He tried to ignore the presentiment; Bellons had been bred for war, and he should be reveling, glorying in the preparations. But those preliminaries meant sending his children back to the homeworld.
A seductive scent, spicy and mysterious, tantalized him away from thoughts of war. His nostrils flared in appreciation. The rest of his body responded with the ancient instincts, heating and growing hard. He grinned, not moving his forearm, simply glorying in the scent. "I thought you'd never finish your shower."
"Miss me?" Cat sat on the bed, ran her hand under the covers and up his bare leg. "What did you do while you waited?"
Her husky voice and teasing touch brought all his nerve endings to exquisite attention. "I spent some time with Morgan."
"Good. I don't want her to have any reason to resent her new brother. Morgan still mourns her natural mother's death and needs reassurance. We can't allow her to think she's losing her father now, or me as her Oath Mother. She must know we both love her as much now as before Garrett's birth." Cat let out a soft sigh.
The sigh bothered him. "Nothing is amiss with her Oath Mother? You took longer in the shower than I thought you would." Concern moved him to sit up. "Are you unwell?"
"Rest easy. I did an exercise session this morning and as a result had a couple of sore spots I let the hot water pound."
"That's all?"
"That's all. I think I'll have a cup of tea. Want one?"
"Aye. I won't sleep until you've come to bed, anyway." He'd spent seven years of restless, sleepless nights without her, so he spoke from unpalatable experience. Wulfe opted to pull on a pair of pliable Bellon leather breeches instead of his uniform trousers while Cat found a robe to wrap around herself.
He followed her into the common room of their suite, seating himself at the desk area both used when they had work but still wanted to be in the midst of family. If he needed quiet, his office adjoined the living area and could be accessed from the corridor by the crew. His daughter, Morgan, and the children's nurse, Fallon, slept in other sleeping chambers off the communal area of the suite.
Cat's private office, situated two decks down in the sciences area, saw her more often again these days as she recovered from childbirth.
Cat brought a copper pot of tea back from the dispenser. She passed him a filled mug and settled her slight weight in his lap, then shifted position. The movement snugged intriguing parts of her anatomy against his, earned her his full attention.
Her mesmerizing gaze met his, stealing his heart all over again as she seemed to look down into his soul. He set the mug of hot tea aside so he could caress the smoothness of her slender neck. Wulfe nuzzled her collarbone when her silk robe slipped down one shoulder. He kissed Cat's full lips. Greed and hunger and the need to be gentle with her warred feverishly inside him.
Her lush taste and scent ignited ancient Bellon instincts, fanned the flame of heated desire. Cat's wealth of mahogany-red hair cascaded around him. The curls brushed his bare torso, each soft strand a sweet torment as she pressed her body to his. Her firm full breast scorched his palm through the silken robe.
Amber eyes gone smoky with passion, Cat lifted her head a bit, turned as though listening. The glow of lustful, eager desire on her face muted, though only a bit. "The babe's awake."
"Your mental link with him grows stronger every day."
"Little by little. I believe your son is hungry again."
"The boy has the appetite of a true warrior."
"He is your son, after all." Cat moved to slip from his lap, a look of reluctance on her face. "He eats like you."
Wulfe stood, taking her with him in his arms, savoring the extra minute of contact. Blessings upon the Creator for the intervention. Any more temptation from Cat and he'd not be able to control the need for his mate, despite the fact only two weeks had passed since her exhausting ordeal of birthing their son.
They could never regain the seven years of separation he had enforced upon them--through his own blind arrogance, he could now admit--but he intended to insure they were together every possible moment now and in the future. He carried her back to the bedroom, settled her on the sleeper. "I'll bring him."
Wulfe picked up the babe and delivered him to her, memorizing every detail of the miniature warrior. They would be apart all too soon. The eyes looking up at Wulfe echoed Cat's, a depthless amber he would always treasure.
He placed the tiny bundle in his mate's slender arms, where the babe immediately seemed bigger and sturdier. Already weighing nearly eight kilograms, he'd outgrow Cat's embrace soon at this rate. Garrett, named for the station blown to oblivion the night of his birth, latched onto his mother's breast with zeal and began to nurse with greedy little sounds of pleasure.
