Amorous Overnight (39 page)

“If that will be all, sir,” he said, pulling it on over his head. He walked away without waiting for a reply.

Cecine sat there on his heels, his hands resting on his splayed knees, and stared unseeing at the antique ceremonial drums mounted on the wall. Hastion had accomplished the seemingly impossible. Twice. Both times during encounters with him. What did it mean?

Hastion mounted the stairs three at a time and strode down the corridor toward his bedchamber. As was typical of his luck, Shelley’s door opened and Tysan emerged. Hastion pulled his tunic down to hide the stain but there would be no hiding the marks darkening on his neck or the odor of his seed. Peserin only knew what Tysan would make of them.

“Is she all right?” he asked quietly after the door had closed.

“She’s calmed quite a bit, but I don’t believe she’s quite ready to receive either of you yet.” Tysan’s nostrils flared and his eyes widened as he made a quick head-to-toe inspection of Hastion.

Acutely conscious of the cool semen creeping down onto his scrotum, Hastion flushed painfully. “Can I see her tomorrow?”

“I expect so, but you must be patient with her.”

“Of course.”

Tysan inclined his head and then turned. “I should go make my report to the minister.”

“Tysan…” when the doctor paused, Hastion’s face burned even hotter, “…would you have time to accelerate the healing of a number of contusions?”

“Certainly.”

When they reached the privacy of his room, Hastion stripped off his tunic and turned to face Tysan, focusing on the wall over his shoulder. Part of him mourned the loss of the marks, but the greater part of him was relieved. They shamed him, and he didn’t want to feel shame. He wanted to proudly wear the marks of a male who cared for him as deeply as Shauss cared for Tiber.

After a long moment, Tysan set down his case on the bed and removed an accelerator gun.

“Hastion, am I correct in assuming the minister did this to you?” he asked mildly as he dabbed regeneration gel over his neck and chest.

“You are.”

Tysan began pressing the accelerator against him in seven-second treatments. “Some of the minister’s actions over the last few months…concern me.”

Hastion looked at Tysan long enough to see his worried frown. “I was a willing participant, Tysan, I just… In the heat of the moment, we both abandoned discretion.”

Tysan blew out a relieved breath. “I’m glad to hear it. You are a male of much worth.”

“Am I?”

“If you don’t know it, you’re the only one who doesn’t. The flamboyant style with which you humbled Ensign Mikal and his cohorts has made you something of a legend over the past few weeks.”

When Hastion stared at him in disbelief, Tysan grinned. “Mikal has requested a transfer, but he’ll be hard-pressed to find an outpost where news of his ‘asshole’ status hasn’t preceded him.”

Heat surged into Hastion’s face again and he ducked, scratching his head. Something of a
legend
, for Peserin’s sake?

“That hand looks rather nasty too,” Tysan remarked.

Hastion glanced at it, flexing his bruised, swollen fingers. “I hit a pillar.”

“If it was a pillar or Minister Cecine, I applaud your choice.” He set the accelerator on the bed. “Let me put some gel—”

“No, thank you,” Hastion said quickly, reluctant to give up this particular mark, though he couldn’t have said why. Perhaps as a reminder not to throw a punch at the minister.

“Are you sure? It looks painful.”

“It’s fine.”

Tysan shrugged and packed away the accelerator. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing each other again soon. Good night, Hastion.”

Hastion nodded and then watched him walk out. He would have liked to ask a few more questions about Shelley’s condition, but the semen drying on his abdomen and scrotum made bathing seem like a better idea.

Walking into the bath, he stripped off his pants and dumped them in the sanitizer before stepping into the shower. Whether it was the cool water or a reaction to his time with the minister setting in, he wasn’t sure, but he began to shake. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he shuddered. Peserin, could his life get any more complicated?

He quickly washed, scrubbing away the semen, and then dressed in a clean pair of mabi pants. But he was too restless to sleep so he stepped out onto the deck. It was completely dark, with only the sound of the sea to distract him.

He walked over and put his hands on the rail. Holy Powers, what was wrong with him that he could orgasm from such minimal stimulation? He’d always felt like a freak among his own kind and now, legend status notwithstanding, he felt it even more. Would the minister discuss it with the doctors, get them to examine him and see why this happened to him? It hardly bore thinking about.

He’d give anything to talk to Shelley about what had happened with the minister, to let her comfort and reassure him. But right now she needed
his
comfort and reassurance.

If she would ever accept it.

Settling onto one of the low deck chairs, he lay back and stared up at the sky. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter Twenty

It was a long, sleepless night during which Shelley did way too much crying. After making sure Cecine had left the house, she went downstairs and had breakfast with the twins and Tara in the dining room. She held her daughter close, treasuring every moment with her. Wyatt was on the floor beside her, already pushing up to stand as he hung on to the furniture. They were both advanced for human babies less than six months old. They should barely be sitting up on their own yet.

How much would they change while she was undergoing her transition? More to the point, how much would she? Would they even recognize her when it was over? Surely they would. Monica and Jasmine were both still recognizable after their transitions.

She needed to get everyone prepared for the coming separation. It was tempting to just lay it all out there for Tara. She was still pissed enough at Cecine to do it. But she’d had a long chat with Tysan the night before—after she yelled at him for his part in the deception, naturally—and she was no longer quite so horrified.

First he’d confirmed Cecine’s claim that Tiber had supported not informing her of the mating.

