Perhaps not, but he was back to studying her. Searching her face. For what? Despite his own surprise at discovering the Rakanasmara between them, had he guessed her secret, hidden even from herself, when he’d looked into her green eyes?
She grasped his outstretched arm. Immediately several strands of copper hair wound themselves around both their arms, binding them together. She ignored the conspicuous symbolism. She had no intention of backing down. In spite of her years of denial, when confronted with evidence, the truth was too important to back away from now.
“Too bad, because that’s what you’ve got. Judan, don’t you realize what this means?”
He threaded his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp.
“Yes,” he said, quietly. “I, as you put it, collected one orphan when his parents were killed. Now I’ve found a second one who’s discovered, perhaps not her parentage, but a piece of her heritage. Isn’t that right, Myrina?
There it was, the bottom line spelled out. A piece of her heritage.
Myrina had told herself she could handle it, but the revelation came tangled with an instantaneously serious relationship. She slumped against the desk, suddenly weary. She’d crammed so many facts about the rescue mission inside her brain she hardly had room to cope with the implications of the Rakanasmara to her own life. Or her feelings about the discovery.
“Myrina?” He bent and kissed her forehead.
“I’ll need to run a DNA scan to confirm,” she said, falling back on what she knew best. Her work.
He chuckled. “Rakanasmara has come and yet now you want to be the scientist. I’m surprised you never wondered before this and…”
“What? I was literally found on the steps of an orphanage when I was about two years old, Judan. Whoever left me didn’t want me anymore, so early on I decided I didn’t want to know about them either. Eventually it became a moot point.”
“I have struggled with this truth, Myrina.” Although his words were gentle his stormy features made her wonder if he didn’t want to throttle her unknown ancestor. “I cannot believe a Dakokatan would abandon a child. That is not our way.”
“Well, somebody did and I was raised in a Confederacy orphanage. Still, I don’t see any other explanation for my having the genetic marker for Rakanasmara.”
“Then you accept that this is what is between us?” His voice dropped to an intimate register.
Since her left arm was still pinned by his hair, she reached for the pendant hanging around her neck with her other hand. Cradling it in her palm she met his intense gaze.
“I take it that this necklace is part of one of those Dakokatan rituals you mentioned. Part of your, ah, wooing, of me.”
He nodded. “I am honored that you chose to wear it today.”
His lips brushed hers and he pulled her within the security of his embrace. She welcomed the steadiness of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body. She had, she realized, already accepted Judan Ringa into her life with a speed she never would have thought possible. And yet…
“Judan.”
“Yes, Myrina?”
“You’re right. Although I probably have Dakokatan genes, I don’t know Dakokatan customs, only the Confederacy ones I grew up with.”
“That’s fine, Myrina,” he said, soothing her back with his free hand. “We’ll manage.”
She sighed and her gaze flicked to the picture frame sitting on his desk.
“Is that what you do with Zane, manage? Fit him in when you have time in your busy schedule. If that’s the case, I guarantee he knows he comes in second.”
His hand stilled on her back. She even sensed a slight hesitation in his next breath.
“I spend as much time with him as I can when I’m home,” he said. “It isn’t enough. For either of us.”
She lifted her head and stepped back against the desk. He released her, reluctantly, which is more than she could say about his hair, which kept a firm grip on their arms. She didn’t dispute the connection, only the strength of it, because she knew if she lifted her arm, his hair would slide away.
“I grew up with not enough,” she said, reaching out with her free hand to smooth the wrinkles she’d made in his shirt. “I won’t settle for that again.”
“What do you mean? I want you, Myrina deCarte, and I am yours for the rest of our lives together. What more is there?”
She suspected that what he wanted and what she needed were two very different things. “What about love, Judan? Or didn’t you read up on that when you discovered the art of wooing in the TLC archives?”
To her surprise he nodded. “Yes, I came across the word.”
“And?”
“Rakanasmara binds us together in a way that can never happen again. I understand what that means. It means you are my life partner, Myrina. I do not understand the word ‘love’.”
His words were a far cry from a declaration. But at least he’d acknowledged the concept.
Whoa, girl. Is that what you expected? A declaration? You need to pull back real fast before you get burned. Before you lose your heart.
She didn’t want to concede it was way too late for that.
“I’ve been attracted to other men before, Judan,” she said. Her gaze was steady though she couldn’t say the same for her heart. The erratic thumps sounded like a death knell to her dreams.
“The Rakanasmara may be a life force to you, but without love it really is just an affair to me. A lot of hormones and pheromones kicking up a storm. The only reason this time is different for me is that in the process I’ve potentially found a hidden piece of my past.”
Chapter Eleven
A couple of hours later Myrina was no closer to a solution for saving the Outposters. Heck, she hadn’t even seen the inside of the lab since she’d left in search of a few not so simple answers. Basically she’d played hooky with the lives of seventy-seven people. She should be checking DNA. Theirs. Hers.
Way back when she’d first flirted with genetics, she’d entertained the idea of testing herself. In the end she hadn’t because what could a double helix tell her that she didn’t already know? She’d survived childhood, was healthy and had good job prospects. Oh yes, and she was alone in the world. Nothing new there.