Cat favored son and father with a serene smile. "Nora is still amazed by how quiet Garrett is, especially when he's hungry. She expected him to scream at the top of his warrior lungs every chance he got." Cat arched her left eyebrow at Wulfe, eyes lit with mischief. "For some reason, Nora seems to think Bellon males are overly demanding. I can't imagine why she'd believe such nonsense. Can you?"
"No. The good doctor is quite obviously misinformed on the subject." Wulfe shed his breeches and settled next to Cat, lying on his right side, head propped in his hand to watch. She half-reclined against the jumble of pillows, the robe gone, her satiny bronzed skin bared to the waist with only a corner of the sheet draped over a portion of her sleek thighs.
As always, he appreciated the fact his mate preferred to rest and sleep unfettered by anything other than his arms or legs. "I explained to Albright about the survival instinct inbred into Bellon children; how over a millennium of time our babes have learned to cry out only when conditions are safe." Wulfe shook his head. "I don't think she believed me."
"Maybe not at first, but she's convinced now."
"Cat?"
"What, love?"
"I would have mourned the loss of this son for all time if he had died." Roughened by the battle between his heart and Bellon philosophy, the words sounded hoarse to his own ears. The ancient tenet insisted the child's life to be more precious than the mother's. Wulfe stroked Garrett's downy cheek with his little finger, deeply grateful for the Creator's blessings. "I wouldn't have survived my grief if I had lost you, my wife."
"Ah, love." Her emotion-filled amber gaze met his. With the lightest of touches, Cat placed the fingertips of her right hand against Wulfe's left temple. "Together, through all time, joined as one, stronger than we ever were alone. On my oath, we shall never be parted, my Lord. Nothing will ever separate us again."
Twenty minutes later when Garrett had filled his belly and fallen asleep, Cat got up to place the babe in his cradle. She came back, slipped into their bed and draped her bare leg over Wulfe's groin, rested her head on his shoulder.
The intimate contact only made Wulfe grow harder. He wrapped his arms around Cat, snugging her up against him as closely as he could. He caressed the soft skin of her shoulder, then decided he must distract himself. "You worked too hard today. I thought Albright ordered only half shifts for a while."
"I birthed Garrett over two weeks ago. I'm fine."
"I see. Does that mean I shouldn't bother massaging your poor, tired body with any more Erosian healing oil? Too bad, because I managed to find another vial."
"Wait a minute. I didn't say that."
"Didn't think so." Wulfe changed position slightly so he could see her face. "I keep telling myself you are recovered from your ordeal, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, I wake up and don't believe your recuperation is complete."
"After you've had the dream about me being gone."
"Not gone, dead, and you were, almost permanently."
"The key word is almost. Nothing as simple as childbirth will take me from your side. I was gone less than a minute. Never doubt Nora's ability, my husband." Cat twirled her fingers through his chest hair, slyly working her hand downward.
As if he wouldn't notice! Her mere tou
ch filled him with the heat of arousal. Wulfe covered her hand with his, completely engulfing the delicate fingers. He brought her hand to his mouth, pressed his lips, then the tip of his tongue to the palm, tasted her familiar sweetness. "Caution, my Lady, you are starting something I cannot allow you to finish."
"That's another thing. I should have final say, not Nora."
"Cat, we've been through this--"
"I want you," Cat whispered fiercely, moving her body against his, hot bare skin to hot bare skin.
Wulfe groaned, in genuine pain now. "No more than I want you. I will desire you until the day I draw my last breath."
Her silken skin seemed to flame hotter against his. Heat increased the sensual, exotic scent belonging only to Cat, a mixture of smoky Bellon sandalwood and Earther cinnamon. The thrill of pride went through him; only he could identify her body's natural perfume in this exact way. The scent often took him to the verge of forgetting his duties and risking his honor, right to the brink of insanity. He would have it no other way. "You will yet drive me mad with your wanton behavior."
