by Cara Bristol
Monto. Here he was, thinking of possibilities again.
Outside the window, a disagreement unfolded between a male and a female. Though Marlix could not hear, he could sense the heat of their words. Then the male’s face hardened, and he straightened his posture. The female slumped into contrition. She would feel the sting of the sudon later, Marlix guessed. He sighed. “It is better for Tara that I let her go. There have been…political developments that I need to apprise you of after you have recovered, but aside from that, Tara and I would not make a good match. She is not of Parseon.”
“You knew that when you took her.”
“She would not have the freedom she is accustomed to.”
“Perhaps she does not want the freedom.”
“She is Terran. Of course she does.”
“Have you asked her?”
“No. She is female. Why would I ask?”
Urazi snorted in exasperation, and Marlix spun around.
“Which is it?” Urazi threw up his hands. He winced from the effort but continued. “If you consider her to be Terran, then give her the choice. If her femaleness is your primary consideration, then take what you are entitled to. You are Alpha.”
He wasn’t certain anymore that he was entitled to anything. He slipped his hand into his pocket and fingered her ring. “I do not want you.” He would carry her broken insignia and the image of her devastated expression for the rest of his life.
“She will not serve my needs,” Marlix said and halted the discussion because he did not want to delve into the truth. Tara met his needs. He could not satisfy hers, and she was better off without him.
Chapter Twenty
What a day! Business had finally tapered off, allowing Ramon to tidy the shop. But with downtime, he missed Tara. Shuttles came and went, but he had a strong hunch he would never see her again. As promised, she had promoted him to manager, granted him signing authority, and they’d hired a beta to assist in the shop.
Tara had spent most of the week holed up at the domicile of Alpha Commander Dak. Ramon had been in communication with her, but he’d only seen her twice, once to interview clerks and then when she came to approve some final documents. Both times she looked haggard, but she did not appear to have been further mistreated.
At first he’d questioned her decision to leave Parseon, but from the little he learned, he decided Terra would be the safest place for her. She needed to return home before more than her heart got injured. In reality, Parseon was no place for a female, especially one as vulnerable as she. Oh, she pretended to be a hardass—and probably believed she was one—but she was the biggest softie he’d ever met.
He’d tried to help after she’d been kidnapped by Commander Marlix and had discovered the treaty wasn’t worth the scroll it was printed on. Security, run by Parseon, had flat-out refused to assist, saying without a positive ID of the Alpha who had allegedly taken her, nothing could be done. Embassy personnel had been concerned and had promised to investigate, but once Commander Dak had come into the picture, they’d become as uncooperative as Bazaar security.
Ramon had thought of Dak as the benevolent Alpha, but he hadn’t hesitated to close ranks when a peer had gotten into trouble. Now Tara was staying in his abode after having been held hostage by Marlix, reputed to be one of the cruelest Alphas of them all. He knew she believed she’d fallen in love with him, but Ramon was convinced she’d been brainwashed. He shuddered to contemplate what she must have endured at his hands.
He should have done more! She’d sent him an SOS, and he’d run to the embassy, but Dak or Marlix or both had quashed the investigation and sent word threatening that “further interference” would “not be tolerated.” Ramon knew what that meant. Imprisonment. Flogging. He had witnessed the public punishments in the village square. To his shame, he’d done nothing else. Out of fear for himself, he had kept his mouth shut.
It killed him every time Tara praised him and told him what a good friend he was.
Ramon would not relax until she was aboard the shuttle bound for Terra. Maybe when she was safe, he could begin to forgive himself.
He straightened the sewing notions on the wall, hanging the needles, buttons, zippers, and other packages in their proper places. From outside the booth, a din arose like chickens squawking when a predator sneaked up on the henhouse. He stared in amazement as a clamor of people stampeded past the booth.
Was the Bazaar tent on fire? Were they under attack?
He rushed to the storefront to peer into the aisle. “What’s going on?” he yelled.
A beta dashing by didn’t even slow. “Commander Qalin!”
