Parallel Heat

by Deidre Knight

  ‘‘Baby, baby,’’ he murmured, pushing her onto her back. She felt a rock lodge beneath her leg; she didn’t care. With both hands she clutched at him, reached, tried to draw him closer against her body. Their lips met, his mouth crushing hers hard as he reached to unbuckle her belt, then her uniform slacks. She knew she smelled like smoke and battle grime, but that hardly mattered; all she wanted was Marco inside of her. Now. Forget the waiting, the endless days of torturous waiting.

  Tilting her pelvis upward, she reached for him, aligning her hips against his. Against her thigh, the prominent bulge of his erection nudged her as together they began to thrust, his hand half inside her pants, she pulling at his hair.

  Pressing her eyes shut she ignored the morning sunlight, dappling through the trees—and she ignored the very real possibility that a patrol might discover them. There would be no stopping now, no waiting for the ideal moment for mating. They’d done a damnable amount of waiting, and she didn’t want any more of it.

  He could be gone by afternoon. They could both be dead. ‘‘I won’t die without having you,’’ she panted in his ear. ‘‘I won’t wait another day for this.’’

  Shoving her pants further down her hips, his large hands cupped the bare skin of her thighs. ‘‘I won’t wait,’’ he groaned against her shoulder. ‘‘Look at me, I’m shaking all over for you.’’ His palms slid down her legs, clutching at her while she struggled with unfastening his jeans. He reached between them and unsnapped his pants, then tugged on the zipper, cursing under his breath in low Refarian until they finally came open.

  ‘‘Good.’’ She panted, sliding her palms around his hips, feeling bare skin. Like most Refarian males, he wore no underwear at all. The feel of his satiny warm flesh dusted with bristly hairs caused a jolt of desire to crest inside of her.

  Their hands were everywhere, exploring, ripping apart, opening. His hair, so much longer now, was silky thick between her fingers. ‘‘Marco,’’ she cried, tugging his head down for another kiss. ‘‘I can’t wait. Please don’t make me.’’

  He arched his back, rising off of her onto all fours, and shoved his pants all the way to his ankles, then slid atop her, levering his hips together with hers. He pressed his erection between her thighs, pushing at her opening; she was wet and hot and ready for him. She wanted him with all her heart and soul, but nothing had prepared her for the suddenness of such intimate proximity. Pushing against her opening, she realized that Marco would not be stopped, nor did she want him to be. Nothing could stop her anyway.

  ‘‘I thought I’d never be with you again,’’ she whimpered, feeling tears streak down her face. ‘‘Amazing, you’re amazing. Nothing will ever separate us. We’re one.’’

  But then he did stop, growing utterly still against her. Lifting his head, he stared into her eyes, his own dark ones wide with panic.

  ‘‘No, Marco, keep going,’’ she pleaded, unsure what had caused his hesitation. She pushed her hips upward, working to take him inside of her, just a bit, but he braced his hands by her shoulders and held back, shaking his head adamantly.

  With a quick curse, he growled, raising his hips and slipping off of her. ‘‘All wrong,’’ he whispered. ‘‘Baby, this—can’t happen. Not now.’’

  She dug her fingers into both of his shoulders, urging him back down onto her. ‘‘Don’t you dare pull away now!’’ Too many times before now he had come near, only to shove her to the far side of his emotional universe. ‘‘I won’t let you, not this time,’’ she said fiercely, holding him hard and close. The tears that had already been in her eyes turned to sobbing, her chest heaving. ‘‘Now is the time, not later, not someday. Now, Marco!’’

  He palmed her hair, stroking it back from her eyes; his expression filled with raw anguish. ‘‘I have to talk to you first, baby,’’ he explained. ‘‘Please.’’

  And then they lay together, he still and drawing in huffing, urgent breaths, she sobbing softly. ‘‘Talk to me, then.’’ She forced the words past her tightened throat. ‘‘Whatever it is, just say it.’’

  ‘‘Not like this,’’ he whispered, cupping her beneath the chin. ‘‘We can’t breathe, neither one of us.’’ He began to ease off of her, straddling her. ‘‘Give me a minute.’’

  She slapped his chest furiously. ‘‘This is it, McKinley. You’ve done this to me for the last time.’’

  He shook his head, sliding off of her and sitting beside her on the cool ground. He drew his knees to his chest and buried his face in his hands. ‘‘Don’t hate me—not yet, baby. Please, just hear me out.’’