"Then I must protect you from madness at all costs, my Lord." Cat freed her hand, glided her palm down over his belly, then stroked him even lower, her bold, knowing touch making him suck in a shuddering breath of aching anticipation.
He tried to still her suggestive, pleasure-inducing movements. "Not until Albright gives the okay. I won't take the risk of harming you. I fear I would, the way I hunger for you."
Cat drew one warm finger up the length of his manhood. "It wasn't my intention to make the situation, uh, harder for you."
"You shameless wench, you nargging well did." Wulfe rolled over, trapped her delicious body beneath him. "And to think there was a time, long ago, when I foolishly believed you'd be the one to break under the onslaught of my mating lust."
Cat's throaty laughter filled his heart. "Oh, you believed me to be that fragile? Do you mind so terribly being wrong?"
"No." His own chuckle joined with hers. "Because you'll be the one who must explain to Space Corps Command why the captain of the fleet's flagship is a drooling idiot with brains of mush and a rod of biranium in his trousers. Sleep now, because once the doctor gives you that medical release, I guarantee you won't sleep for a long time."
"I keep telling you--"
"No." Wulfe rolled to his side, bringing her with him. "If it had been any other type of injury, I wouldn't question your judgment or your ability to use your Erosian healing rhapsody. We need to be certain about this, especially if we ever intend to give Garrett a younger sibling."
"Promise you'll keep me from sleeping for at least a week."
"Oh, no, you're not getting off that easily." Wulfe brushed his lips across her forehead. "At least two weeks, no excuses."
"As my Lord wishes. But only because I wish it so, too."
"Sleep, now," Wulfe admonished, wanting to smile.
"First, a question."
"What?"
"Did I hear the communit a while ago?"
Wulfe groaned inwardly. He'd hoped to keep the news from her until she'd had at least a few hours sleep. He should have known better. "Aye, you did. Confirming our orders to Uhlein."
"Damn." Cat sat up. "The Falchion's to be refitted?"
"Aye. We should be there in under ten hours. As long as we're awake and talking about plans for the ship--"
"No." The single word held a serious note of warning.
"We can't ignore the situation with the children."
"I said no!" Cat scooted to the end of the bed, her voice carrying an edge that clearly told him the argument hadn't even begun. She slid to the deck and began a furious pacing at the foot of the bed. "Garrett and Morgan are staying here."
"I will not argue this matter any further with you."
"Good," she hissed back. "About bloody time you realized you are going to lose this argument anyway."
"You should have used cold water in that shower to douse that hot temper of yours." Wulfe resisted the self-protective urge to duck, but watched her reaction with a sharp eye. Fortunately, she wasn't within reach of anything lethal to throw.
Instead, she crossed her arms over her bare chest and glared at him before responding. "Cold water will not silence me, you barbarian. Always thinking you're right. Bear the brunt of my anger with honor--you're the cause."
"I am not the cause." Wulfe felt like pounding his fists against the nearest wall partition. From somewhere inside, he managed to find a level of patience he hadn't believed he possessed. "The children must be kept safe from the Mallochons."
"No one can keep Garrett as safe as I can. Morgan, either."
Wulfe watched her, admiring each graceful movement as she stalked back and forth. When Cat turned just right, he caught a glimpse of the dove-shaped birthmark soaring across her taut rib cage. The traditional, symbolic bonding chains wrapped around her waist and thighs gleamed in the dim light.
Every time she spun around, her calf-length red hair swirled and danced around her naked body, making her appear wild and wanton. The sight threatened to distract him from his objective. Worse, she knew his reaction and the reason all too well. They'd spent every possible moment since their reconciliation making up for the years lost, and he couldn't forget their greedy passion for one another.
"My son is barely fifteen days old! I will not send him away!"
Wulfe couldn't help but smile to himself. Seemed that only minutes ago, the time reference had been `over two weeks', but now, to suit her purpose, `barely fifteen days'. "Cat, we can't guarantee our son's safety here aboard the ship once we're engaged in battle, and you know battle with the Mallochon Imperium is inevitable. The only place he and Morgan will be protected is on Bellona. I realize you will miss them deeply. I will, too, more than I thought possible."