In less than a minute, the crowd disappeared from the Bazaar, and Ramon observed that even a few vendors had vacated their booths. They hadn’t even bothered to lock up but had fled with the shoppers.
Out of the silence came a footfall. Qalin rounded the corner at the end of the row.
Ramon had never seen this particular Alpha before but recognized he was one by the arrogant roll of his gait and the menacing alpha guards who flanked him. Qalin marched with intent and purpose, and relief shuddered through Ramon that he was not a citizen of Parseon. An instinct to follow the crowd arose, but he could not leave Tara’s shop unattended. If he did nothing else, he could protect her business.
He ducked behind the counter and straightened the already tidy items on it so he would appear occupied when the Alpha strode by.
He did not pass.
Ramon’s stomach dropped when Qalin loomed in front of the store. He shifted his gaze from the Alpha to the guards and bravely raised his chin. What could they want with TEXTILES BY TARA? Don’t assume the worst. Maybe they only want the bulletproof fabric.
Qalin entered the store, and one glimpse was enough to convince Ramon that the rumors of atrocities committed by the most notorious Alpha were true. Qalin shared the height and brawn of Marlix and Dak, but where they were handsome men with symmetrical, almost perfect features, Qalin wore his brutality in the ugliness of his face. A ridged forehead jutted over thickly ridged brows and opaque eyes, the left one drooping lower than the right. Deep grooves slashed his cheeks, and his mouth was twisted by a permanent, cruel sneer.
Ramon cleared his throat, but his voice still quavered when he asked, “Is there something I can help you with?”
“I have come for the Terran female,” Qalin said. “Where is she?”
Ramon nearly wet his pants. His mind raced for a plausible lie. He would not betray Tara. “She’s not here.”
If Qalin signaled one of his men, Ramon didn’t see, but suddenly one of the guards hoisted him by the throat, slammed him into the heavy tent post, and held him there. Choking and gasping, Ramon fought to draw air into his lungs.
“Where is she?” Qalin demanded.
“I-I don’t…know.”
The guard tightened his fingers.
“Guess.”
The band around his larynx contracted more. Pain exploded. Blackness crowded his vision. “H-her quart-quarters?”
“We have been there. I will give you one last chance.” Qalin leaned close, touched him with his rank breath. “Where is the Terran female?”
Agony impeded his ability to think. He had to send them someplace where he knew Tara wasn’t, so he gave them the first name his panicked, oxygen-stressed brain could retrieve. “En-enclave.” He forced out a whisper, wondering if his throat would be permanently damaged.
“Excellent.” Qalin stepped back. Cold, black eyes did not even blink. The Alpha lifted his hand with a desultory motion. “Kill him.”
* * * *
Omra hugged Tara. “Are you sure you cannot stay? You may remain with us for as long as you like.”
“You and the Commander have been wonderful, but I need to leave.” Tara was grateful and touched by the hospitality Omra had offered during the past week. But seeing the obvious love and affection between her and Dak jabbed a dagger into her heart. “If I don’t go now, I’ll miss the shuttle,
and it will be weeks before another departs.”
Omra sighed. “I understand.” She rubbed her abdomen. “Dak has promised that on his next diplomatic mission to Terra after Berik is born, he will take me. Perhaps we can visit?” She eyed Tara expectantly.
“I would love that!” Tara exclaimed.
“I regret Dak could not be here to see you off. He received a message this morning and rushed out before the light arose.” Omra nibbled her bottom lip in concern.
“I imagine in his position, he is called away often,” Tara said to relieve her obvious worry.
“More so lately”—Omra crossed her arms and hugged herself—“but this time, I had a really bad feeling. It seemed serious.”
“What do you think it was?”
“I wish I knew.”
“I’m sure it will be fine. If anyone can handle a crisis, Commander Dak can.” Tara tried to reassure her.
“You’re right.” Omra massaged her abdomen. “Perhaps it is just my condition. Gestating turns me into a worrier.” She didn’t look convinced.
