Wulfe ducked under the graceful, weeping branches, settled on the ground next to her. He picked up a fallen twig, rolled the stem in the fingers of his right hand before putting the length in his mouth. "I've faced this kind of situation before. Losing someone under your command can be tough."
Cat's stomach tensed. Why he didn't use a sarcastic tone to drive the words home? He had every right, considering her culpability. "Especially when the death is avoidable, right?"
"That's true." Wulfe chewed on the twig for a moment as though considering her words, then shook his head. "In this case, I'd say Xiang's death was more like inevitable."
Meaning her lack of leadership caused the inevitable conclusion? Cat raised her head and frowned at him while a renewed sickness rolled through her stomach. Wulfe's emotions were such an incredible morass of conflicting feelings--duty, resentment, desire--she couldn't get a true sense of his intentions. Somehow, she doubted if he even knew what he meant to do. She tightened down the edges of her mental barriers to block out Wulfe's emotions. She had enough problems of her own right now. "You believe my actions to be that incompetent?"
"No. Cat, you couldn't have kept Xiang alive even if you tried to keep him permanently grounded by confining him to quarters. You were right. He was a flasher. A flasher with delusions of invincibility and immortality. It's a blessing from the Creator he didn't take you--or any more than his fellow copilot--with him. Xiang forged the technical clearance and the preflight check."
"Bloody hell." Cat pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "Why didn't I double-check like you said? I should have done something--gods, anything--differently."
"Stop right there. You were his instructor, not his caretaker. Short of knocking him over the head and dragging him off to the brig, what would you have done to change the outcome?"
What, indeed? She doubted she'd ever really find a satisfying answer. Her guilt couldn't bring back Xiang and his copilot. Even if she managed to vindicate herself in Wulfe's eyes, the pilots were dead. "I'm still responsible."
"As am I."
She took her hands away and frowned at him. "How?"
"Ever hear about a little thing called chain of command?"
"Ridiculous. You couldn't have foreseen this."
"And you could have?" Wulfe gave her a half-smile that lifted one side of his dark moustache. "Even you aren't that powerful."
Cat laid her cheek back on her knees, feeling completely lost now. "Yes. Maybe. Quit using my own words against me." She'd had a presentiment of something being wrong on the flight deck before they'd launched, but she'd put the feeling down to Wulfe's presence. "Oh, I don't know."
"Precisely." Wulfe reached for her, pulled her up snug against his chest. "In only days, mere hours, really, you've taken roughly-trained pilots and turned them into a remarkable squadron. This group of yours will set the pace for all the new squadrons coming from the Corps over the next few weeks."
This group of hers?
"You've done one Underworld of a job, Cat."
"Careful. You're getting perilously close to sounding proud of me." Her insides warmed at his unexpectedly generous words. Flame seemed to leap between them wherever their bodies touched. Want and need and love seethed through her, trying to steal her powers of speech and reason. "I'd watch it, if I were you."
"I won't tell anyone if you won't." Wulfe rubbed her shoulder and upper back, the motion brisk and impersonal.
Unable to save herself the heartache, Cat reached out mentally, gently searched for any indication the bonding link had been sparked back to life. The stark, unrelieved blankness she encountered made her think of embracing elusive shadows. Aching inside with disappointment, she eased away from Wulfe. To be so near him and not be able to....
He stopped her withdrawal. The movement of his hand slowed to become exploring and personal. Wulfe unfastened the copper and bronze clasps holding the ends of her braid. He worked his strong fingers up the plait so gently, loosening the strands of hair as he went. He reached her scalp, where he massaged with light, slow pressure. "I came down on you far too hard before I knew all the facts. And I'm not talking just about Xiang."
"I'm not arguing with you." What more did he mean? Cat leaned her head into the leisurely movements of his hand, hid her smile against his shoulder. She accepted the comfort he offered, hoarded the heat his touch generated in her.
Wulfe let out a small rumble of amusement. "You could at least give the illusion you're giving me the benefit of the doubt."
