Fashionably Dead Down Under (36 page)

Her former mate was making it very clear that
even though he had helped her, she was no one important in his
life. Why hadn’t he just said it straight out to her? It wasn’t
like she hadn’t figured out their personal relationship was
over.

There was a quiet knock on her door and Ania
opened it to find a person she hadn’t expected to see so soon.
Given her cool reception so far by the Liberator’s crew, she
figured
Captain Synar
had issued an order for her to be
shunned. She hadn’t expected Synar’s best friend to defy him.

“Greetings, Dorian Zade,” Ania said, bowing
her head and closing her eyes. “It is a pleasure to see you once
more. I saw you in the recovery crew who came to collect me, but
you hardly spared me a look. I wasn’t even sure if you were going
to be allowed to speak to me.”

“Greetings, Ania Looren, and apologies for my
lack of acknowledgment until now. My interest earlier was in Liam
and his reactions to what was happening. He was struggling to
control—well, it is not my place to explain for him. Forgive me for
rambling,” Dorian said, bowing his head, wishing he could embrace
her. “I just wanted to see if you were getting settled and ask if
you needed anything.”

Shaking her head to answer his question, Ania
walked away from the open door to return to her unpacking. Dorian
could make his own decision about coming in or not.

“Unless you came to offer me the information
Liam seems unwilling to share yet, there is nothing more I need at
the moment. My parents cried when I left as if I were dying instead
of merely joining Liam—sorry—I mean,
Captain Synar
, on his
ship. Even without my intuition working properly, it is quite
obvious that the two of you have kept many secrets from me.”

“I swear by the Creators of All that peace
will return to you soon,” Dorian said with conviction, stepping
cautiously across her threshold even though the invitation to enter
had not been given.

Ania turned her face away from the male she
had taught to read her hundreds of years ago. She would never be
able to hide her true feelings from Dorian, so it was just as well
she did not currently feel the urge to do so. “
Peace?
I have
not had peace since I met the one you still call your truest
friend. Tell me, Dorian—did you ever regret setting aside your
spiritual vows to take a life mate?”

Compassion flowed through Dorian for Ania’s
emotional pain, which was much greater than Liam was allowing
himself to know. He sent her all the vibrations of kindness the
demon inside the woman would allow her to receive. Her sad facial
expression eased a little as she absorbed the energy of his kind
thoughts. The healing was surprisingly more than he had expected.
Dorian silently thanked the Creators as he intuitively calculated
the enormity of Ania’s pain. Seeing the extent of her personal
devastation, his own role in helping cause it totally shamed
him.

“Yes. I admit that after both times I mated I
regretted setting aside my spiritual vows. Yet as contradictory as
it seems, I never regretted a moment of the actual time I spent
with my mates. It is a paradox that I often meditate on,” Dorian
said, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Which reminds me of the
second offer I wish to make to you. I have created a meditation
space on the ship that you are welcome to use for your spiritual
work. The room is guarded, so nothing will disturb you there.”

Ania turned away again and bowed her head. Of
all her former students, she hated admitting her spiritual failures
to Dorian Zade. He had once told her that her enlightenment was the
ideal he sought to emulate. It was just one more reason to mourn
what she had lost.

“I thank you for your consideration of my
spiritual needs, but I no longer meditate. The moment I close my
eyes, I fall instantly into a dreamless sleep. Projection is also
impossible now. My spirit seems bound to my body in new ways, and
true introspection also eludes me. I have come to see these as
penalties. They are the price I paid for rescinding my vows and
mating, though it only happened after Liam left for good. It
doesn’t matter. All that matters is that eight hundred years of my
life are gone.”

“Of course it matters, Ania. Everything you
feel matters. My spirit grieves for your spirit’s pain,” Dorian
told her, coming fully into the room and easing the door partially
closed behind him. “May I touch you to read you?”

“No one has touched me but my mother and
father in a long time, Dorian. You may try, but do not be
disheartened at the absence of my spirit. My parents say it is like
I am only a shell of who I once was.”

