Alien Redemption [Clans of Kalquor 06] (3 page)

Rachel sighed again. She almost felt safe. She thought she could shelter in Conyod’s arms forever.

* * * *

Dramok Erybet fumed, though he kept his expression still as he walked down the well-lit hallway of the hospital’s Matara psychiatric wing. Damn Conyod. Of all the times for his Imdiko to work late, he had to pick this evening. Which led to another thought: was Conyod being difficult on purpose? Just to get back at Erybet for his silence, a silence he was under orders to keep?

The clan’s Nobek strode silently at Erybet’s side, his soft-soled feet making no sound even as Erybet stomped echoingly, the one betrayal of his anger. Sletran’s face was as stoic as the Dramok kept his. But Sletran rarely looked any other way these days. Even when the strong-featured Nobek had been caught hacking his hair off with a knife, driving Conyod into near hysterics, the look on his face had been pure indifference. Erybet had no doubt that the Nobek’s impromptu haircut was a sign of a growing storm of self-destructiveness. But the chilling lack of discernible emotion from his clanmate kept anyone from knowing when Sletran would perform an act of self-inflicted harm or when he’d pull one of his many disappearances.

In contrast to Erybet’s finer, almost pretty features, Sletran’s face was made of broad planes, strongly cut bone, somehow balanced with shockingly sensual lips. The Nobek was handsome in an almost brutal way. And his hair was growing out again, now nearly chin-length. However strained his emotional state may be, Sletran was a striking man, one that made the Mataras stop and stare. Well-muscled without being ponderous, he would no doubt impress the Earther woman they were meeting tonight.

If he would come out of his funk long enough to try. And if Conyod didn’t fuck everything up by making them late for their date.

It was their third attempt to attract a female mate. A third hope for Erybet that having a woman to devote themselves to, to protect, to care for, would at last fix his broken clan.

He could understand Sletran’s difficulty in reaching out. The man was still in shock from the war. No, not the war; that was not where his clanmate’s difficulties had sprung. True, the fighting had been terrible while they were in the thick of it. But it was what came after, when Earth had fallen and all that was left to do was clean up the aftermath. That was when hell had truly begun.

Conyod, however, was simply being stubborn. He refused to see that with his clanmates bound to secrecy by their superiors, the answer was a new start. A fresh start a Matara could bring. Yet he kept dragging his feet when it came to attracting one, even though their chances were beginning to fade.

It was pure chance for any clan to come up on the lottery, the system that allowed them the opportunity to add a childbearer to their group. Kalquorian women were rare; fertile ones of childbearing age almost nonexistent. Few Earther women from the nearly annihilated race were willing to choose Kalquorians over their own kind. It took a lot of luck to get to impress one.

And the lottery only allowed a clan five chances to do so before the opportunity passed them by.

If his Imdiko would just cooperate!

The sound of sobbing distracted Erybet from his angry thoughts. An orderly escorting a young, crying woman came down the hall, heading in their direction. The medic had an arm around the Matara’s thin, shaking shoulders and he whispered gently to her as they walked. Her gaze was locked on Erybet and Sletran, and she began to resist coming closer to them.

Erybet realized he had clenched his fists at his sides, showing his upset over his ruminations.

He quickly released the tension in his body and slowed his progress, approaching the pair carefully. He gave his gentlest smile to the poor little blonde, whose black-hollowed eyes gave her frightened face the visage of a skull.

He didn’t often visit Conyod at his work. Seeing the damaged Mataras from Earth, the ones who’d endured so much trauma that they couldn’t join the lottery or be sent to the scattered Earther colonies, was hard. Looking into haunted eyes of such fragile creatures made him hurt.

Better than seeing them ripped apart physically
, his mind whispered
. Like the ones at New
Bethlehem after you gave the order…

Erybet’s mind skittered from the memory. He would not think about that. Would not.

Now the young woman was trying to hide behind the orderly. He continued to whisper gently to her, but she wanted to be nowhere near the unfamiliar Kalquorians. The orderly smiled apologetically at Erybet and Sletran, shrugging a little. “It’s all right, Matara. No one wants to hurt you.”