Praying the coast was clear so she wouldn’t encounter any other crew members, she’d retreated to the observation deck after leaving Judan’s office. She’d been here ever since staring at the stars. Unlike her imaginary childhood adventures, this time she was old enough to realize there were no escape routes. For one thing, experience had taught her she couldn’t trust a one of them. She really and truly was stuck on this ship. With a man who didn’t understand love despite a little boy’s face that proclaimed the emotion loud and clear.
She didn’t dare dwell on her own wishes, maybes, or might-haves. She’d lost most of those eight years ago and the loss of one Dakokatan Warlord wasn’t going to change that. She’d finish her job and then go home a lot wiser about herself and with the memory of an awesome fling.
Goose bumps marched up her arm the minute the elevator doors swished open. Crap. At least this time her personal alarm system had issued a warning. She didn’t turn around, giving herself time to school her emotions, which had remained an uncharacteristically jumbled mess since her discussion with Judan.
* * * * *
Thanks to a suggestion from Chiara, Judan finally found Myrina sitting on the floor of the observation deck staring out into space. Since the Ketiga Bulan was recycling for another combined space-time jump and hyperslide, the shutters protecting the hull had retracted, exposing the dome of the ship to infinite space.
Myrina pretended to ignore his arrival, but he knew otherwise. Rakanasmara could not so easily be dismissed.
He had reluctantly let her go after their confrontation in his office. His selfishness had caused her pain and while he’d wanted nothing more than to comfort her, he was no longer sure he had the right. Besides, she’d needed time alone to deal w
ith the revelations Rakanasmara had brought to her life. He hadn’t fully understood the implications until then. Because his own Dakokatan heritage was such an integral part of himself, he couldn’t imagine a life without a basic knowledge of one’s ancestors. And yet, until this afternoon, that was exactly how Myrina had lived. Curious about the world around her, while denying the secrets carried within her own body.
Myrina deCarte was a strong woman. She was used to being alone. And, as she’d told him quite vehemently, looking after herself. But, while he didn’t doubt the truth of her words, he refused to believe she preferred it that way. Any person with a scientific mind like Myrina’s, who believed in an incomprehensible concept called “love”, was searching for a way not to be alone.
Yet, he’d let her go. He hadn’t argued with her. Or pointed out the irony of her rejecting the very connection she’d obviously dreamed of finding. Nor had he defended himself against her charge.
It was true. He did not understand the word “love”. And he would not pretend and tell her words—even words he knew she longed to hear—without meaning them. Time and time again, he’d told her he wanted her. If she chose not to hear those words for what they meant, he would keep repeating them until she did. She may have demoted the connection between them to the level of human “lust”, another word he’d discovered in the TLC archives—but that simply proved she had not done her research. She did not understand Rakanasmara.
Rakanasmara. The need to be with her. The near constant ache to touch her. And he knew Myrina was experiencing an answering need. It could be no other way once Rakanasmara was initiated. But these and other sensations were no mere symptoms of “lust”, which reminded him of the tail of a burning comet. An uncontrollable emotion that appeared swift and fierce, burned brightly and was gone just as quickly.
Not Rakanasmara. From the onset of Rakanasmara their bodies had literally responded to each other. They would continue to adapt and change physically until the final joining created an inseparable bond between them, broken only through death. Hence the term “life partner”.
Myrina scrambled to her feet and turned to face him. “Did you try to find me in the lab?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said and stood waiting while she walked towards him.
He hadn’t allowed his guilt to keep him away for long. Since meeting Myrina he’d come to understand there was something to this wooing business after all. He truly had spoken in arrogance all those months ago when he’d assured Zane he would find someone who wanted them both. He wouldn’t be surprised if the Third Moon had heard that statement along with his prayer and deliberately challenged him by sending him to Myrina.
Challenge indeed. At the moment Myrina didn’t seem to want him, though she had been drawn to the boy.
He’d experienced an odd sense of joy when he’d found her with Zane’s picture. That she should be curious about the boy when she didn’t know how Zane had come to be in his life astounded him. Was it arrogance to believe this proved how right the Rakanasmara was between them? Her empathy for a fellow orphan was transparent, which was why he’d treaded carefully.
She wouldn’t meet his eyes when she reached him. Instead she stared at his shirt. Then her hand closed the short distance between them to settle over his heart. Or, more accurately, within the region of his twin scars. His most visible imperfection. A reminder that great rewards often came hand in hand with failure.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not very proud of myself right now.”
“Myrina.”
She shook her head, silencing him. “I’ve never, ever neglected a job before, Judan. But then,” she added with a weak smile, “I’ve never faced a distraction quite as powerful as my past. As you. I need to concentrate on the Outposters. I can’t do this…” Her voice trailed off.
The tendrils of heat from her light touch that had warmed his body now cooled. He was not a distraction. Rakanasmara was not a distraction. The proof of her heritage encoded inside her was not a distraction. And, in spite of the desperate situation on Hitani, he would not let her dismiss what was happening between them so easily. Rakanasmara did the choosing.
