gaian consortium 06 - zhore deception

by Pope, Christine

  They began to rock together, slowly, then faster and faster. Her nails were digging into his shoulders, but she doubted he even noticed. Everything was in this connection between them — she could feel his love and his desire flowing out and encircling them both, pulling them that much closer together. And she allowed something to escape — just a little, just a pulse of her own need, her affection for him. Anything more, and she knew she ran the risk of him detecting far more than she wanted him to.

  That seemed to be enough, though. His arms tightened around her, even as she felt him drive deeper, then release, the wild ecstasy pouring from him catching her up as well, swirling around her while her own orgasm exploded through her, along every vein, every nerve ending, every cell in her body. All she could do was hang onto him, riding it out, knowing that she didn’t dare do anything else until that wave of pleasure finally ebbed, leaving her gasping in his arms.

  Neither of them spoke. He only held her tightly against him, his mouth against her hair, both their chests heaving for breath. Trinity wished it could always be like this — bodies pressed together, his love for her such a palpable thing that she thought she might be able to reach out and touch it, feel it flow over her fingers like a ribbon of sun-warmed silk.

  But even in that moment of perfect harmony, she knew this bliss couldn’t last.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The most natural thing would have been for Zhanna to move into his residence. After all, they had no need of separate apartments, now that they had shared themselves fully. But when he asked her, she’d only shaken her head and told him,

  “Not yet, Zhandar.”

  He hadn’t insisted, although her refusal troubled him greatly. She seemed happy enough to let matters remain as they were between them, even as the days and then weeks began to pass. And because she came to his apartment nearly every night, only slipping out in the early morning hours so she could go home and prepare herself for work, he told himself that their current arrangement was almost the same as living together.

  Almost.

  The Gaians, he had heard, had quite elaborate wedding rituals, with special clothing and music and flowers, and the Eridanis celebrated their matches by spending at least a month traveling to new places so the married couple could form new memories together. They were not quite as formal here on Zhoraan, of course. The physical communion he and Zhanna had shared was quite enough to prove their intention of spending the rest of their lives together. But it was as if, even though she had taken that very large step, she could not quite steel herself to make the final one of truly living with him as his wife.

  He tried to reassure himself that she was only reluctant because they had not yet made a formal announcement at their work. From a few head tilts and awkward pauses, Zhandar had guessed that Nizhal, one of the other designers in the office, had realized something not entirely professional was being shared between his supervisor and the director’s new assistant, but of course Nizhal was far too well-mannered to actually say anything to either of them.

  And because Zhanna lived in the same city — only one district over from his — and because she came to him every night, Zhandar had not suffered the torture of being truly separated from her. She knew as well as he did that once two Zhore had made their soul bond, an actual separation of any real distance or time would result in their demise. It was only when that soul bond was broken by death that one of his people could survive the loss of their mate.

  Not that they would particularly want to. Most who lost their partners did not live long afterward, but then, deaths such as Elzhair’s were rare. Old age claimed most of Zhandar’s people, not the sort of untimely tragedy that had taken his late wife’s life.

  Now Zhanna came into his office, but because the door was open and the third hour of the afternoon not yet past, he knew they would share no confidences. Too many people around.

  “Brezhanne just contacted me,” Zhanna informed him. “All the beds have been laid down, and the piping for the drip system installed. They will need you to come inspect the site and let them know if all is in order so that they can begin bringing in the plants and soil.”

  Her voice was brisk, businesslike. He expected no less, of course, but at the same time he wished he could hear the soft, throaty tone it took on when they were alone together.

  “Let her know that we will be there within the hour.”

  Zhanna inclined her head and headed back to her office. It would be something, this small excursion of theirs. At least they would be alone in his car, and he might be able to take her hand, lay his hand on her knee. Perhaps even steal a kiss, if the opportunity presented itself. Some might say he was torturing himself with these small intimacies, but better to have that tiny taste of her rather than nothing at all.

  Nothing, he thought then, and wanted to shake his head at himself, at this need that seemed to have overcome all his common sense. Only nothing for these few hours while we remain at work. Once you are home, you will have all of her.

  Again, and again. It seemed he would never tire of tasting her, and she certainly showed no sign of wanting to slow things down. Indeed, he got the distinct impression that she would have been happy making love all night, if it weren’t that they had to get up and go to the office, and behave as if nothing untoward was happening between them.

  It wasn’t untoward, though. Their being together was the most natural thing in the world, and he wondered how long she would allow matters to stand as they were.

  And how long he would be willing to wait.

  * * *

  Zhandar was getting edgy, that much Trinity could tell, but living with him as his wife was something she couldn’t allow herself to do. Bad enough that every moment they spent together was being recorded by that damned implant inside her head. If she was with him day and night, then he would have absolutely no privacy at all. And while she didn’t like using work as the excuse to maintain separate residences, at least it was an excuse that he seemed to accept…for the moment, anyway.