Erybet glanced at Sletran. His Nobek had emerged from his emotionless state to look stricken. Erybet hoped it was only because seeing a crying woman was so awful, and not because Sletran was remembering New Bethlehem too.

Not daring to look at his clanmate for too long lest Sletran take the attention the wrong way, Erybet stepped close, but not too close, to the orderly and his patient. Sletran stayed by his side.

They bowed deeply to the frightened Matara.

Taking his cue from the orderly’s whispering, Erybet very quietly said, “Good evening, Matara. Please accept my apologies if our appearance frightens you. I hope you have a pleasant night.”

For a wonder, Sletran also spoke. His voice was soothing in its deep tones. “I too apologize for having upset you, Matara. We will be on our way and distress you no more.”

She abruptly stopped crying, her eyes wide and wondering as she looked at them. The orderly chuckled. “See? There’s no one to be afraid of here.”

He nodded to Erybet and Sletran, ushering the woman past them. She cast nervous but much calmer looks at them over her shoulder as she went.

Erybet and Sletran continued on their way. The Dramok had wanted to ask if the orderly had seen Conyod, but the woman’s obvious fear had kept him from doing so. Fortunately, he saw another orderly escorting a hover cart down the hall, stopping at each patient’s room to access the closed doors and drop off a meal.

They drew abreast of the broadshouldered Imdiko. Erybet kept his voice low, not sure how well sound carried from the hall to the patients’ rooms. “Excuse me, but I’m looking for Dr.

Conyod. He’s not in his office and I need to see him right away.”

The orderly jerked his head back in the direction from which they’d come. “He’s probably in Matara Rachel’s room. He usually checks in with her one last time before leaving for the night. Room 786, right over there.”

Erybet nodded. “Thank you. Come on, Sletran. Let’s round up our Imdiko and see if we can salvage this night.”

As they headed back, Erybet went back to seething at his unthinking clanmate.
For making
us late to have dinner with a potential Matara, this Matara Rachel had better be in a bad way.

Immediate horror followed the thought. He did not want any female to be suffering. The Earther women had endured enough from all that had happened to them. Most of them had been on Earth when the nuclear blasts had happened, making the planet uninhabitable. Before that, they’d been second class citizens among their own kind, kept subservient because of a religion that saw them as inherently sinful.

And women on the colonies hadn’t fared much better, had they? Erybet’s stomach curled in on itself as he remembered body parts scattered around a blackened blast site.

He had returned to Kalquor, but Erybet knew he would never truly escape New Bethlehem.

Yet another headache pulsed behind Erybet’s eyes as he and Sletran neared the room where Conyod might be hiding, once more avoiding them as long as he possibly could.

* * * *

Rachel had managed to move Conyod from cuddling to kissing. Knowing he had feelings for her, she was eager to press her advantage.

Now that she had him going, there was nothing tentative about her doctor’s embrace. He held her close, his mouth firm, even demanding, as he tasted her. His tongue stroked hers, and she moaned in his mouth. The delicious way he kissed her had her senses rioting. Maybe she was wrong for insisting he break the rules, but damn it, she needed this. She grew needier by the second.

Rachel moved against Conyod, passion insistent. He made a sound deep in his throat, something very much like a growl. Despite their intelligence, she knew the Kalquorians possessed a primal core, and that suited her fine. The threat of feral reaction excited her.

As Rachel readied to make her next move, a knock sounded at the door. Conyod tore his mouth from hers with a gasp. He looked at her and laughed shakily.

“Your dinner has arrived, I suppose.”

Conyod stood, holding her in his arms. He set her on her feet. Rachel fought not to pout like a three-year old. But damn it, she’d been enjoying him so much!

Conyod went to the door, his face still flushed. “Enter,” he commanded, and it slid open.

His jaw dropped in shock as he looked into the hall. “My Dramok, my Nobek. What are you doing here?”

A low, angry voice answered him. “I could ask the same of you. We have an appointment in five minutes, an important one. Why have you not come home?”

Conyod shot a glance at Rachel and swallowed. She stared. He looked absolutely miserable now. “I – I guess I fell behind on my rounds. My father Vel stopped by for a visit today, so I’m playing catch-up.”