  With a jerk, she pulled her pants back up to her waist and began frantically fastening zippers and buttons. She’d be damned if this man would leave her here, not with her half-nude.

  But she noticed he wasn’t going anywhere; that fact had to account for her anger suddenly cooling a bit. ‘‘Go on,’’ she told him tightly. ‘‘I’m listening.’’

  Dropping his hands away from his face, he met her hard gaze. His hair shot in every possible direction, disheveled by her own hands. ‘‘Nothing will ever separate us again,’’ he began softly. ‘‘You’re totally right, sweet Thea.’’

  ‘‘So what’s wrong with that?’’

  ‘‘Think about it—think deeply. Everything that I am, you will become. Not by half measures or near-mating. You will be me and I will be you. Me. You’ll have it all. Including this cursed thing that lives inside of me—my empathy.’’

  ‘‘I already have your gift!’’ She gave the ground a stomp.

  ‘‘It hasn’t even manifested yet. You have no idea how strong it will become,’’ he warned her.

  ‘‘I don’t care, Marco! I’m ready to be with you, fully, completely. Nothing will ever keep me from you again.’’

  ‘‘Do you have any idea what those words do to me?’’ He laughed huskily, thinking what this bonding would mean to him; how it would change his internal landscape. More than that, of how profoundly he loved the woman beside him. ‘‘I have never wanted anything more than this, not in all my days.’’

  She opened her arms to him, reaching, and he nuzzled her, nipping at her throat with a quiet growl of arousal. ‘‘But it’s not just the empathy,’’ he cautioned her. ‘‘It’s the Madjin. It’s the Circle.’’

  ‘‘Sabrina told me that all that business about you not being able to mate is nonsense! She told me she had a husband and a son—that you can mate too.’’

  ‘‘That’s not it—it’s that you’ll become one with the Circle. Did she tell you that?’’

  Thea shook her head. ‘‘No, she didn’t.’’

  ‘‘Did you tell her about us?’’ he pressed, wondering what Sabrina would say about the reality of his taking a lifemate. Of his marrying a woman of a class far above his own servant status.

  ‘‘I didn’t, not exactly.’’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘‘I indicated we had feelings for each other, but . . . I didn’t get very specific.’’

  ‘‘I have to ask her permission before we take this step—there’s so much at stake. The curse inside me; your new link to the Madjin. She’s my unit leader and I’ve got to talk to her first.’’

  She groaned and fell back onto the leaves, fastening her belt. ‘‘Waiting. Always waiting. First one thing, then another. Damn it, Marco!’’ she shouted. ‘‘I can’t keep doing this.’’

  He sprang atop her, suspending himself over her by bracing his hands on both sides of her head. Still, their hips pushed together, their bodies felt as one. Panting heavily against her cheek, he breathed words of intent: ‘‘This won’t take long. I swear it. I’ll leave you now and go to talk to her. That’s all the time I need.’’

  She braced his face within her hands, cool against his fevered cheeks. ‘‘And then?’’

  ‘‘And then we will go wherever you want and mate. Forever. No stopping or holding back—’’

  ‘‘No more fears?’’

  He shook his head, pressing his lips against hers. ‘‘Ne
ver.’’

  Their kiss deepened and once again they began to rock their hips together in a titillating gyration. She gripped him from behind, caressing and urging him onward as if he were a wild stud running for the finish line.

  Pulling his mouth from hers, he trailed his tongue across her cheek, tasting the salty sweetness of her. With a dragging inhalation, he swilled her scent into his lungs, feeling his hard-on grow even harder.

  She slipped her hands lower down between his legs, slowly caressing the sensitive place behind his erection. He buried his face in her hair, stifling his intense, yelping growl. She made him wild; she brought out the most primal side of his nature and he burned with it whenever he fell into her arms this way. His entire body blazed with her natural heat and fire.

  ‘‘Help me, baby,’’ he begged of her, unable to pull away. ‘‘We c-can’t,’’ he stammered. Somehow, in her arms, his facility with speech always faded a bit. In a way, he grew as primal as he knew her to be.

  ‘‘I don’t want to help you.’’ She laughed huskily in his ear. ‘‘You know what I’m after.’’

  ‘‘Please. Please, Thea. Please.’’ He groaned his need as her hand tugged between his legs, tight against him where his thighs met. He arched, throwing his head back with an unsuppressed bellow of longing. ‘‘Got . . . to stop.’’

