He needed to breathe; he and Kelsey had made love again—gods, he was still filled with lust just thinking about her fair-skinned body atop his, so aggressive and eager to have him. Still, despite how sated she’d left him, he was haunted by their earlier conversation and the thought of her poring over love rites advisories. He would do whatever she asked of him if it meant giving her a baby—and his people an heir to the throne. But she had wanted to see his core self and he hadn’t shown her. What’s holding me back? he wondered, increasing his pace. She wants all of me—why do I hesitate?

  He shoved both hands into his jacket pockets, and quickened his pace. There’d been sightings of Antousian stealth fighters along the Canadian border earlier in the morning; he’d need to launch his own ready fighters if their enemies were doing more than a simple recon mission. His advisors could reach him by comm at any point, but still, he wanted to be at the base, ready to talk tactics.

  ‘‘You’re walking, I see,’’ came his cousin’s voice from the woods beside him. He jerked his head in her direction, startled by her sudden appearance.

  ‘‘Ah, cousin, I did not see you.’’

  ‘‘It’s not such a great idea, you hiking to the base without an escort, you know,’’ she said, joining him on the path. ‘‘I should chastise you, actually. We’ve talked about always bringing a guard with you.’’ She dropped her voice lower. ‘‘Or Marco, for that matter. Or Sabrina. Your Madjin have returned to you, my lord. It’s time you began to call upon them.’’

  ‘‘Marco was unwell this morning,’’ he told her, adjusting his jacket, ‘‘but you make a valid point, cousin.’’

  She inclined her head respectfully with a soft smile. It seemed she was no longer angry about his marriage; he was thankful because he relied on her too completely to be at odds with her for any length of time.

  ‘‘So what are you doing here on the trail?’’ he asked.

  Her expression grew troubled. ‘‘I needed some air.’’

  ‘‘Interesting,’’ he observed, ‘‘so did I. Perhaps we should walk together.’’

  She nodded formally, placing both hands behind her back. ‘‘Yes, cousin, I would like that very much.’’

  They began the descent down the mountainside, and at times Jared had to smile at their easy formality with one another. It was a lifelong habit between the two of them, to fall into the speech patterns that harkened back to their royal youth—so different from the way he spoke with Kelsey or Scott or even Anika, whom he was slowly forgiving for her deceit about being part of the Madjin circle.

  He made a mental note to summon Anika that evening, so that they might meet in private; he’d yet to speak to her alone since the revelations, preferring to keep a polite distance. But he hadn’t missed the troubled pain in her usually warm eyes. For years she had been one of his dearest friends; forgiving her for such long-term deception felt difficult, yet he understood that she had made her choices out of a desire to protect him.

  ‘‘Have you spoken with Anika today?’’ he inquired.

  Thea took the lead on the path. ‘‘Yes, sir. She and Anna are working on recon over at Warren. So far, nothing to report about Lieutenant Dillon.’’

  Thea paused at a turn in the path, one that gave a sudden sweeping view of the valley below. Sunlight pierced the clouds, creating a panorama of color and light. ‘‘Jared, I’m worried about Scott.’’

  When Thea addressed him by his first name he always knew their roles had shifted into something much more personal. ‘‘I am as well,’’ he admitted. ‘‘Extremely concerned and anxious. What does your intuition tell you?’’

  She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, not speaking at first. Her gaze flitted to the valley and her eyes narrowed—was she using her gift even now?

  ‘‘I see nothing. It’s odd, cousin. Just darkness and fog.’’

  The tempo of Jared’s heartbeat increased rapidly. ‘‘Could it mean death?’’ he asked in alarm.

  She shook her head. ‘‘No, I don’t think so. I think it means . . . that events are undetermined.’’

  ‘‘You never come up with that kind of reading.’’

  ‘‘Unless the gods don’t mean for me to know,’’ she answered matter-of-factly. ‘‘It’s a gift that comes from them, don’t forget. Sometimes there are too many choices that still hang in the balance, too many possibilities and directions for destiny to take us. I think Scott is at a crossroads right now.’’

  ‘‘I see.’’ Jared tried to ignore the hammering sound of fear that roared in his ears.

  ‘‘The Antousians have been flying back and forth across the Canadian border for several days, sir,’’ Thea informed him, changing her demeanor and tone once again. ‘‘What do you think it means?’’

  ‘‘They’re planning something. They’ve always been circumspect with crossing international boundaries—too much chance for unwanted attention.’’ Jared had a thought. ‘�
�I wonder if the Air Force knows about their activities. They might have drawn Dillon’s attention to it.’’