  Usually she enjoyed going on these field trips with him. Today, though, she worried that he would use the privacy of his car to talk to her about their current living arrangements, or lack thereof.

  Her concerns were confirmed when he said, not even a moment after they left the garage under their office building, “It has been nearly a month since we first sealed our bond.”

  Trinity didn’t reply at once. The now-familiar streets were passing by outside, but in that moment they suddenly seemed alien once again, hostile. But she knew that was only her own emotions coloring what she saw.

  After a long pause, she replied, “And it has been a wonderful month.”

  She couldn’t see his face, but she somehow knew that his mouth tightened behind the low-hanging hood. “Yes, it has…but it could have been even more wonderful. Zhanna, no one will think we have acted in a precipitate manner for sharing one roof after all this time.”

  All this time. Among the commitment-phobic men she’d dated, a month was just barely enough time to be given a spot in a drawer for a few spare pairs of underwear. But Zhandar wasn’t like anyone else she’d ever known. And it was true among the Zhore that, once they committed to one another, there were no lengthy engagements, no real courtship periods. They knew they were meant for one another, and so they began to live together. Simple.

  Only in her case, things were far from simple. She already knew that leaving would hurt him immeasurably, but at the same time, she stubbornly hoped avoiding that final step would lessen the hurt, if only a little. Living apart, she could pretend that she wasn’t truly his wife, even though Zhore society would view their relationship very differently.

  “Perhaps we can talk about this tonight,” she said. “I don’t see any point in having an argument right before we meet with the foreperson at the construction site.”

  Anger flared out from him, but just as quickly he pushed it back. It was a banked fire, though, one that could come roarin
g to life again at any moment. “Were we having an argument?” he asked, voice tight.

  She turned away from him to stare out the window. “Not yet.”

  They remained coolly silent for the rest of the ride to the new building. Once they arrived, they stayed quiet during the elevator ride up to the rooftop. Luckily, the foreperson didn’t seem to notice anything amiss about the way Zhandar and his assistant acted toward one another, and Trinity thanked God for that. He conducted his inspection with grave courtesy, thanked the foreperson for her patience with his changes, and praised her for the finished product.

  “Yes, we are ready for the final step,” Zhandar told her. “I’ll give the order for the soil and plants to be delivered. They will be here tomorrow morning, if that suits you.”

  “It suits me very well,” she said. “For after this project, I will go on retreat for a while. It is time for me to rest, I think. But I will be happy, knowing that we brought life to this place.”

  “And I, and my colleagues, will be happy as well.” He clasped his hands together and bowed over them, and the foreperson did the same. Standing off to one side, Trinity wondered if she should make the same gesture of respect, but then decided against it, since she hadn’t actually been part of the conversation.

  He was polite enough as he made a few requests of her, such as asking her to confirm the time of delivery for the soil the next morning, but there was a notable lack of warmth in his voice. She told herself not to worry, that he was merely being formal in front of the foreperson, but she still felt a faint thread of unease working its way down her spine, chilling her despite the mild day.

  When they were back in the car and headed toward their office, he said, “Perhaps it would be better if you stayed at your apartment this evening.”

  “Really?” she replied. “You are asking that of me?”

  “Yes,” he said tersely, “I am asking that of you.”

  She lifted her shoulders, not caring whether she looked or sounded properly Zhore in that moment. “Suit yourself.”

  The rest of the afternoon felt like pure torture, but she managed to get through it somehow. And she left with the rest of her coworkers, rather than lingering in her office, pretending to be busy with some project or another. On the way out, Nizhal gave her the Zhore equivalent of the side-eye — that is, his hood tilted somewhat quizzically in her direction, although he didn’t speak — but that was the extent of anyone’s reaction to her leaving on time for once.

  Which was just as well. Right then she was profoundly grateful for the empathic aliens’ reticence about prying into anyone else’s affairs. It took her last ounce of energy to take the light rail home, then make her way to her apartment. Why she felt so tired, she wasn’t sure. True, being at odds with Zhandar did little to help her outlook on life, but she’d been draggy and listless for the past couple of days.

  Probably the return of the monthly trouble, she told herself as she shut the door behind her. You’re not used to having to deal with it, and it should be due any day now.

  Well, that made sense. Once women in the Consortium started getting their shots, their periods were light or, in Trinity’s case, basically nonexistent. But who knew how those counter-shots Gabriel’s doctors had given her were messing with her system.

  Every time she came home, she was on edge, wondering if she was going to find Blake Chu waiting for her in the elevator to whisk her away so she could be on the receiving end of another round of browbeating. She sort of doubted that Gabriel was all that happy to see the way she lost herself in Zhandar’s arms night after night.

  Who knew that faking not enjoying yourself in bed would be so damn difficult?

  But she hadn’t heard from her handlers, which meant that either Gabriel had found the inner strength to not go all alpha male on her, or that someone even farther up the food chain had told him he needed to back off. Whatever the reason for his hands-off approach lately, she was glad for it. Having to walk a tightrope with Zhandar all the time was hard enough.

