by Cara Bristol
“Shuttle launch to commence in thirty seconds,” an electronic voice announced.
Marlix rose to his feet. His long-legged stride carried him out of the cabin. He followed the marked directions across the length of the shuttle to the Terran side.
Attendants gawked but did nothing. Rules did not apply to Alphas.
“Fifteen seconds.”
Marlix advanced down the aisle to row twenty.
“Ten seconds. Nine…”
Two men flanking an empty seat widened their eyes at his approach.
“Eight…”
“Where is the female who should be sitting here?” Marlix pointed at the vacant space.
“Seven… Six…”
One of the men, his hair gathered to resemble the backside of a conveyance beast, spoke. “She got off the shuttle, Commander.”
“Four seconds…”
Chapter Twenty-One
Tara sniffed. A faint, smoky odor drifted on the otherwise crisp autumn air. Had something caught fire? She scanned the horizon, but the landscape and sky appeared clear. She wrinkled her nose, shrugged, and pulled her thin jacket tighter.
As she tromped the few kilometers to the Enclave, she rehearsed her speech.
I’m sorry for everything. Let me prove I can accept your world. She wrinkled her nose again at the growing odor of smoke. It did not smell homey like the fires she’d lit to cook and heat water in their little hut.
Head bowed, she trudged along the road. I’ll do anything except give up on what we had. Please take me back.
Why should he? What did she have to offer? She’d caused him nothing but trouble. Tara faltered. What had seemed clear when she’d left the shuttle had begun to gray like the smoky sky. What was burning?
She lifted her head and sought out the Enclave in the distance. She blinked. Rubbed her eyes.
Blackened, smoking remains existed where the village used to be.
She swore in Parseon and sprinted toward the ruins. The stone guard tower remained, but the heavy wooden gates joining them had burned away. There were no sentries to welcome her or call her to halt.
In disbelief she crept through the columns into a village reduced to cinders and ash. Huts—gone. The blacksmith’s shop, the stables, the infirmary, the food silo and storage lockers, the taverns and inns—gone. Only the structures composed of stone had withstood the conflagration.
She did a slow circle and scanned her environs, pressing a hand to her chest in relief when she did not see bodies. At least the people had gotten out in time.
What the hell had happened? Had someone left a cooking fire unattended and caught his hut ablaze? Constructed of wood and thatch, the structures burned easily. But wouldn’t the fire-suppression brigade have been deployed to prevent it from spreading? She raised her face to the afternoon sky. There was no breeze, but then fire created its own wind.
She crept through the Enclave, mourning the lost livelihoods, aching at how little remained: a metal pot here, a ewer there, hunks of melted glass that could have been anything. So much loss. Her wandering led her to a smoldering ash heap that used to be her hut. She sank to her knees and wept.
When she exhausted her tears, she staggered to her feet. On her way out of town, she detoured to view the one building she figured would remain standing—the stone bathhouse. It was still there, but huge chunks had been knocked or blown out of its walls, as if it had come under attack. As she stared at the destruction, a horrifying realization seeped into her bones.
The village hadn’t burned by accident—it had been destroyed.
“Halt! Identify yourself!”
Tara screamed.
A beta, his clothing soaking wet, stepped out of the bathhouse, a crossbow planted against his shoulder.
Tara raised her hands. “Don’t shoot! I-I used to live here.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion, then riveted on her wrists. The beta gestured with the crossbow. “Take off your uniform jacket.”
Did he want dry clothing? Did he intend to rape her? “Don’t do this, please.” The violence in the wood returned to haunt her. Jergan. Urazi.
He raised the weapon. “Show me your right arm.”
“W-why?” Her hands shook as she unfastened her jacket and slipped it off.
The beta regarded her tattooed arm with a curl of his lip. “You’re the Terran female they sought! You caused this!”
Tara shook her head. “Me? How?”
“Commander Qalin and his guards came for you because you killed one of his alphas. They burned the village in retaliation.”