"Maybe, once the favor's been returned," she countered pointedly, knowing she couldn't offer complete capitulation. Any significant chink in her personal armor would only weaken her ability to protect her husband from the truth.
Wulfe winced inwardly. He'd had that one coming. Then he wondered if her comeback went deeper than today's tragedy. Could he have been wrong about why she'd endangered his son? If only that were true--what a sense of freedom such a discovery would impart.
Cat's subtle, erotic scent--too long absent from his life--whispered to him, spiriting away in sly little increments his ability to rationalize. For an hour, maybe two, he wanted to think of nothing but his ma'ten, the gentle brush of her mind to his, the physical, sensual binding of man to mate. Their physical union a few hours ago, rather than satisfy, had only whetted his appetite for more of her, the same way he'd felt that first year before she'd lost the babe.
"Cat, I haven't once felt your mindtouch." He flicked the twig away. Wulfe waited for her reaction, unable to tell her how much he missed that part of their union, too.
She didn't exactly stiffen next to him, but he felt a tightening in her body and her breath hitched, as if she'd become wary.
"No, you haven't. Our bond doesn't--isn't--"
"You haven't severed the connection?" The universe around him seemed to come to a stop. Did that, rather than amnesia, explain the ever-increasing sense of disorientation and isolation he experienced? "Well, have you?"
"I--I'm not certain. Maybe the link has gone dormant."
Maybe? Wulfe lay back in the grass, taking her with him, driven by determination. "Then let's revive the Underworld out of it."
He cut off Cat's protest by claiming her sweet lips. She resisted at first, not adamantly, but almost reluctantly. Little by little, he laid siege to her mouth, increased his level of persuasion until she became a willing, eager participant.
With a leap of faith, Cat threw caution along the wayside and opted for hope--and selfishness. Wulfe's exploration set her body to new heights of craving, as if months instead of hours had passed since they'd joined. His renewed desire set her heart free to believe again. She gave herself over to the glorious magic she always found in Wulfe's arms. Cat reveled in his touch, familiar and fire-hot. She gloried in his kisses, extravagant and untamed.
Her mouth mated to his so perfectly, tasted the familiar passion wine-flavor of him. Delicious shivers coursed through her. Wulfe feverishly worked the fastenings open on her flight suit, slipped his big warm hand in inside. She arched into his touch. He cupped her breast, rolled the nipple between his fingers, then nipped at it with his teeth. A moan caught deep in her throat.
Reaction thrummed along nerve endings, rushed to her very core, collected and formed a hot, liquid heat that demanded release. Desire and need. So intertwined that each drove the other, as they had before Garrett's birth and in the days following her recovery.
Garrett! She evaded Wulfe's mouth, squirmed out of his grasp. She closed her flight suit with hurried movements. Cat cursed herself as a fool for allowing even something as awful as the pilots' deaths to drive thoughts of the children from her mind.
"Cat? Did I hurt--?"
"The message. A transmission came in from Bellona for me. I have to retrieve the message."
"About the children's arrival? Did Cass get them there?"
His questions startled her. Halfway to her feet, Cat slipped, landed awkwardly on her knees. "What? You know Cass took the ch
ildren?"
Wulfe steadied her--or held her at bay--she wasn't sure which. Smart move on his part. She could cheerfully strangle him right now for keeping the knowledge a secret.
"I'm not a complete idiot, Cat."
"Depends on your interpretation! Release me! You've known all along, you dishonorable barbarian! You--you--argh!--Bellon!"
Wulfe only gripped her arm tighter. "I'm the one without honor? Stop right there. I'm the injured party here."
"You?" She tried to break his grip, accomplished nothing.
"You've been glibly passing off some other man's get as mine."
"Garesh take you! If you're so convinced I've dishonored the House of Kincade, why would you even try to take me to your bed?"
"I am still your Lord."
"But not my master! Argh! You are the most maddening, stubborn, unreasonable--why am I bothering? You're a Bellon, plain and simple!"
"And I don't plan on changing any time soon!"