  And that exchange earlier today…she knew he was tired of her holding him at arm’s length, but at the same time, she’d never thought he would go so far as to request some time away from her. That was such an un-Zhore-like response to the situation that she knew she must have upset him greatly.

  The trouble was, she had no idea what else she could have done.

  Sighing, she pulled off her heavy cloak and tossed it over the arm of a chair. If she was going to order in any food later, she’d have to put it back on, but for now it felt good to be free of that continual weight on her shoulders. She still wondered how the Zhore could put up with those damn things day in and day out, but maybe it wasn’t as much of a problem when you’d been doing it since childhood.

  It was strange to be here and know that she wouldn’t be going over to Zhandar’s apartment tonight. Occasionally she would come home first to gather a few things, but now, to be wandering around aimlessly, not sure what to do next….

  Maybe a nice hot bath. She’d never been much of a bath person — it was a luxury her water allotment back on Gaia really hadn’t allowed — but the bathtub in this apartment was luxurious, carved stone with plants all around it, and no one on Zhoraan seemed to be terribly concerned about water consumption.

  The sound of the water filling the tub was soothing enough. On a whim, she’d bought some scented bath oil a few weeks back, but this was the first time she’d used it. She opened the cabinet to retrieve it, and then her gaze fell on the box that contained spare tubes of shampoo.

  Well, that was what the box said, anyway. What it actually contained were a series of small innocuous-looking plastic tabs.

  If you put one of those tabs on your tongue and it turned purple, it meant you were pregnant.

  Trinity had used a couple of them the first few times she and Zhandar were intimate. Due diligence and all that. But the tabs had remained stubbornly white, and she’d decided she only needed to check once a week. The last time had been a week ago, and still nothing. Maybe humans and Zhore weren’t quite as cross-fertile as she’d been led to believe.

  Still, she knew she should be checking. Her hand hovered over the box, and she hesitated. She’d been feeling so very tired lately….

  She really didn’t want to complete the thought, just as she didn’t want to pick up one of the tabs and set it on her tongue. Because once she knew, there would be no turning back. She’d see it, and Gabriel would see it, and the next thing she knew, an extraction team would be there, taking her away.

  And she couldn’t bear that. Especially not today, when she and Zhandar had parted on such bad terms.

  But if the people watching the feed saw her start to pick up one of the tabs, and not go through with the test….

  That would be much, much worse.

  Before she could lose her nerve and stop herself, she popped open the box and extracted one of the pieces of white plastic, then set it on her tongue. Thirty seconds to wait, and then she would know. It felt hard and foreign in her mouth, and she wanted to spit it out, even though it had no actual taste. She kept it there, however, because she knew that was what she had to do.

  The plastic tingled on her tongue, letting her know that the thirty seconds were up. Using her thumb and forefinger, she pulled out the little tab.

  Bright purple.

  Her stomach lurched, and the piece of plastic fell from her fingers onto the stone countertop with a faint clink.

  No, she thought. No.

  Problem was, she could think that all she wanted, but it wouldn’t change the fact that she was now carrying Zhandar’s child.

  Pressing her hands on the counter, she stared into the mirror, into the alien face that had somehow become hers over the past month, even though she knew it wasn’t her, not really. “All right, Gabriel,” she said distinctly. “It looks like you got what you wanted. So you can send your lackeys to come get me.”

  Then she had to turn away from the mirror, beca
use tears had begun to sting her eyes. She tried to blink hard so they would disappear, but that didn’t work. Angrily, she reached up to wipe away the moisture that had begun to trickle down her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was to be a big weeping mess when Blake or Gabriel or whoever it was showed up to take her away.

  The door chime sounded, and she startled, thinking that they’d gotten here already. No, that was ridiculous. Even Gabriel Brant didn’t move that fast. Besides, she doubted he would do anything so polite as ring the door chime.

  Mystified, she hurried out to the front room, grabbing her cloak along the way so she could shrug into it and thereby satisfy convention by not shocking whoever was waiting outside her door. But even before she opened it, she realized who stood there. She could feel him, warm and comforting, but at the same time worried and contrite, blaming himself for his harsh words earlier that afternoon.

  “Zhanna?” came Zhandar’s voice. “What is the matter?”

  Oh, hell. In her agony, she’d probably been broadcasting all over the place, her barriers shattered to rubble by the news she’d just received. “Nothing, Zhandar,” she said through the door, hoping she sounded relatively normal.

  “Let me in,” he replied.

  It was not a request, she could tell. Anyway, it wasn’t as if she could just leave him standing out there in the foyer. At least if he was inside her apartment, they’d be someplace private.

  She pressed her palm against the door’s controls, and it slid open. Zhandar stood immediately outside. As always, his face was concealed, but she could feel the agitation roiling the air around him, as if he was moving within his own personal thundercloud.

  He came inside, and she shut the door behind him. Almost at once he pushed back his hood. His features were strained with worry, and he came to her in the very next second and took her hands.