She turned her face into his chest, nodded. Grief clogged her throat too thickly to allow words to pass.
Wulfe's arm tightened around her. "Ah, love, I grieve with you."
"And I with you. It's such a shock...both of them." Cat's voice broke, faded away as the last rally of her inner strength deserted her. "What if...what if Garrett and Morgan were with Cass?"
Air hissed into Wulfe's as if his teeth were clenched. "I will not believe that."
"I don't want to, but what if?" Panic ripped through her with painful brutality. "Up until now I've been hoping this has all been some crazy mixup and that the children were happily in Cass's care. Now...Sweet Creator, they could all have died together."
"No! Cass told Mother they weren't with her! We must now believe that message to be true."
"Yes, yes you're right." She reached out mentally, instinctively searched for a breach in the barrier between them. She sensed a stirring, a spark of life in the bond. Hope flared, but she lost sight of the tiny spark, too weak to infuse any strength into the link. Hope died within her, the barrier remained impregnable. Cat sagged against Wulfe.
Wulfe picked her up, carried her from the office, through the living are of his quarters and into the sleeping chamber they had shared. He placed Cat on the sleeper, knelt beside her, stroked her face with the barest touch of his fingertips.
"Wulfe, make me forget, just for a little while." Cat began a slow unfastening of his uniform, touching, exploring.
He reciprocated, touch for gentle touch, adored and worshiped her with subtle, sensual nuances while he removed her uniform. When they lay nude side by side, he lastly removed the double-tined copper hair pin, loosened the curls of her hair.
In direct counterpoint to the fiery, consuming and possessing unions so natural to them as Bellons, Wulfe made slow, achingly tender love to her. He muted their grief with loving caresses, hushed their sorrow with gentle words and honored their losses with deep, nectar-sweet kisses.
He took her to the heights so gently, so lovingly, Cat never realized they stood at the precipice until she plummeted over the edge. She took him with her in a soul-shattering cascade that bound them together with invisible, gossamer strands of rapture and devotion.
Stunned by the ability of her husband to unwittingly, unerringly recognize what she needed, touched by his willingness to please her so, she silently cherished him. Cat basked in the heat of Wulfe's body and spirit, the warmth of his emotions.
Only one emotion reigned supreme during their lovemaking. Pure love, untainted by doubts, resentments or jealousies.
For that time, he loved her without restraint, but already she could sense the distractions creeping into his aura. The call of duty. The uncertainty that had surrounded them since the bonding link had been damaged. Grief, new and raw. Frustration at not remembering. The unresolved loss of the children.
Keen disappointment lanced through her, further deepened by grief and frustration. Even after such a tender union, only her empathic ability reached Wulfe. The mental bond still refused her insistent call.
Wulfe stirred next to her, his hands soothing her as he spoke. "I don't want to leave, but I must return to the bridge."
"I know. I'll shower and--"
"No. Stay here and rest, if only for a short time. I'll grab a quick sonic shower and go up. Have you told any of our parents about Hawke and Cass?"
"No. I simply couldn't bear it...and thought...until we receive official confirmation..."
"I agree. Wait for the official notification."
"If the report is true, at least Hawke and Cass died together, as they wanted to live." Small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
Wulfe raised up, supported himself with his elbow to the mattress. Confusion radiated from him. "What do you mean?"
"Bonded to live as one, they died as one, if the reports are accurate. Now they're together for all eternity. They truly loved each other, enough to challenge the Tribunal."
"You mean to tell me the Bellon Tribunal really did set aside the old tradition for them?"
"Aye, for them, and the future of our world's unity and strength." Cat placed her palm to his cheek. "We have all sacrificed to that end, in one form or another."
"Then we will see that Cass and Hawke did not die in vain." He brushed his lips across her forehead before leaving the chamber.
WULFE MET WITH all the department heads except Cat. Other departments claimed bits and pieces of her rapidly dwindling sciences area. Science always lost out to pending war, unless the department encompassed a technology that served destruction. He found everything running smoothly and at peak efficiency, and expected nothing less.