"Big surprise there!" It seemed no matter what she said or did, she managed to antagonize Wulfe to the point of explosion. This time, she'd met the pain and anger head-on and won the confrontation, if only temporarily. "Get your bloody hands off me."
His emotions welled over her like hot rain. Resentment. Grief. The depth of his loss cut through her very heart, the keenness of the pain taking her breath. Still on her knees, she placed her palms to Wulfe's cheeks. With him sitting, their eyes met on the same level. "Will you ever truly learn that false Bellon pride should be left on Bellona?"
Puzzlement and skepticism filled his dark eyes, radiated from him, along with a sense that he searched for something.
Cat moved her hands to his shoulders and pushed herself to her feet, tired of arguing, tired of secrets, just plain tired. "Forget it. Wulfe, if you truly believe I'd take another into my bed, you don't know me at all; you never have." She brushed her fingertips to his temple. "How well do you know yourself?"
Long after Cat left the arboretum, Wulfe sat within the umbrella tree grove. He'd like to forget a lot of things, like seeing Cat in the infirmary bed when she'd lost the first babe.
He grimaced, taken by surprise when another memory-- rediscovered this very second--rushed in to fill a dark corner of the past. An argument with Cat, the day she first heard about the Mallochon Uprising on Wikkerd. The first time she'd informed him he wasn't her master. Barely two months pregnant, she immediately informed him that Covert Operations expected her to help the League troops. He forbade her to leave while she carried his son--as was his right--and, Cat being Cat, she promptly packed a flight bag and departed for Wikkerd.
The next invading memory flashed on the heels of the first and turned his insides deep-space cold. Eleven days after Cat left, he received the transmission he'd been dreading. His mate lay near death. Once he reached the outpost infirmary, the medical team informed him she might live, with dedicated care beyond what a field hospital could provide.
So he made arrangements for her transfer to an Erosian healing center. He took back the length of bonding chain intended to accommodate her growing belly and refastened the length around his own neck and left before they transferred her.
The babe she'd carried hadn't had a chance of survival. She might as well have killed his son with her own hands. He couldn't find the capacity to forgive her betrayal. Bellon females were expected to put the life of a child above their own.
Almost eight years now.
A wave of fresh anger struck, hard and vicious. Anger toward himself because some inner portion wanted to forgive her, narg it. To do so would only increase the dishonor already visited upon his House by Cat's deceptions. He might even consider deviating from Bellon custom if Cat would simply demonstrate one iota of remorse, or even acknowledge she'd been wrong to endanger his son.
According to Bellon law and tradition, he'd been well within his right to Abandon her. A century earlier, her own life would have been forfeit. After all, honor must be maintained.
Except honor sure as narg made a cold companion at night.
Wulfe lay back in the grass under the umbrella trees, his body aching and on fire for the woman he'd forced from his life. Even if he set aside his honor and pride, the chances of Cat returning to his life after he'd Abandoned her were about one in one-thousand. They had a better chance of being blown to Creation and back by the Mallochons. A shiver of deja vu moved through him. The words sounded so familiar.
Still, Cat was here, though he had yet to discover if her presence signified duty to Covert, duty to Space Corps, or because she wanted to be with him.
Cat's opinion of him couldn't be very high. She'd even believed he'd tried to take Mykal Lyon apart without giving the security chief a chance to defend himself. She must be here as a function of her Covert status.
Wulfe squinted through the branches of the tree to the projected image of the sky overhead. Of course, if Lyon hadn't already taken the brunt of a dishonorable attack, Cat's conjecture could easily have become reality.
Aye, and what about Lyon? If the security officer hadn't sired the boy, who had? Wulfe slammed his fist into the moss-covered ground, faced the truth. He had, of course. He knew Cat well enough to realize she'd not accept another man while bonded to him. He simply didn't want to admit the fact because that would mean he couldn't remember his own son, or some very important parts of his life.
Bah! How could he be the father to those two--for surely Morgan figured into this--and not remember? Wulfe sucked in a breath. Morgan reminded him of Hawke, looked enough like a natural Kincade to convince even the most hardheaded.