“I, too, am sorry, Myrina,” he whispered.
“No, Judan…” She started to pull away, but he caught her hand in his.
Regardless of her present opinions, he would not allow her to deny him the right to start fresh by making amends. “I am sorry. I didn’t tell you about Rakanasmara because I thought it might be easier to introduce you to my customs through using yours. But, while I enjoyed wooing you, it was selfish of me to keep the knowledge of your heritage a secret.”
A flash of disappointment crossed her face before disappearing behind a brief nod of acceptance. His heart thudded in satisfaction and he released the breath he’d been holding. Enjoyed. He’d used the past tense deliberately to gauge her reaction. She hadn’t been pleased. Despite her earlier words, she did want him. And he was going to “win” her. On his own merit, without empty words of “love” or the help of a small boy. That is why he’d answered her questions about Zane with basic facts, truths with nothing of his own wishes behind them.
Now that Rakanasmara had come, he could claim Zane for his own. He also guessed that if he told Myrina this, she would probably accept the partnership between them for the sake of the boy. And while he’d once thought that was enough, he now realized it would be an empty victory. He could not do that to Zane or Myrina. Or himself. They all deserved better.
He gathered her in his embrace. She melted against him, burrowing her face against his chest with a tiny sigh. Her hair tickled his chest through the thin layer of his shirt, enticing his skin to riot. His hands itched to dip below the obstruction of her shirt and touch her skin. Instead he contented himself with rubbing her back, with the feel of her slender weight against him and her scent teasing his nostrils.
“I’ll take you back to the lab so you can get back to work.”
“Okay.” The single word was little more than a puff of air.
Neither of them moved.
Then slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her head. But instead of stepping away from him, she stood and stared in rapt fascination at her arms, which were settled along his own.
“Your hair,” she murmured. Twisting her right hand, she fingered a few strands. “It seems to like me, a lot.”
Once again his locks had wrapped themselves around their arms, binding them together.
“Yes,” he said.
“And it’s the oddest thing. Every time I look at it, I see a different color, as if your hair was streaked.”
“It’s part of Rakanasmara.”
“What?”
How did he explain without scaring her off? He shrugged. “As Rakanasmara grows stronger, hair color changes.”
“Hum.” She sounded distracted. Deep in thought. “And the liking part?”
Judan found it difficult to maintain such a casual level of conversation when all he wanted to do was kiss her, take her back to his room and… He shrugged. “Yes, it likes you a lot. Hair is a sexually attractive feature among Dakokatans, which is why I hid it under a wig the first time you saw me.”
“Yet the rest of the crew don’t wear wigs. Only Chiara.”
“They know about the Rakanasmara, Myrina, and so they accept you. Amongst ourselves, Dakokatans leave our hair on display and simply tie it back. Chiara doesn’t mean to be rude, she is just very conservative. Once Rakanasmara starts the attraction is enhanced, so I released my hair from its bindings. That’s one reason Dakokatans wear long hair.”
Myrina looked up at him then, a little pucker forming in the middle of her brow. “My hair is short.”
“Yes,” he whispered and bent to kiss away the concern. “Don’t worry, I find it very, ah, attractive. It means I can do this.” He slid his hands up her back and neck and into the soft curls of her hair, spreading his fingers and running them with gentle caresses along her scalp.
She arched closer to h
im and her eyes wide with desire. A wave of pleasurable satisfaction hit him, hard.
“You see,” he whispered, intent on persuading her of what was happening between them. “In every way you respond as a Dakokatan would. The final mating will be soon.”
She shuddered at the promise in his words, even though nothing was settled between them.
“No fair,” she said.
Her own hands traced a path up to his broad shoulders. Her fingers spread through his hair and he bit back a groan, wondering how much longer he could last without the final mating. Then the fingers stopped moving. He refocused his gaze and saw she was frowning again.
“Myrina?”
“Shh,” she commanded. Her voice had lost its dreamy quality with that single command. She sounded all scientist.
He stilled. Waited while she ran her fingers through his hair again and again.
“Damn it to hell!” she said, her voice loud enough to echo around the room.
“Myrina?”
“Damn it to hell.” Her voice had softened, but he could still sense the energy bubbling up inside her.
To get her attention, he repositioned his hands on either side of her face, forcing her head round to look at him.
“Myrina. What’s…”
“It’s the hair.” She cut him off without hearing a word he’d said.
“What?”
“Come on, we need to go to your brother. He left us a clue.”
* * * * *
The puzzle pieces tumbled into place as Myrina marched through the doors of the Medical Clinic, Judan at her side. The almost lethargic confusion that had fogged her brain for the last few hours had dissipated as if a gust of wind had blown the clouds away, revealing blue sky. Even Judan’s proximity created little more than a hum of excitement, enhancing the adrenaline rush pumping through her system but no longer having the power to sidetrack her thoughts.
The answer had been, literally, right at her fingertips all along. From the moment she’d walked into Fenton’s office and felt that first tingle across her scalp. Staring her square in the face since her second meeting with Judan, when she’d gazed in gawky fascination at his hair. She couldn’t quite believe it was that easy.
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