She reeled in horror. “B-but…what happened to the people?”
“Commander Dak learned of Qalin’s intention and evacuated the Enclave.”
“If the village was evacuated, why are you still here, and how do you know what happened?”
“After hunting, I returned to a deserted village. I was searching the bathhouse when Qalin and his guards stormed the village. I hid in one of the bathhouse basins. I overheard them talking.”
Tara squeezed her eyes shut and moaned. Would the horror never end? All she’d wanted to do was pick acca nuts and visit with Anika. How could something like this have happened? By what luck had Commander Dak learned of the plan and managed to save his people? And what about Urazi and Anika? Where would they have gone? To a refugee camp? Or had special arrangements been made for them? Perhaps they’d been taken to Marlix’s domicile.
She opened her eyes. “I am so sorry.” But no apology could atone for the tragedy. She recalled now Dak’s abrupt departure that very morning and Omra’s sense that something bad had happened. He must have received word of Qalin’s intentions.
Qalin wanted her dead. Marlix wanted her gone. After what had happened to his Enclave, no doubt Dak would not be sorry to see her leave. She had managed to antagonize three-fifths of the rulers of the planet. Could it get any worse?
The beta’s face tightened, and he raised the crossbow.
Ohnoohno. Tara’s hand shook too much to hold her jacket. It fell to the ground.
The beta’s eyes grew colder. “I should kill you right now, but I will give you a chance to leave. Go. Do not come back.”
Tara fled. She could not propel her trembling legs fast enough; she seemed to be moving in slow motion as she ran through the charred village. Her lungs burned, but she did not stop until her legs gave out alongside the road many kilometers from the village.
She cried then, with body-racking sobs. She’d been foolish to abandon the shuttle to chase a hope. Every direction she turned, her situation deteriorated. Marlix would not accept her again—she’d be lucky if he did not imprison her or have her flogged. It would take a month before the next shuttle left for Terra, but when it did, she would be on it. After the decimation of the Enclave, she doubted she would be welcome at Commander Dak’s.
Tara got to her feet and wiped her runny nose on her shoulder. By now, her quarters near the Bazaar had been assigned to another, so she would have to sleep in the stockroom of her shop.
Fear skittered through her. What if Qalin continued to search for her? A man like that would not give up. And he had unlimited resources.
As if the temperature had just dropped twenty degrees, she shivered. I’m a fugitive. Would her photo be plastered all over Parseon? WANTED FOR HOMICIDE: Terran female. Hair: brownish pink. Eyes: green. Distinguishing characteristic: full-sleeve tattoo on right arm.
She couldn’t live in her shop; she’d be too easy to find. Nor could she bunk down with Ramon and jeopardize his life
Tara rubbed her mouth. Where could she go?
Uncertainty and indecision dogged her as she trudged through the countryside. She didn’t even have enough funds for a tram ride. Most of her money was in her luggage and on its way to Terra. She would have to contact the embassy and hope the envoy could help. She wasn’t even sure if she headed in the right direction. How far she walked, she couldn’t say, but she gave a start when she recognized a forked t
ree beside a large stone, marking the wooded path that led to the golden sandy beach.
The site of their date. Planned by an arrogant, demanding Alpha who had courted her before her actions had led to such destruction, before her life had fallen to ruin, when the future still held promise. She ducked onto the path.
* * * *
Marlix slumped and held his head in his hands. Monto. Where could Tara have gone? He’d been stunned when he’d discovered she’d disembarked. With seconds to spare, he’d sounded an alarm and had the launch aborted. Had he not caved to the need to see her, had he been even seconds later, he would have been headed for Terra.
But he still didn’t know where she was.
The new occupant of her old quarters had been cleaning up the apartment after it had been vandalized and ransacked. He’d had no clues to her whereabouts. The Terran Embassy still thought she was on the shuttle. A more useless organization he’d never encountered. Tara’s booth had been shuttered. Upon inquiry, Marlix had learned the male who had assisted her—the one who’d evoked his jealousy—had been strangled to death. The timeframe corresponded to an unexpected visit to the Bazaar by Qalin—the evening before he’d unleashed his troops on the Enclave.