Immediately after the briefing, Wulfe contacted everyone he could think of, in and out of Space Corps, but no one had news of the children, his brother or Cass. Cat still held out hope that Uhlein's security logs would help, but he'd already lost faith for that slim chance. No; whoever had taken the children had acted with careful thought, and had done some planning. Something he himself had to do now. They'd been searching blindly, reacting out of fear and panic. Time to make cold-blooded plans, use efficient methods.
Wulfe sat alone in a darkened corner of the wardroom to formulate his actions, facing the view port. The clear plazglass reflected the room behind him almost as well as a mirror. Positioned the way he was, he had a perfect view of Cat when she arrived.
Cat headed in his direction, but crew members, new and old, quickly claimed her attention. She sat with a group of personnel and soon became engrossed in the multiple conversations. Recent arrivals to the wardroom stopped by her table in small groups or singly. Cat gave each and every one of them some form of encouragement, either with words, gestures or tired smiles. Veterans or newbies, the crew members sought her out, looking for guidance, advice, instruction, or simply a moment of her time.
The whole thing irritated him beyond measure. His crew shouldn't depend so heavily on Cat. They should come to him. Not that he could ever be as much comfort to his crew.
Wulfe took a second, then a third survey of the wardroom in the reflection. His crew. Over seventy percent of the new crew members--and not just the flight teams--claimed Bellon blood to one degree or another. He realized that of the seasoned portion of the crew, not a single member remained that had ever questioned his right to captain the Falchion, challenged his authority, or taken a dim view of Bellons in general.
Bottom line: the troublemakers had been weeded out. Cat had overseen the transfer lists, but to what purpose?
How far had the hand of Covert Ops delved into the internal workings of his ship? A cold anger and antagonism coiled through him. He would owe no allegiance to the Covert Corps, not after the damage the organization had done to his union with Cat or his unborn son so many painful years ago.
He saw Mykal Lyon in the reflection, and his irritation rose in accordance with Lyon's proximity to Cat. Lyon stopped at her table with two ales and took an empty chair. Other crew members gradually faded away. Cat and the security chief talked together in quiet voices while they drank, each absorbed in what the other had to say. When Lyon escorted Cat from the wardroom, Wulfe clenched his teeth together so tightly his jaw ached.
The sight of Cat leaving with another man ignited pure Bellon rage within him, though he covered the reaction quite honorably. Or so he thought until crew members in his path scrambled to get out of his way as he stalked from the wardroom.
Cat linked arms with the man she'd come to think of as a brother. "I received the definite impression Wulfe wasn't in the mood to share his corner of the wardroom just now. I can't begin to tell you what your support has meant to me, Mykal. You've really outdone yourself."
Lyon covered her hand with his as they walked closer to their respective quarters. "I'm trying to make up for lost time, I guess."
"What do you mean?"
He grinned at her, a boyish flash. "I never had a sister to worry over until you. Never had one to give a hard time, ei
ther. I find I rather like the part of brother."
"It shows. You're very good. Mykal, I had no idea you'd get caught in the middle of something so complicated. You and Wulfe have been comrades for a long time."
"We still are. The captain has important things on his mind right now. The children, the Mallochons, his brother, your sister. His failure to remember everything. You."
"You're more generous than many would be in the same position, especially after he went off on you like that."
Lyon stopped in the middle of the corridor. "What do you mean? The captain's said a few things, but nothing that seemed out of line, considering the circumstances."
"Specifically, the incident in the gym. He should have known you'd never betray him. Wulfe was way out of line by attacking you."
"Attacking me?" Lyon laughed, shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. The captain's unexpected arrival broke up a, ah, minor altercation I had with Manahan."
"But I thought--"
"The captain may have had bodily harm on his mind, but he never got the chance. In fact, his arrival probably saved Manahan more broken bones; he already had several. Manahan didn't fly the next run because I confined him to quarters." Lyon continued walking, still tucking her hand against his arm.
"But Wulfe had blood on his hands."
"That was mine, all right. I was still standing--well, leaning against the bulkhead--when the captain came in. He tried to check me over for injuries and I bled on him for his trouble. About then, I think I slid down and met the deck."