Perhaps he could keep her safe along with the children. "Do you wish to stay on the homeworld with the children?"
Cat stopped in midstride and stared at him. Color bleached from her face. "Leave you? Is that what you want?"
Some giant's fist slammed into his chest with those words. They'd been reconciled only months, and the thought of losing Cat yet again made him go hollow inside. "If that's what you think, why don't you reach into my mind and touch my thoughts?"
Cat simply glared at him in response, outrage narrowing her eyes and flushing her cheeks with dusky color again.
Wulfe swept his hands through the air. "I retract my question. I know you are too honorable to invade another's mind like that."
Cat inclined her head in bare acceptance of his words. "Do you want me to leave, Wulfe?"
"I'd prefer you didn't, but I will not impose my will upon you. This time. I would even be willing to listen to an alternative to Bellona, if you have one."
"Oh, that's mighty big of you. You won't impose your will--this time. Bah! You can be such a lurdin!" Cat snatched her robe, pulled the fabric around her, jerked the sash tight at her waist. "You do what you bloody well please. You will anyway. I have work to do."
Wulfe vented his frustration on the pillows. He punched them into shape until synthfill exploded from one of the cushions and rained down upon him and the bed. That woman would be the death of him yet!
Cat's racial heritage seemed designed solely to bedevil him. She'd inherited a maddening Syllogian logic and Earther perverseness from her father, Ambassador Aidan Culver. Wulfe settled against the few pillows left intact. He silently acknowledged the strength and sensuality she'd garnered from her mother, Dove Burnelle, who carried Bellon and Erosian blood.
He twisted to his right side, mumbled an oath of frustration into a cushion. Sleep would obviously be a rare commodity tonight. If he insisted Cat stay out of harm's way with the children on Bellona, he may as well wager his last credit she'd nargging lead the first wave of attack against the Mallochons. She'd do it simply to remind him she claimed Bellon blood. If Space Corps didn't catch up with her first and court-martial her for desertion.
Cat
almost lost her life during the Mallochon Uprising eight years earlier, and he didn't ever want to see that possibility repeated. Then only months ago, a Mallochon agent had come so close to murdering Cat the thought still sent adrenalin rushing through him. As if that hadn't been enough, next they'd discovered Morgan's birth mother, Danelle, had been murdered by a vengeful Mallochon who'd mistaken Danelle for Cat.
Wulfe flipped to the other side, his thoughts racing, heart thundering. Cat's position as a Free Agent in the League's elite Covert Ops had always been an area of contention between them, but she'd compounded the problem recently. Wulfe's old mentor, Admiral Roy Flemming, had been on the verge of retiring--until Cat recruited him to the secret organization of the Covert Corps. Two covert operatives to cope with made his life twice as complicated.
He glowered at the closed door. If Cat expected him to relent on this matter, she'd have a long wait. He found himself giving in to her sweet persuasion more times than not lately, but not on this. Absolutely not. The children must go. Now all he had to do was to come up with a feasible plan to keep Cat safe and immune to Space Corps prosecution.
CAT SHUT OFF the computer and rubbed her burning eyes. She could have accomplished twice the work in half the time under normal circumstances. The only consolation came in knowing Wulfe hadn't rested any more than she had over the last few hours. She'd sensed his emotions as they'd changed during the long night.
Bitter reality remained unchanged, though. They must send the children to a safe haven. She'd taken the Mother Oath with Danelle, pledging to care for Morgan as her own flesh and blood. With or without the Oath, she couldn't endanger the girl any more than she could willingly put Garrett in harm's way. They were targets here aboard the Falchion, pure and simple.
Garesh, how she hated the idea of admitting to Wulfe that she'd been wrong. Time to face the sonata. If she'd met Wulfe head-on all those years ago, instead of trying to salvage his Bellon honor by keeping the secret of the first babe's fatal deformity, they never would have had to endure seven years of separation, the rite of Abandonment.
Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3 Page 2