Not a coincidence.
He had to locate Tara before Qalin did. His vengeful anger was escalating, as evidenced by the vandalism of her quarters, then the murder of her friend, followed by the attempted annihilation of an entire village of people. The only consolation was that Qalin was as stymied as to Tara’s whereabouts as he was.
Marlix could not live with himself if she fell into the other Alpha’s hands. He hoped Tara would return to Dak’s domicile. After discovering Ramon’s death, Marlix had contacted Ilian and Dak to assist with locating her and learned she had been staying with Dak and Omra for the past week.
That the other Alpha had not mentioned it angered him until he realized he blamed the wrong person. Dak had accepted his word that he did not want to hear her name mentioned. Another example of what happened when one said things one did not mean.
Where would she have gone? The Enclave would have been a likely option, but it existed no more.
Marlix dug a hole in the sand with the toe of his boot. What foolishness had convinced him Tara might come to the golden sandy beach? Just because he held this place in special regard did not mean she did. He’d assumed she’d left the shuttle because she still had feelings for him, but what if she didn’t? What if she’d gotten off for a different reason?
What if she hadn’t disembarked voluntarily?
What if Qalin had found her?
Marlix jumped off the boulder upon which he sat. How much precious time had he wasted, wallowing in self-pity? He had to marshal his forces. Contact Dak and Ilian. Track down Qalin. If the Alpha had harmed her, he would disembowel him with his bare hands.
A branch cracked.
Marlix grabbed his dagger.
Onto the beach stepped Tara.
Her eyes flashed with joy before darkening with wariness and uncertainty, but the spark was enough.
“Tara,” he growled, so overcome by emotion, he could manage only her name.
Brambles and burrs snarled her hair, her arms and legs bore scratches, and streaks of black dirtied her face, her limbs, her clothing. But she was alive.
“Alpha,” she whispered.
He sheathed his knife, and in seconds, he had her in his arms. He plundered her mouth, saying with his body what language could not express. She shivered, her skin cold to his touch, and he could feel the bumpiness of a chill rash. He hugged her to his chest, rubbed her arms.
“I’m so sorry, so so—” Her teeth chattered.
He stifled her apologies with his mouth, drank in her tears. He lifted his head. “I am the one who must apologize. I sent you away and said untruths.”
“You told me you don’t do that.” Her voice quavered.
“With you, I have done many things I have not done before.” He pulled off his shirt. “Put this on.”
She shook her head. “You will be cold. I’m all right.”
“I am not asking,” he said.
She snorted but donned his uniform top. Marlix picked her up and carried her to the boulder upon which he’d been sitting. He took his seat and cradled her in his arms. “I feared Qalin had you.”
“He is searching for me. He burned the village. Jergan… Urazi… The Enclave… If not for me—”
“No. You are not responsible for Qalin’s actions. If anyone is to blame, it is I. I had sided with him against the Enclave on numerous occasions. Had I joined with Dak long ago, this could have been avoided. Qalin uses you to justify moving against the Enclave, to whip up antipathy against Dak, Commander Ilian, and myself.”
“The situation sounds even worse than I had feared.”
“I cannot lie. It is serious.” Marlix’s heart sank. He had to do right by her. He could not be selfish. “Parseon stands at the start of a civil war.”
Tara’s lips parted in dismay.
“I must insist—” His stomach twisted. “That you follow through and go home to Terra for your own safety.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I won’t go. You’ll have to drag me kicking and screaming onto the shuttle.”
He forced himself to glower at her. “I will do that if I have to.”
“Don’t give me that Alpha face.” She poked his chest. “It won’t work. The only thing that will get me on the shuttle is if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t care about me.”