The sinking sensation in her middle hit bottom with a pronounced thud. Cat twisted her lips in a grimace. She realized relief figured in there somewhere; she'd had a hard time accepting what she'd thought she'd seen. "Oh, gods. I really gave Wulfe an earful about how to treat a loyal friend."
"Ouch. That could explain part of his reaction to me."
"It didn't help, that's for sure," Cat agreed.
Lyon stopped in front of Cat's quarters. "Are you going to be able to rest now?"
Cat considered giving Mykal glib little assurances, but his genuine concern radiated from him like a glowlamp, and she was so heartily sick of deception. "Probably not. I'm still waiting to hear from Uhlein's commander about the security logs. Seems to be taking forever. The uncertainty about the children and Fallon drives away even the thought of sleep or rest. And now the news about Cass and Hawke."
"Maybe I should contact Uhlein's security chief, hustle things along a bit from the station."
"They're short-staffed. With the personnel shuffle that's been going on recently, I'm amazed one hand knows what the other one is doing."
"True enough, I suppose, though a nudge won't hurt. If you can't settle, let me know. I'll run a series of practice sessions with you."
Cat sensed Wulfe's approach. She couldn't identify what angered him so, but his rage, hot and volatile, scorched her. Better to get Mykal out of the line of fire. She went up on tiptoe, gave him a quick kiss along his jaw and whispered, "Goodnight, my brother."
Cat slipped into the privacy of her rooms. Once inside, she laid her forehead against the cool door panel, flimsy barricade that it was against the storm raging on the other side. What she wouldn't give to be able to walk into the middle of that storm and lose herself within its depths. If she allowed her control to slip, she could slide into madness. If she let her guard down too far, Wulfe could end up paying the price for her selfishness. Oh, but she'd give anything but the children and Wulfe's well-being to lose herself in Wulfe's arms right now.
The intensity of Wulfe's emotions faded. A combination of distance on Wulfe's part and her own increased mental shielding, Cat figured. She knew her husband well enough to realize either he walked the ship in an effort to distract himself or sought relief in one of the exercise rooms. He'd always had trouble sleeping without her next to him, and she'd wager on the ship tour.
Bloody wonderful. Wulfe hadn't attacked Lyon, hadn't even touched him. Grateful for that blessing, she now had to come up with a way to make amends without saying `I'm sorry' to Wulfe. Could be a tricky endeavor. Bellons never said those words, or `please', nor did they accept them. The words did not exist in Bellonese.
Cat sat at the desk trying to come up with a workable solution. She picked up her journal, bit her bottom lip, turned the book over and over. Wondering exactly when Morgan had taken the wulfenite, she hoped the crystal made Morgan feel safe, wherever the girl might be. Her throat tightened at the thought she had no idea where her children were. Frustrated helplessness twisted her stomach into painful knots.
Cat slammed the journal on the desk without opening the pages of the book, and hung her head.
Something on the floor near the base of the desk glinted in the light. She reached for the sparkle, found Wulfe's broken necklace. Cat jingled the pieces of fine chain from one palm to another, considered the possibilities. Maybe, if she repaired the broken links of gold before she returned the necklace, and then told Wulfe she knew what happened to Lyon, the rift between them could be mended. Then again, maybe not.
AN INVISIBLE weapon knifed through Wulfe's heart when Cat kissed Lyon. Aye, he'd suspected, but had never seen the proof until now. Garesh, but truth could be a painful instrument of torture. He pivoted away from the sight. His hasty steps took him to the deepest levels of the ship as he tried to outstride the sense of betrayal.
Two complete circuits of the Falchion, more than two standard hours of time, failed to temper his mood. Wulfe entered the officers' gym, fully expecting to find the room deserted. Instead, he saw Cat and Mykal Lyon defending themselves in an exercise session. The intricacy of the exercise drew Wulfe to watch. His breathing deepened, quickened.
Cat parried each thrust, her movements sure, smooth, sensual, as only his mate could make them, as she defended against her opponent. She went on the offensive, drove Lyon back. Lyon broke a sweat keeping Cat at bay. She sidestepped a forceful lunge from him, her body twisting seductively.