“You’ve done so much for me, I hate to ask, but could I impose on you for one more favor?” Tara hesitated. “Since yesterday, I’ve tried to contact Ramon on your PCD to say good-bye, but he has not responded to my messages. Would you contact him for me? Inform him I have left, and I will be in touch?”
“I would be happy to.” Omra grinned. “I’ll tell him in person. It will give me an excuse to have Dak take me to the Bazaar, so I can shop.” She paused. “What is your Terran saying? Kill two bulls with one stone?”
“Two birds,” Tara corrected.
“Yes, that,” Omra said.
* * * *
Tara strapped herself into her hard, uncomfortable seat in the Terran section of the shuttle and tried to prepare herself for the thirteen-day, butt-busting flight. After dealing with the extremely tall Parseon males, she’d come to view Terran men as small, but that didn’t hold true when she was being squished from both sides. She pressed her elbows against her body and folded her hands in her lap. Of course she’d gotten the middle seat! She hoped her assigned sleeping pod would be more comfortable, but she doubted it. If she had any questions about where Terrans ranked in society, the accommodations provided the answers. The PTA—Parseon Travel Authority—assigned passengers seats by their status. On her way to the overcrowded, uncomfortable seats, she’d passed by a spacious, luxurious alpha lounge and the adequate beta section—both vacant because few Parseons traveled to Terra. She’d heard the shuttle contained an Alpha Commander cabin, which so far had been used only by Dak.
“Are you going home on vacation or for good?” asked a ponytailed man to her right. An innocuous query asked by a congenial fellow passenger.
“For good,” she mumbled. Her home existed with a certain golden-eyed Alpha Commander. But he had rejected her.
“I’ll be back,” Ponytail offered. “I’m going for a little R and R.” He relaxed into his seat, and Tara stifled a groan. Just her luck to be seated next to someone chatty. But it was too much to hope that he wouldn’t speak for thirteen days.
“Did you work at the Bazaar? I hadn’t seen you around.”
“It’s a big place.” She pictured Marlix striding into her store. Examining a bolt of silk. Laughing. Of all the shops in all the markets in all the worlds, he walks into mine.
“I imagine it must have been challenging for a woman to work on Parseon.”
“It had its moments.” Mostly good ones. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to stave off tears. She would never see Marlix again.
“I think Parseon offers a lot of opportunity if you’re a man, but if I were female, I’d think twice about coming here.”
“One should not pass up on opportunities just because they are challenging.”
“Good point.” The man craned his head and glanced around. “Did you hear about the kidnapping, though?” he whispered. “One of the Alphas marched into the Bazaar and abducted one of the women vendors right out of her stall. He raped her, and when he finished, he enslaved her at a brothel.”
Tara’s jaw dropped. “That’s not true!” she sputtered.
“I think it is,” Ponytail said with all the confidence of the clueless. “I heard it from a buddy, who heard it from his boss, who heard it from a vendor, who saw it happen.”
“I heard it too,” the passenger on Tara’s left chimed in. “The Alpha and his beta both assaulted her, and a doctor had to be called in.”
“That’s not what happened!” She shook her head.
“How do you know?” Ponytail frowned.
“Because…because I know the woman! The Alpha took her out of the Bazaar because she’d been injured and needed medical assistance. She fell in love with him and stayed because she wanted to.” She punctuated her explanation with a scowl.
“I don’t know…” Ponytail cocked his head doubtfully.” Even if what you say is true, it still sounds like kidnapping. I’ll bet she’s suffering from Stockholm syndrome.”
“She is not! She loves him and—he loves her.” Of the first part, she was certain. Once, she’d hoped for the second part, but she’d destroyed any chance.
Hadn’t she?
Her unintentional disobedience had caused a tragedy, but love was not brittle or fragile. It was flexible, and that made it strong.
“I do not care. I do not want you.”
“I do not say things I do not mean.”