Dorian walked to Ania and placed his hands on
her arms. He felt the dark energy pushing back on him, but he sent
only compassion and understanding into her body. To his pleasure,
Ania closed her eyes and breathed out raggedly.

Amazed, Dorian felt the demon within her step
aside and relinquish his hold enough to let Ania be comforted. He
thanked the entity and immediately was shown an image of her spirit
sleeping as if in a trance. It was sad, but also reassuring.

“I feel such an agony of longing all the
time,” Ania whispered. “Why does all peace elude me, Dorian?”

Shame and guilt at her words enveloped him
again. Dorian bent and touched his forehead to Ania’s, something
rarely done by her people except by close mates. To match the third
eye chakras was a very intimate experience for both Pleiadians and
Sirens, yet he would hold nothing back from Ania Looren ever again
that could help her genuinely heal. He was deeply sorry now that he
had not forced Liam to do better by his mate.

“Close your eyes while I offer solace,”
Dorian ordered, his voice a husky whisper in the near silent
room.

Ania did as Dorian asked and felt his
compassion warm her. It cleansed her body like a wave of full
spectrum light passing over her. It was the first comfort she’d had
in a long time. She whimpered at the relief, but refused to allow
herself any further emotional displays. Tears hovered, but receded
as she refused to let them fall.

Dorian felt both the demon and Ania ripple in
relief. Extreme loneliness and fear emanated from both. It was most
unexpected to learn that even the demon had missed Liam. There was
obviously much his friend did not understand about the creature
he’d inherited, as well as about the female he had mated.

Then unexpectedly, the Creators opened up
Ania’s destiny to him with rolling images of what was to come.
Knowing the demon could prevent him from seeing, Dorian had no time
to process his own shock.

And there it all was—Ania’s most likely
destiny suddenly laid out for him to read like most would read a
com search. It was both marvelous and more frightening than
anything Dorian had intuited in his life before that moment. He had
to clear both awe and fear from his throat in order to speak.

“There are great changes possible for you in
the coming days, and many decisions to be made,” Dorian said
carefully. “Know there are as many kinds of death as there are of
life. Make choices that you can live with no matter how difficult
they are for others to bear. And Ania. . .” His voice tapered off
as he saw what Ania would become if she chose a certain path. The
vision shook him as he held her. Did he dare reveal it?

“What do you see, Dorian? Is death a
possibility?”

“I’m sorry. The words to describe what I see
will not come to my tongue at the moment, but my instinct is that
the Creators of All are the architects of these plans for you,”
Dorian said solemnly, raising his head and opening his eyes. “I
will selfishly ask you not to choose your own physical death
regardless of how hard your new life seems.”

“
My new life
?” Ania repeated Dorian’s
words as calmly as she could, though she felt anything but calm
about them. Her new life, as he called it, was a trap from which
she had found no escape for two years. Her frustration over that
fact exceeded any emotion she could ever recall having before. “I
have no life, Dorian. In all the ways that matter, I am already
dead. I was dead to my mate when he left. Now I am dead to my
parents as well.”

She made herself step away from the
comforting touch of Dorian’s hands. It was hard to give it up
because she could at least feel his sincere compassion. Most
Pleiadians did not touch others routinely, and no one touched
someone of her societal rank without express permission. It was
Liam Synar who had changed her desire for even the most basic of
physical contact—and almost from the first moment they had been
introduced. What had she become because of the Norblade male who
had abandoned her?

Ania shook her head as she stepped as far out
of Dorian’s reach as she could get in the small space. She turned
her face to his again, but there was no more comfort in it. His
compassion only angered her now. It felt too much like pity.

“How much more death can there be for me,
Dorian? I fear there is even too little of my spirit left for the
Creators of All to want it, otherwise I would be gone from this
life. Be wise and never sacrifice your spiritual vows for a mate
again. It is not a good exchange.”