Heat rose in Wulfe's body, the muscles in his groin tightened. The tempo of his breathing changed to match the rhythm of Cat's lungs. He found himself thinking of Cat using that sinewy aggression in bed. Now. He must have her.
Wulfe saw the calculating gleam in her eye. She gauged Lyon's reaction time and focused her strength into her next backstroke.
Lyon's blade flew out of his hand as he grunted in surprise. "Bravo. I'd be a dead enemy." He retrieved his falchion. "Your lack of practice the last couple of months hasn't been detrimental. You are still very good."
Wulfe had to agree. Cat's work with the blade remained stunningly outstanding. "It would appear, Lieutenant, that you need the practice more than my first officer does."
Wulfe moved close enough to allow Cat's spicy, erotic scent to reach him. Hot and seductive, her body's perfume worked the usual sorcery on him.
"The element of surprise can be highly effective," Cat said easily. She turned her attention to inspecting the honed edge of her blade.
But not before Wulfe saw the flush staining her regal cheeks, the look of hunger in her expression, or the smoky heat of arousal in her dark amber eyes. The knife twisted in his heart. Did her desire focus on her battle partner, Lyon, or for her mate? Could he accept the answer when he found the truth?
Cat glanced in Lyon's direction. The security chief reacted immediately, as if capable of discerning her wishes. Wulfe wanted to turn away from the sight. He and Cat had once been able to feel what the other needed, but now...had their link been supplanted by one between Cat and Mykal Lyon? The knife twisted still deeper into his heart and managed to nick his soul.
Lyon saluted both of them with his falchion. "I'll get on that repair schedule for the fighters as we discussed, Commander," he said briskly before leaving the gym.
"Wulfe--"
Wulfe sliced his hand through the air, silencing her. "I need an honest answer from you. Now. Did you purposely end the mental link between us because I Abandoned you?"
Surp
rise filled her amber eyes. Cat took hold of his hand and squeezed. "I would never intentionally do anything harmful to our bond." She turned his hand until his palm faced upward, let the gold links of his necklace flow like liquid gold. "If only I could repair our bond as easily as I did the broken links of the chain."
The vicious knife that had been tormenting him withdrew, the wounds began to close. "Do you speak the truth?"
"Would I have bothered mending the chain otherwise? We are stronger together, my Lord, as we stated in our vows. Combining our forces will bring the children home to us sooner."
Wulfe tipped his hand over hers, poured the necklace into her palm. "Then perhaps you should put the chain where it belongs." He picked her up, held her so they looked eye to eye and Cat could clasp the chain around his neck. "I await--"
Lyon charged his way into the gym. "Captain! Commander! We have problems!"
Cat, almost dropping the chain, slid from Wulfe's hold and spun to face the interruption.
Wulfe groaned, then muttered, "More than you know, Lyon. What is it?"
"The pilots that didn't fight the Mallochon ship have been flying patrol in three groups of three, as we discussed. One of the flight squads didn't return. We can't raise them on any frequency. All three are gone without a trace."
Chapter 16
CAT WATCHED Mykal Lyon, Blackwood and Cervantes, each heading a flight squad, prep themselves for immediate launch. Wulfe's plan for them to go and her to stay made perfect sense, but that didn't make her feel any better. Against her inner voice warning her differently, she'd bowed to Wulfe's orders, but not being in control made her bloody twitchy. Doing something to find the missing pilots would go a long way toward making her feel better. After all, they were her responsibility.
Just as she'd been responsible for putting the children in the predicament they were in now. If she'd kept them with her, or defied Corps protocol and gone with them herself, they'd be safe, not Creator knew where in the universe.
Cat took a deep breath, forced herself to think with cold Syllogian logic. Hard to do when her mind and emotions grew more turbulent with every passing moment. An hysterical question flashed through her mind: Any chance Wheeler had left a vial of Endorphidrine behind? Cat shook that thought out of her head. The drug might ease her symptoms for a while, but in the end, she'd still plunge into madness.
Devoted Deceptions, A 4th Millennium Adventure, Book 3 Page 22