Rachel had to see the clanmates who had put that expression on Conyod’s face. She stepped to his side and stared at the two men outside her room.

They couldn’t have been a more dissimilar pair physically. The slightly taller and more muscular of the two shouldn’t have been handsome, not with that heavy brow, wide forehead, and strong jaw. Each individual feature was simply too rough and unrefined for attractiveness.

Well, except for his lips. His lips were plump, sensual things that made Rachel not want to kiss so much as nibble. Somehow the entire package worked for him. He was striking, worth a long, slow look.

He also wore his hair much shorter than any Kalquorian man she’d seen. As he looked back at her, his set expression shifted to something dark. Was it pain? Anger? Probably both since Rachel had seen the look on her own face. Suddenly she knew something else: he’d cut off his own hair in a self-destructive rage, much as she had done to hers over and over. She’d finally quit attacking her curls after all cutting implements had been removed from her room, but her hair had been kept shorn close to her skull at her insistence. She told herself it was because the look suited her and shied away from any other reasons.

Looking at this man, she knew better. For whatever reason, he had wanted to punish himself. Just as she had. Just as she sometimes still did.

It was hard to look away from the amazing, distressing sight of this man to look at the other.

After only a few moments, Rachel managed. The second man, though not quite as tall as his companion, still had at least six inches on Conyod. His features were much more delicate than those of either of his clanmates. He was almost pretty but somehow managed blatant masculinity at the same time. His sculpted jaw was strong, his cheekbones well-formed, his nose as straight as an arrow. The grim set of his mouth was the only negative note on a gorgeous face framed by long, wavy hair. His build was the slenderest of the three, but there was no denying the aura of command that surrounded him. This one would be Conyod’s Dramok, Rachel decided.

The two men bowed deeply to her, their gazes never leaving her face. The pretty Kalquorian spoke, his voice the same as the one she’d heard speak to Conyod. At least the anger had disappeared. “Hello, Matara.”

They straightened, and the other man also spoke up, a smile hinting at those delicious lips but not quite bursting forth. “No wonder you spend so much time at work, Conyod.”

His voice was deliciously deep, and Rachel shivered. A stray fantasy of hearing him order her to disrobe and lie down before him made her lick her lips. Good heavens, she was horny.

The Nobek’s statement took some of the angst from Conyod’s expression. “Matara Rachel, these are my clanmates. Dramok Erybet and Nobek Sletran.”

The men bowed again.
Rise, my subjects
, Rachel thought and couldn’t help but smile.

Respectful gentlemen. How nice.

“
Retig
,” she rasped. The magic word that had gotten her in Conyod’s arms. Her favorite word in the universe right now.

Erybet gave her a surprised but delighted smile. “You speak Kalquorian?”

Rachel showed him how little by holding her hand up and indicating with a bare inch between her thumb and index finger. That elicited chuckles from all the men, even the Nobek.

Erybet and Conyod looked at him with surprise.

Conyod wiped the wide-eyed expression from his face. He asked her, “May I explain?”

If he trusted them, she could too. She nodded her assent.

With pride, but for her accomplishment and not his own, Conyod told the other men,

“Rachel has had a huge breakthrough, just minutes ago in fact. Her vocal chords were badly damaged when she was brought to Kalquor, which surgery corrected. However, the trauma she endured after being interrogated on Earth by the authorities left her psychologically incapable of speaking. She’s found a way around that by learning to say a few words in Kalquorian.”

Erybet’s brows drew together. “A fascinating solution to what I am sure has been a great obstacle. I’m very sorry to hear of your trials, Matara.”

He sounded sincere, not at all as if he was delivering an expected statement. Rachel warmed under his compassionate regard.

Sletran thrilled her with that deep voice again. “You were incarcerated? Tortured?”

Rachel nodded and typed on her handheld, which she’d thankfully brought with her.
I
attempted to lead an insurrection against the worst women’s prison in the North American bloc.

It didn’t go so well.

He read her words with Erybet leaning close so he too could see the handheld. Sletran nodded at her. Though he couldn’t possibly be impressed with her cataclysmic failure, his tone was warm and approving. “Very brave of you.”