Wulfe shifted position again, incapable of remaining still. Restlessness built in him. Wouldn't be long before he'd need physical release of some kind. Trapped by the genetic engineering of the old Earthers, he, like all Bellons, instinctively reacted to stress, grief, or other harsh emotions by seeking catharsis through brute physical force.
Of course, back then, the thought had been to make them more aggressive in battle, more willing to blindly fight to the death for their Earther designers. Gareshian and his fellow genetic scientists had created the ultimate warrior, or so they believed, until the biological war machines of their fantasies had learned to think, fight, create and procreate for themselves.
The group of scientists responsible for bioengineering the thought readers and mind benders--the psi-talented, long since vanished-- thought they had those creations under control, too, right along with the warriors, until it was too late.
By then, the warriors and psi talents had overcome their mutual distrust and formed a loose association that allowed them to break free of their designers, to break free of Earth, and to go separate ways. The warriors found Bellona. No one ever saw the psi talents again.
Then a few short generations ago, the Bellon Aggression against Earth forced the Earthers to acknowledge their sins of the past and to make reparations to Bellona.
The people of Bellona made certain that the coldest of mistresses and companions, her name Honor, had been satisfied.
Not unlike what he tried to do now in his own life. A satisfied sense of honor would leave him a cold, empty bed. Aye, but he could hold his head high while he mourned the loss of everything else dear to him. How well did he know himself?
Chapter 14
CAT SAT OPEN-MOUTHED at the desk in her quarters, numbed by shock and expanding disbelief. She must have heard wrong. Or Lady Kestrel Kincade had somehow gotten the incorrect information. Some fool had made a terrible mistake. Blessed Creator, if not....
"Computer, cue last message." Fingers shaking, Cat fumbled incompetently at the fastenings down the front of her vest. She'd been pulling on the leather garment when the message began the first time through. She squinted at the comm screen as Kestrel, Wulfe's mother, appeared frozen in time. Cat had to clear her throat. "Play."
`Hello, Daughter Cat. I simply wanted you to know how we had looked forward to seeing our grandchildren for the first time. When Raptor and I r
eceived word of your revision in plans, we were disappointed, but understand your desire to keep the children with you. Raptor and I both sincerely hope when the Mallochon affair is behind us, all four of you will come to visit. If we're blessed, perhaps Hawke and Cass can visit at the same time. Give Wulfe our greetings. We rejoice that he has recovered. May the Creator be with all of you in these trying times. In the meantime, if your schedule undergoes another change, we will welcome the children with open arms.'
No. She'd heard correctly. Goose bumps rippled over Cat's skin. The icy dread of terror trickled down her spine. Panic followed on swift nerve-shredding claws. The children weren't on Bellona. The children weren't with Cass. The children weren't here. Where were they?
"C-computer, open a secured channel to Bellona, K-kincade c-compound, immediately." Her teeth chattered so hard she could barely issue the order. "K-kestrel or Raptor Kincade."
Complying.
Each passing second loomed as an eternity without mercy, filled only with the deepest dread, the darkest horror.
`Cat, how wonderful to speak with you in person.'
"Lady Kincade, I must know the meaning behind your message. If Garrett and Morgan aren't with you on Bellona, where are they? Where did Cass take them?"
Kestrel's regal face went slack with shock. `But Cass sent us a message before she and Hawke left for the Devil's Graveyard. The message clearly stated that Wulfe had completely recovered from his injuries and had decided to keep the children aboard the Falchion. He sent the message to Cass. At least, that's what her transmission said.'
"No, no," the words came out as a moan. Cat's throat locked around the unfamiliar sensation of a building sob. Wulfe had decided? "Garrett and Morgan left these very quarters with Fallon to board Cass's ship. Cass vowed to keep them safe, to take them to you! Fallon promised me she'd watch over them! Sweet Creator, what's happened to my children? How long ago did you talk to Cass?"
Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3 Page 19