“So this is all Tiber’s fault, huh?”

Tysan shrugged. “I happened to concur with his opinion. Since all Terran females have a minimum six-month exclusion from intercourse anyway, it would give you time to get to know the minister and Hastion better, and to become more comfortable with them, before having to confront the issue of mating with them.

“Cecine wasn’t required to claim you, you know,” he added. “He could have sent you back to Earth, or passed you down to another unmated male.”

Something in her chest eased just a teensy bit. So maybe he hadn’t taken her just to get her children if he could have had them without her.

Or maybe he just wanted her as a built-in babysitter for them.

“So could he really have kept them from me?”

Tysan nodded. “The twins were born aboard a Garathani vessel and are therefore Garathani citizens who require paternal protection. As the ranking unmated male aboard the
Heptoral
, that duty fell to Cecine. Under our law, he is their father and has full authority over their care.”

“But what about my authority? I’m their
mother
.”

“You have whatever authority he allows you.”

Her eyes just about bulged out of her head. “
Allows
me? Are you kidding me?”

“I am not.”

“So you’re telling me that if I decided to take my kids and go home today—”

“You would have to request Cecine’s permission, and I doubt he’d grant it. Males take their responsibility to their mates and their young very seriously. He can’t properly protect them on Earth, therefore he won’t allow them to live there.”

It took her a moment to find her voice. “That’s outrageous.”

“That’s our law. Mates and young must be protected, and no one can protect them better than the minister. You have no idea how fortunate you and the twins are that he was aboard when you delivered.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll have to agree to disagree about that for the moment,” she said tersely. “So tell me about these brain-dead women Monica was talking about.”

“How did she find out about them?”

“I have no idea. Talk.”

He narrowed his eyes but explained, “All the families of the women involved donated their bodies for our research on the condition that we do everything we can to heal them. In point of fact, we’ve returned more women completely or mostly recovered than we’ve kept. The ones we retained for research have no discernible brain activity, but we treat them as though they do. They’re kept clean, comfortable and modestly covered, and given the same pain control measures aware patients would receive. If you like, I’ve been authorized to give you a tour of the
Heptoral
’s med lab so you can see for yourself that they’re not being harmed in any way.”

“That would probably be good. So the process isn’t some ugly surprise you intend to spring on the recruits?”

“What would be the point? They’re already able to accommodate us.”

When he put it like that, she felt a little silly for getting so flipped out.

“But we had thousands of applications from females who were too small to accommodate us,” he continued. “It was incredibly frustrating to have to turn away willing females. This process is an alternative we can offer them, as well as an opportunity to increase our pool of recruits.”

All of which made sense. But it was his mortality statistics that reassured her more than anything. None of the patients who were in any decent sort of physical shape had died because of the process. Most had emerged from it in better condition. Shelley was young, fat and fit as hell, the perfect storm of experimental readiness.

“I can’t make any guarantees, of course, but I would be utterly shocked if you died,” he’d declared.

Which didn’t mean that she
couldn’t
die. But then she
could
choke on a piece of alien mystery meat and die right here at the breakfast table. She
could
fall down the stairs and break her neck. She
could
get hit by a meteor. Living meant you risked dying.

So now Shelley was almost sanguine about the process, but she didn’t think it was a good idea to go spreading the word. The recruits might overreact the same way she had.

She looked at Tara. “I have a favor to ask you.”

“Okay…” Tara said warily.

“I’m going to be in the hospital for a few days.”

Her eyes widened. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Shelley shook her head. “No, it’s…a procedure I need to have done. If I don’t, I’ll die.”

“Oh…God.” Tara swallowed. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not really feeling that bad. The only reason I told you is that I might not be in any shape to see the twins for a few days. I’m going to see if we can get Janelle here to help you with them while I’m gone, but if you could give them some extra loving for me…?”

“Of course,” Tara said, her eyes full of sympathy. “I couldn’t love them more if they were my own.”

“Thank you. That makes me feel better.” She sighed and then put on a bright smile. “So let’s go to the beach again today. The babies love the water.”

At that moment, Hastion showed up, looking wan in a white tunic and pants. He just stood in the doorway looking at her.

After a long pause, Shelley sighed. “Tara, would you—”

“I’ll just go get the kids ready for the beach.” She gathered up the twins and rushed by Hastion without looking at him.

Out of the blue, it hit Shelley—was Tara in love with Hastion? Was that why she’d been so bitchy for so long?

Of course! It totally fit. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? The very first time Tara got pissy with her was when she and Janelle caught her making out with Hastion, and she’d gotten even more pissy since seeing them on the beach together.

Aw! Now she felt like crap. Poor Tara. That’s why she wasn’t in a hurry to get to her new mates. What a freaking mess.

Hastion took a shuddering breath and then moved into the room. He walked over and sank to his knees beside Shelley’s chair, then just sat there on his heels looking up at her, his blue eyes dull with misery.

“Oh, Hastion,” she finally said, pushing her fingers through his thick brown hair. It had already grown out enough not to stick up on top.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He wrapped his arms around her hips and laid his head in her lap. “Please don’t die.”

Having recently made the same request of him, she smiled as she stroked his head with both hands. “I’m not going to die.”
I hope.
“Talk to Tysan—he’ll explain it. So are you going to the beach with us?”

He looked up. “You wish me to accompany you?”

“Yes, I wish it. I’m sorry I got so angry at you last night.”