  ‘‘Perhaps the lieutenant might open a door for communication,’’ she reflected, just as his security advisor had pondered yesterday. ‘‘Do you think some sort of conversation between our side and the US government might be a viable possibility?’’

  ‘‘I wouldn’t have thought so before,’’ he said, ‘‘but we must see how the situation with Scott plays out.’’

  ‘‘Agreed.’’ They began to hike again, Thea taking the lead on a narrow, slippery section of trail, and they fell silent until once again they could hike side by side.

  ‘‘So, then,’’ she resumed, ‘‘tell me what else is on your mind besides your concern for Lieutenant Dillon.’’

  He stopped in his tracks. ‘‘Blasted!’’ He laughed. ‘‘It gets damned uncomfortable living among intuitives.’’

  She gave him a grudging, playful smile. ‘‘We keep you on your toes, sir, so that you won’t carry the weight of this entire rebellion on your own.’’

  He nodded, studying his boots. ‘‘This isn’t about the rebellion,’’ he admitted quietly. Thinking of Kelsey’s hope that maybe Thea would have some advice for him, he added, ‘‘I wish it were. Hell, it might be easier that way.’’

  ‘‘It’s about the queen, isn’t it?’’

  He glanced up, surprised to hear Thea refer to her by her title. He gave an abrupt, awkward nod.

  ‘‘Perhaps I can help,’’ she encouraged, reaching to touch his arm, and he thought he might weep in sheer relief at her offer.

  ‘‘Yes,’’ he breathed. ‘‘That . . . would be much appreciated, dear cousin. I fear I need advice on’’—he paused, sucking in an emboldening breath—‘‘the business of mating.’’

  ‘‘Sex?’’ she blurted with a shocked expression. ‘‘You’re far more experienced than I, cousin!’’

  ‘‘Not sex, no,’’ he rushed to amend, and coughed into his hand, blushing painfully. He’d made it sound like he needed help with the act itself—and that’s clearly how she’d interpreted his request. With another cough, and staring at the snowy ground between them, he elaborated, ‘‘I mean, advice on mating cycles. If I’m ever to produce an heir, I require some very generous advice on the matter of—well, uh, mating heat.’’

  ‘‘Now that,’’ she answered with a confident nod, ‘‘I might be able to help you with!’’

  Hope stirred groggily, feeling as if her entire body had been submersed in rubber glue. Even her eyelashes stuck together as she struggled to open her eyes. Finally, she blinked back sleep, staring up into a bright corona of light. A medical lab, that’s where they’d taken her.

  ‘‘You’re awake.’’ It was the colonel’s voice, from somewhere beside her. With great effort, she rotated her head sideways. He sat beside her bed, and though his form was little more than a blurry apparition, she did think he seemed sorry.

  ‘‘Why’d you knock me out?’’ she asked, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as she worked to talk. ‘‘Water?’’ she added hopefully, and immediately the colonel pressed a cup with a straw into her hands.

  ‘‘You have our deepest apologies, Ms. Harper. Our very deepest apologies.’’

  ‘‘It was a mistake,’’ she agreed flatly.

  ‘‘Of course it was—we overlooked the issue of your eyes . . .’’

  ‘‘It’s called retinopathy,’’ she volunteered angrily. ‘‘It’s an eye disease that affects my retinal patterns—I told your security team about this going in! That a retinal scan was unreliable because of my diabetic condition.’’

  ‘‘But the pattern changed from the time you entered the holding facility and the time you prepared to exit.’’

  ‘‘Because I was nervous. My blood pressure probably went up, and that affected the vessels in my eyes.’’

  ‘‘Again, Ms. Harper, our most sincere apologies. It won’t happen again.’’

  ‘‘Why’d you think I wasn’t myself—I mean, how could that be, anyway?’’

  She was met by silence. Need-to-know basis, here we go again, she thought. But for once, that kind of pissed her off, them having injected her with sedative and all. ‘‘Look’’—she worked to sit up in bed—‘‘we both know that Refarians don’t live on Earth. Okay? I’m not stupid; I went to William and Mary, I work for the FBI, and I’m just not an idiot. So, Colonel, tell me why you’d think a girl who looks exactly like me could somehow not be me?’’

  Again, nothing but silence. She sighed. ‘‘I’m making headway with this guy. If you’d just need me to know a bit more, I could probably get somewhere.’’

  ‘‘Some of his kind are capable of changing form. Into anything. We know that about them.’’