Marlix dragged his gaze across her face. Green eyes sparked with challenge, but the regard glowing in their depths unraveled the vestiges of his willpower. He could not force the necessary words past his lips. He could not reject her again. “Then I have no choice but to do everything in my power to keep you safe.” Double security. Fortify his domicile. Kill Qalin. It needed to be done anyway for the good of Parseon.
“Then it’s settled. I’m staying.” She sagged against him, and he realized her confidence had been bravado.
“But you must obey.” He needed to ensure she understood.
“Because that is what breeders do.” She peeked at him from under her lashes in a demure and docile fashion. He wasn’t naive. She would never fully comply the way a female should. She proved it by tracing his collarbone with a teasing finger.
He stilled her marauding hand. “Because obedience will keep you safe.” He tried to sound stern. “It is more imperative now than ever.”
“But I’m still your breeder?” She bit her lip.
Of course. He had claimed her. Rash words and actions did not alter that. “Yes. I will replace the ring.” He had behaved like an immature child throwing a tantrum. Besides reminding her to whom she belonged, the new insignia would serve as an admonishment to him.
She cuddled against him. His manhood, too long denied the succor of her body, swelled. Had the warmth of a false summer still been upon them, he would have laid her on the sand and sent the birds squawking into flight, but shadows stretched long, and what had been golden grayed in the waning light. With nightfall crept a chill. As much as he would relish once more taking Tara in their special place, prudence demanded he refrain.
* * * *
They’d attracted surreptitious stares on the tram, a bare-chested Alpha and a Terran female wearing his uniform shirt. She’d snuggled into it, inhaling his scent that clung to the fabric. Though it was unusual for an Alpha to engage in public displays of affection, he kept his hand pressed to the base of her spine for the duration of the brief ride.
His touch burned through two layers of clothing, her shirt and his. With the lightest pressure, he swirled his thumb in a lazy pattern, eliciting an electrifying effect on her nerves. She tingled from her hair follicles to her toes, particularly between her legs. She’d grown damp, and her nipples had beaded, the right one feeling the phantom weight of the insignia she would wear again.
He hustled her off the tram, and they sped the h
alf kilometer to his abode. She panted through her arousal, breathing through her mouth. Every brush of Marlix’s body seemed magnified tenfold. She skipped on air beside him, enveloped in the aura of his presence.
His pace picked up as they neared his domicile, and when they reached the elevation tube—he all but shoved her into the warm chamber. The door sealed, and the lights came on, but instead of activating the descent, Marlix fastened his mouth to hers. She dug her fingers into his biceps and kissed him for all she was worth.
He broke his hold long enough to command, “You will not leave me again.”
“No,” she murmured. There was no reason to point out that he had ordered her to leave. Enough fault existed on both sides, and she hoped he had forgiven her for her role as she had forgiven him. She splayed her hands over his chest. His skin, cooled from the chill air, heated under her touch.
Marlix nipped her neck. A pleasurable pain shot to her core. He yanked his shirt off her.
“You’re not going to rip it?” she teased.
“The shirt is constructed from your special fabric. I had found your needles outside the Bazaar and commissioned new uniforms. I only wish they had been completed before Qalin’s guards had attacked.”
Cocooned in their reconciliation, she hadn’t recognized her own fabric. But at the mention of Urazi, the effects of her poor judgment returned to haunt her, and a measure of her desire receded. “I’m so sor—”
He placed his finger over her lips. “He has recovered. Let’s us not talk of him in this moment.”
She nodded but now wondered if Marlix had insisted she don his shirt to protect her from more than the cold.
“My shirt will not tear,” he reiterated, his eyes glittering with devilment. “Yours, however, will.” He grabbed hold and tore it from collar to hem, then hauled her up and fastened his mouth onto her left nipple. Sweet, hot sensation zinged through the bud and into her womb. She clutched a handful of his crisp hair. Holding her with one arm across her lower spine, he tugged at her pants with the other. He swore as it resisted his efforts, and she giggled as she toed at her shoes. Pants and shoes fell in a heap. Panties followed.