“All you say may feel true to you at the
moment, yet you are still physically alive, Ania. Plus I saw all of
you in the reading. Your spirit is still inside your body, just
hidden away and sleeping until something awakens it. I have faith
in the Creator’s plan, so I will meditate for you until you are
able to do so for yourself again. Blessings on your continued long
life, my great teacher. I serve you still.”

Ania snorted at Dorian’s declaration, but
afterwards felt herself close to tears once more. Yes,
teacher
. She had been that once, though the details were
like a story that happened to someone other than her.

Ania was tempted to demand more answers. If
pressed, Dorian would probably tell her the secret Liam was hiding.
But she couldn’t in good conscience ask Dorian to divide his
loyalties between Synar and her. There was no choice but to wait
for her former mate to decide to talk to her.

“Blessings on your continued long life as
well,” Ania said finally, bowing her head to him again. More anger
would not help. And she was grateful that Dorian cared. “Go in
peace, Dorian. I’m sure I’ll see you again shortly on a ship this
size.”

Dorian turned his body toward the door, but
his face was still turned toward Ania, reluctant to leave. Her head
was bowed in even more defeat now than when he had entered the tiny
cramped space where Synar had put her. He almost ran over the
person in the doorway as he considered whether to stay or go.
“Liam—pardon. I didn’t see you.”

“Why are you here?” Synar demanded. “I said
Ambassador Looren was not to be disturbed at all today.”

“I am only here to help her get settled in,
Captain
. If you’ve come to see to your mate’s needs, I will
gladly take my leave of her.”

Dorian’s irritation faded quickly. His
formality had the desired effect of causing Liam more guilt than a
thousand carefully chosen words might have. He almost never called
him captain. Liam had never asked it of him.

“Dorian is not disturbing me anymore than you
are,
Captain Synar
. He offered me vibrational solace and
showed me kindness, as is the best gift of his people. His efforts
were appreciated and quite within protocol for a ship’s
counselor.”

Ania hoped her words covered her resentment
for Dorian calling him her mate. She wasn’t going to allow Liam to
know how much being on the ship, and near him again, was bothering
her. She didn’t want to risk triggering Liam’s stubborn side, but
she wasn’t going to let him dictate her actions either. They needed
to reach a new understanding.

“Let’s get some uncomfortable business
between us settled. I hereby officially request you, and your crew,
to stop addressing me by a title you and I know I no longer hold. I
claim the right be called Ania Looren only. I revoke all other
names and titles.”

Ania hoped he realized “mate” was also one of
the titles being revoked. It would save further confrontation.

Despite no forthcoming invitation, Synar
walked by a glaring Dorian to enter the room, ignoring the warning
look the older male bestowed on him as they passed each other. He
probably owed Dorian an apology, but it would have to be offered
later.

“As you wish,” Synar conceded, his gaze
moving from Dorian’s retreating back to the female now mostly
ignoring him. “I’ve been thinking of what would be a suitable role
for you on the Liberator. Being a peace keeper on a ship is not so
different from being an ambassador.”

“I probably no longer qualify for that
either, but will abide by your decision while I am among your crew,
Captain.”

Ania turned from her now completed task of
unpacking to face him. Dorian, for all his greater size, did not
fill up the small room as much as the Norblade male now standing
way too near to her. She acknowledged her rising female awareness
of him and set it aside.

“You said we would discuss what happened when
I fell asleep during the inquiry. Is this a proper time?”

Synar looked at Ania in the crew uniform she
had donned. All he could think of was how much she looked just like
she did when he had met her. In her capacity as ambassador back
then, Ania had come aboard his ship to be transported to a
multi-planet counsel session. Though she had looked beautifully
cold and unapproachable, he had become instantly ravenous to bond
with her. The thought of Ania being with or belonging to another
male was just as unbearable now as it had been then.

It was unfortunate that another male
ultimately had claimed her, and worse that he had done so by
Synar’s command. Yet no matter how loathsome the decision, he was
no closer to being able to give Ania over to death now than when
he’d sent Malachi into her the first time. And he didn’t care how
many planetary laws it broke. Every instinct he possessed still
said the female in front of him had to live—whatever the cost.