  She stroked him harder.

  ‘‘You are a vixen,’’ he rasped in her ear.

  She gave a coquettish laugh. ‘‘But I’m your vixen.’’ And with that, at last, she shoved him off of her. ‘‘Now go!’’ she said in obvious frustration. ‘‘Just go! And have your big talk with Sabrina.’’

  He studied her closely. ‘‘And then? Tonight?’’ The words rushed out in a breathless exhalation of need. Only this time, she was the one to put the brakes on.

  ‘‘No, not until we’re married,’’ she told him, her eyes dancing with excitement. ‘‘Then we will mate—after. Not before.’’

  He couldn’t help giving her a sideways, grudging smile. ‘‘Payback, huh?’’

  She leaned forward, kissing him softly on the mouth. ‘‘It’s just more romantic that way. We’ll have a royal wedding!’’

  ‘‘How can I argue with that?’’ he laughed, feeling nervousness flutter in the pit of his stomach. A royal wedding where the groom had spent a lifetime in servitude. What would the elders say to that? Good thing his wife to be didn’t seem to care.

  ‘‘I plan to mate with Thea.’’ Marco stood before the leader of his circle, the woman he had always thought of as his true mother. ‘‘I want to marry her, too. Tomorrow. I want to seal our marriage before the Circle—before everyone. I know you won’t approve, I’ve already been over it hundreds of times in my head—’’

  ‘‘You can’t mate with her, Marco.’’ Sabrina blinked rapidly, staring at him—almost as if gazing right through him—and then her expression softened. ‘‘I know you love her—’’

  He took a step closer toward his adopted mother. ‘‘You can’t begin to know how deep it is.’’

  She smiled faintly. ‘‘And I know that you’re near-mates—that you feel a deep, intense connection with her.’’

  ‘‘Then why do you object?’’

  ‘‘Because you’re Madjin, and she is one of your protected. You know the rules—and you remember your vows. Now that security has normalized, your bond with her will have to be broken.’’

  He shook his head adamantly, pacing the room as if on a tight chain. ‘‘No, it won’t. That won’t ever happen.’’

  Behind him he sensed Sabrina bristle. ‘‘You took vows, Marco.’’

  ‘‘Vows you have always told me didn’t include staying celibate or without a mate. I made that vow to myself!’’

  ‘‘And what about your empathy?’’ she reminded him gently. ‘‘Think of Thea—of her safety and well-being.’’

  ‘‘So far, with our near-bond, she’s fine. She hasn’t even received my abilities.’’

  ‘‘It won’t happen until you’re fully mated, Marco. You know this; you’ve always known it.’’

  ‘‘I love her, Sabrina! I love her. I’ve spent my life in solitude—why would you try to stop me?’’

  She grasped him by the shoulder. ‘‘Because you are dangerous to her!’’

  Marco rubbed his jaw as if she’d just slapped him hard across the face. ‘‘I see. So now we have the truth: This is what you truly think of me.’’

  ‘‘Marco, no.’’ Sabrina’s eyes slid shut. ‘‘What I mean is, she’s from the house of D’Ashani, a royal, and you are sworn to all the royals, not just Jared. That’s the vow I’m reminding you about. Not a vow of chastity or otherwise. First and foremost, a Madjin warrior places the well-being of his protected above any personal desires.’’

  Marco implored his Circle leader with his eyes. ‘‘What better way for me to protect her than keeping her at my side? Always? We’re living in different times. New times,’’ he argued, unwilling to back down.

  She set her jaw, then slowly looked at him again. ‘‘You won’t let me stop you.’’

  ‘‘No one could.’’ He broke into a joyous, warm smile, feeling the tide turn between them.

  Sabrina put her back to him, both hands on her hips; she seemed to wrestle with a great weight. Perhaps her decision to bless the union, or perhaps simply choosing what would be her next tack in trying to sway him.

  At last she pivoted toward him. ‘‘Well then, there’s something you must know. Information you must have before taking the final step of mating with her completely.

  “Show me your Madjin’s seal—would you please?’’ she directed, using her unit leader’s voice. He’d long ago determined that she had two voices when talking to him: One was the tone of a mother, the other that of unit commander. She was all leader right now, leaving no room for him to deny her.