He’d said those things with his words. But his actions contradicted those statements. He’d claimed her as his breeder. He had taken her from the Bazaar. Sought medical attention for her. Held her, comforted her, made love to her in ways probably no Parseon male had done with a female. Tried to please her. Taken her on a date!
His behavior had demonstrated kindness and flexibility. He would demand but then retreat and request. He’d changed his mind and reversed his actions.
What if he could forgive too?
She’d fled before she could find out. She’d always thought of herself as a fighter, but in reality, she was a runner, a scared rabbit. When her mother had died, she’d hidden from the authorities. After Bobby had attacked her, she’d fled Terra. After Marlix had ordered her to leave, she’d run before he could take her to the tram.
What if she had stayed and fought? Or begged. What if she’d done anything other than what she had? Would things have been different?
You can’t make somebody love you. She slumped in her seat. Marlix had rejected her. He’d had two weeks to find her if he’d changed his mind, but he hadn’t. She was doing the right thing by going home.
Except Terra wasn’t home. Parseon was. And leaving didn’t feel right. It felt miserable.
Tara tore off her seat restraint. “Excuse me, I need to leave.” She jumped up and scrambled over the man in the aisle seat.
“Leave? We’re about to launch. Where are you going?” asked Ponytail.
“Home,” she said and raced for the exit.
A beta attendant barred her path. “Boarding has been completed. The flight inspection has begun, and we launch in twenty minutes.”
“I need to get off the shuttle.”
“PTA regulations do not allow passengers to disembark once prelaunch has been initiated. Return to your assigned seat.”
“Get out of my way.” Tara glared at him.
“Identify yourself,” he demanded.
“Fuck off.” She shoved the beta hard, and he fell across a row of passengers. Tara ran.
“Stop that Terran!” the beta shouted.
Tara squeezed through the closing shuttle door. She doubted they would disrupt the launch to chase her but wasn’t going to chance it. She ran until she cleared the interplanetary terminal. Outside, she slowed to a jog and headed for the sky tram.
* * * *
Marlix arrived at the shuttle ten minutes before launch. He’d strode on board, giving no indication of the tremendous relief weakening his knees. His orders had gotten the P
TA to open the sealed hatch, but not even an Alpha could halt a shuttle once it had launched.
He’d searched for Tara the past week, but she’d seemed to have vanished. He finally thought to check the interplanetary flight manifests and located her name.
He would have arrived sooner, except he’d received communication from Dak that Qalin’s army planned to attack the Enclave, requiring an immediate evacuation and strategy meeting. Enclave residents had been relocated to refugee camps, and Marlix had moved a convalescing Urazi and a grieving Anika to his underground abode.
Though he would be in close contact with Dak and Ilian during his absence, this was the worst possible time to travel to Terra.
But Marlix would not allow his breeder to leave him. He considered ordering the PTA to haul her off the flight, but, knowing her temper as he did, he was certain that would have antagonized her, and he needed her receptive so she would accept his apology. He had told her once he did not say things he did not mean, but he’d broken his rule and now faced the consequences.
What better way to demonstrate his sincerity than to meet her on her own ground? She would feel more secure there. And if he couldn’t coax her, as a last resort, he would take her again. Getting her off Terra might prove more challenging than whisking her out of the Bazaar, but he was resourceful. He would win.
He’d warned her of that too. He would always win.
Losing Tara was not an option.
An attendant escorted him to the Alpha cabin. “Is there anything I can get you, Commander?”
“You can tell me where Tara Diehl is seated.”
“Certainly.” The beta called up a screen and tapped into it. “She is located in the Terran section, row twenty, seat B. Shall I have her brought to you?”
Marlix could picture Tara dragged down the aisle, kicking and spitting epithets. That would not soften her to what he had to say.
“No. That is all.” Marlix waved his dismissal.
He sank into the wide, padded chair and stared at the screen. Perhaps he should summon her. While he had planned to surprise her, if he waited until they arrived on Terra, it would be nearly two weeks until he saw her, before he could speak to her and begin to convince her to return. Perhaps he should begin to soften her now.