  It was exactly what she’d surmised earlier, before they sedated her, but for some reason she’d still wanted the colonel to admit it. ‘‘So you thought I wasn’t Hope Harper.’’

  ‘‘Our mandate is to DNA-test anyone who comes in or out of that room. Period.’’

  Hope sipped from the straw, thinking. The interrogation team owed her now, so this just might be her chance for a breakthrough with the alien. She was about to voice her request, when a strange thought intruded upon her psyche: Scott Dillon meant something to her. It was as if she’d been dreaming about him, something she couldn’t quite recall, but she suddenly felt a strong attachment to the man. The same sort of feelings that had been niggling at her all day during the questioning: The overpowering sense that she’d known him before. That he could be trusted.

  And that he needed her help, desperately.

  ‘‘Colonel, before our problem’’—she indicated the infirmary bed with a wave of her hand, an intentional reminder of his miscalculated maneuver—‘‘you and I were discussing the possibility that I might question Dillon on my own. I’d basically be rehashing some of your earlier questions, but doing it in my own way.’’

  ‘‘Yes, I recall that, Ms. Harper.’’

  ‘‘Well, have you thought about it any further? Because I think I could gain some ground with him.’’

  ‘‘Right now, I think we’re open to anything that might work.’’

  She swung her feet over the side of the bed—she was still in her clothes from earlier—and dropped them to the floor. This would make an excellent opportunity to prove to headquarters that her increasing eyesight problems hadn’t slowed her down any. ‘‘Good. I’m ready, sir.’’

  ‘‘But you’re barely awake—’’

  She cut him off, smoothing a hand over her disheveled hair. ‘‘I am always ready to roll, Colonel. Just give me a chance.’’

  ‘‘So, um, this matter of cycling,’’ Jared began tentatively. ‘‘I find it eludes me for some reason.’’ He and Thea were seated together on a log along the path; their uniforms were waterproof, so the light dusting of snow that covered the thick branch hardly mattered.

  ‘‘Hmm, that’s surprising—I can’t seem to help myself!’’ Thea laughed. ‘‘Rather ironic, don’t you think? I have no mate, but cycle like mad—whereas you’ve taken a wife, and can’t seem to figure it out.’’

  He growled slightly in dismay, unable to contain his sheer embarrassment at the discussion topic. Thea laughed softly. ‘‘Cousin, don’t look so mortified. It’s natural. It doesn’t get more natural for the two of us.’’

  ‘‘Then why is it such a problem for me?’’ he cried in despair, burying his face in his hands. ‘‘I-I shouldn’t need this talk or coaching. It should be as easy as my Change!’’

  ‘‘You mentioned something the other day,’’ she answered, softly touching his shoulder. ‘‘About how you met Kelsey the summer of your awakening—and then she was taken from you.’’

  ‘‘The elders,’’ he despaired. ‘‘They were behind the separation. I wanted to come back for her, but . . . they wiped the memories. I never knew, never remembered until I found her again.’’

  ‘‘Exactly, Jared, exactly!’�
�� Thea said, clapping her hands.

  ‘‘You find that significant?’’

  ‘‘You were beginning your first cycle—that’s what our awakening means. I remember my own awakening was almost unbearable, and I was kept entirely in seclusion. If I’d found someone I cared about, well . . . I can only imagine the intensity of it.’’

  ‘‘I wanted her desperately—I don’t remember that much about our time together, just shadows and half thoughts—but I know how much I wanted her. We were barely more than children, but it was intense and strong.’’

  ‘‘So what I believe, Jared, is that you stifled those feelings. Fought them. Battled them away out of desperation after you left Earth.’’ She paused significantly, reaching a hand to touch his cheek. ‘‘And you’ve never allowed them since.’’

  He gasped, staring at her. It was so incredibly obvious, yet it had never even crossed his mind in the past weeks. ‘‘I-I almost,’’ he stammered, ‘‘almost managed it . . . a few nights ago. Our marriage night, but then . . .’’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘‘It stopped?’’

  He nodded, rubbing his throat.

  Beside him, he felt a quiver of energy; Thea watched him. ‘‘Jared, it’s not that hard.’’ she laughed gently. ‘‘Well, it is that hard, at least for the male of our kind. But getting there shouldn’t be. Not for a strapping warrior like you.’’

  He growled at her, saying nothing more, and never looking in her direction. ‘‘Cousin!’’ she exclaimed, clasping his arm. ‘‘You love her. She loves you. From all the evidence that I can see, you two have a stunning sex life.’’