  ‘‘All right.’’ He rolled up his flannel shirt sleeve, revealing his naturally olive-gold skin.

  Lifting his other hand, he allowed a shiny beam of light to flow from it onto his exposed right wrist. Rarely did he reveal his Madjin’s brand, and yet he always remained aware of its presence, prickling there somehow just beneath his skin—even as he was always aware of his powerful vows. R’thasme siet falne, he’d sworn before the council: Dying to self to serve those more worthy.

  The holographic marking spun into view, undulating powerfully in the air between them. ‘‘Ah, there it is,’’ she said, her voice filled with wonder as it always did when one of her Madjin revealed their brand. They were an ancient line, and the mark had been passed from Madjin to Madjin for almost a thousand years. ‘‘It still amazes me,’’ she observed.

  Marco bowed his head reverentially. ‘‘I’m honored to bear the king’s brand.’’

  She nodded in thoughtful agreement, then asked, ‘‘Haven’t you ever wondered why you were branded on your right wrist instead of your left, like the rest of us?’’

  Marco thought a moment; no, he’d never questioned the council’s choice for his branding. ‘‘I assumed it was because I’m left-handed,’’ he replied with a shrug. ‘‘Part of the Madjin sealing symbolism, or because I’m the primary protector to the king.’’ Again, he searched within his mind, a small leaden feeling of dread beginning inside his chest. ‘‘I never really thought about it, to be honest.’’

  She stepped toward him, reaching for his right hand. She took hold of it, gently exposing the underside of his wrist; she pressed her thumb and forefinger into the beating point of his pulse. ‘‘Right here.’’ She smiled appreciatively. ‘‘The mark is right here.’’

  Marco stared at her, confused. ‘‘What mark?’’

  ‘‘The mark of the D’Aravni.’’

  ‘‘What are you talking about, Sabrina?’’ he blurted with an awkward laugh. ‘‘I don’t have another mark.’’

  ‘‘I know you’ve been intimate with Thea—maybe you haven’t made love yet, but you’ve touched her,’’ she said. ‘‘Haven’t you felt the
fire? Don’t tell me that you haven’t, it would be impossible.’’

  His thoughts catapulted to the scorching compulsion he’d felt every time he was near her, the overbearing urge to touch her core self. The way he blazed inside—the way Thea seemed to brush him with her fiery nature. And he thought of how hungry he’d been for her D’Ashanian self in his room—how he’d had to expose himself to her, then stroke himself. He’d been compelled to mate with her beyond any urge he’d ever imagined just from seeing her naked, true form.

  ‘‘You have felt it.’’ She could see everything on his face.

  ‘‘Don’t . . .’’ he managed to choke, backing away from her.

  ‘‘Illuminate it, Marco. See for yourself; even now you feel the emblem’s presence, don’t you?’’

  She was right, of course. The underside of his wrist had begun to burn and even itch slightly, as if by the very act of her telling him about the mark, some kind of chemical reaction had occurred in his body. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his thoughts. Shaking, he raised his left hand and allowed a silvery beam of light to spill onto his wrist, in the exact same manner he always illuminated his Madjin’s seal. In reaction, a swelling, undulating sphere of energy materialized in the air between them, causing a quiet shudder throughout his whole body. It was Jared’s mark, the emblem of the D’Aravni.

  ‘‘Wh-why is this here?’’ he stammered, staring at the glowing mark in shock. It appeared identical to the one his king and queen bore.

  The glowing light illuminated Sabrina’s face with an eerie glow. ‘‘Your mother was a young protector, brought to the palace to train with the Madjin as a child. She was never strong, not like she should have been—because she was an empath, just like you, Marco. All your gifts of intuition and empathy come from her.’’

  ‘‘I know all that,’’ he gritted. ‘‘Tell me why this mark is here on my wrist!’’

  Sabrina nodded in acknowledgment. ‘‘But what I’ve never told you is that your mother became the king’s mistress. They were in love, deeply, and had a dreadful affair that broke everyone’s hearts,’’ she explained. ‘‘When the king felt he had to end the relationship, she lost control of her empathy and went into madness. All her life she’d struggled to keep her sanity, but losing him . . .’’ Her voice trailed off, her eyes becoming filled with melancholy emotion. ‘‘Well, after that, we learned she was carrying the king’s child. So we nursed her through the pregnancy, and when you were born, I cared for you. Your mother died three months after you were born.’’