Operation Hydra (26 page)

“I dream of your mother now.”

“Did you hear what he said?”

Trey headed her off at the door, unwilling to share any more of their evening with Lord Drakkin. “Yes. I heard.” He leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. “I also heard him tell you to sleep well. My bed is through that door.”

“And who said I was going to sleep in your bed?” A teasing
smile
quirked one corner of her mouth.

“Is there some other bed you would rather share?”

“No. Maybe I want to sleep alone.”

He cupped her face with his palms and smiled. “Now, why would anyone want to do that, when the alternative is so much more desirable?”

“What do you think he meant about my mother?”

Trey groaned. Obviously, she wasn’t going to let it rest.
“Krysta.”
He paused. What could he say to alleviate her anxiety without spending the rest of the night
talking?

Her brows scrunched up over her luminous eyes. He wanted to kiss away the furrow and hear her
sigh
his name.

“We have reason to believe your mother is still alive.”

The furrow deepened and she stepped back. “That’s not funny. I was there. I watched it happen.”

He pushed away from the door and followed her across the room. “If something happens to Belle, would you know?”

“Yes. You know I can sense her lifeforce. What does Belle have to do with… my aunt can still sense my mother?”

“Yes. Charlotte is adamant that Krystabel is still alive.” Krysta stared back at him, her mouth pressed into a tight line, her hands clenched and unclenched. Damn that Bilarrian troublemaker. “Can you tell me what happened — that day?”

She shook her head. “Oh, God, I don’t even want to think about it.”

“You
are
thinking about it. You’ve never stopped thinking about it. But we suspect you’re remembering what Hydran wants you to remember, not what really happened. We have to punch holes in that illusion. What did you miss that day? What wasn’t what it seemed?”

Closing her eyes, she dragged her fingers through her hair and began. “We were separated by a containment field. He didn’t want me to be able to help her.”

“To help her?
What do you mean?”

Her eyes opened and Trey shuddered at the torment reflected in her purple gaze. He reached for her, desperate to comfort her, but she warned him away with a scathing glare.

“I’ve tried so hard to forget that day, but if you need the gory details, I’ll give them to you.” She continued in a rush of bitter words. “Hydran was determined to see my mother carry another child. He had tried everything you can imagine — solitary confinement, threats, psychological torture. The real problem was, he couldn’t beat the hell out of her because he needed her strong enough to carry the pregnancy to term.”

Suspecting the story had just begun, Trey hesitated to ask questions. “How could she prevent him from impregnating her?”

“How did she split a single embryo into viable twins? My mother was — is a remarkable woman. Hydran surgically impregnated her three times, and all three times she miscarried within days. It infuriated him.”

Krysta pushed away from the desk, moving to the viewport, her back to him. He could let it rest, he probably should, but she had battled this demon alone for far too long. “What did he do?”

He didn’t think she’d answer. Silence stretched between them. He fidgeted. But then, she spoke. In a soft, nearly emotionless rush, the story came pouring out.

“He selected one of the girls from ward
A
, someone weak — dispensable. Neither this girl, nor I, had been told what to expect. We didn’t understand what was going on — only my mother knew.”

Her shoulders trembled, but he didn’t hear a sob or a whimper. Even so, he couldn’t stand the separation any longer. He moved behind her and slipped his arms around her waist, sighing when she covered his arms with hers, instead of pushing him away.

“They grabbed the girl —”

“Who are they?”

“Two of Hydran’s bodyguards.”

“Was Jon one of them?”

“No.”

“Sorry.” He kissed her hair. “Go on.”

“They beat her and — raped
her,
and all we could do… I didn’t understand…”

He turned her, trying to pull her against his chest, but she resisted. Guilt and sorrow twisted her lovely face until Trey wanted to put his fist through a wall. Framing her face with his hands, he gently swiped her tear-dampened cheeks with his thumbs. “Why were you there? I don’t understand.”

“Hydran had told Mother that the abuse would escalate until she agreed to the pregnancy.” She sobbed. “And he told her I was next. The girl was unconscious. The guards asked Hydran what they should do. His voice came over the speakers like some demented demigod. ‘What’s it to be, Krystabel? They don’t need to suffer for your insubordination.’ I looked into her eyes and understood in an instant what was happening. I told her not to give in, that it didn’t matter if they hurt me, whatever he wanted her to do couldn’t be worth it.”

“You didn’t know what he wanted from her?”

“I figured it out later, but that day my mind was a little muddled by fear. Watching a preview of what he intended for me…” She wiped the back of her hand across her cheeks and sniffled.

Trey reached behind him and retrieved some tissues from the holder on his desk. “What did your mother do?”

“She told Hydran she’d have the baby. Then, she knelt beside the girl and absorbed her suffering.”

“Is that different than healing?”

“Yes. My mother wasn’t — isn’t a healer in the conventional sense. The only way she can rid a person of an illness or injury is to absorb it into her own body. That’s what she’d done with Corra all those years ago. Mother was damn lucky the virus wasn’t as harmful to Ontarians.”

“Did Hydran try to stop her?”

“Of course, but Hydran’s men had… hurt the girl badly. He told them to be brutal and they were happy to oblige. Mother absorbed the injuries, and I felt her heart stop beating. You say she’s still alive, but I felt it, Trey, I felt her spirit slip away.”

She accepted his embrace this time, snuggling against his chest. Trey searched his mind for an explanation. How could both stories be true?

“How long were you left in the treatment chamber?”

“For hours.
They took the girl away and rushed Mom to the medical unit in ward D.”

“That was the last time you saw or sensed your mother?” Her hair brushed his face as she nodded. “There must be an explanation — but I sure don’t have it. Charlotte is a very powerful Mystic and now Drakkin is hinting that Krystabel is still alive. We’ll figure it out. We’ll figure all this out. But we better unravel one mystery at a time.”

“Belle first, then my mother?”

“Exactly.”

Her warm mouth opened against his throat. “This has been the longest day of my life.”

“I wish we were returning to Ontariese in triumph, but freeing two hundred isn’t a bad day’s work.”

“What happens when we do return to Ontariese in triumph?”

She sounded vulnerable, charmingly insecure. It was so out of character for his little hellion. He scooped her up in his arms and strode toward the bedroom. “Why, the brigand always gets his choice of the spoils, so I’ll be enjoying your company for a good long time.”

His outrageousness never failed to soothe her. Krysta wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his multi-colored hair. “The last time you called yourself a brigand, I punched you in the eye.”

He kicked the door shut behind them and crossed to his bed. The jewel tones from the study had been carried on into the bedroom, repeated in the boldly striped comforter and wine colored molding. Again she thought everything appeared more Earthish than the rest of the ship.

“I’m ready for you this time.” He slid her down along his body.

Before she could comment on his obvious readiness, his mouth sealed over hers. She opened for him, ready to play, needing to lose herself in their mutual desire. They had been so close today. So very close. Wrapping her arms around his back, she pressed herself against him.

He pulled back, gazing into her eyes. His strong hands framed her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. “We don’t have to make love. I know this day has been hard on you. I really do possess enough self-control to hold you while we sleep.”

“Well, my self-control is exhausted and we can sleep after.”

Kissing her mouth once before he pulled his shirt off over his head, Trey apparently approved of her choice. Her eager hands moved immediately to his chest, making it impossible for him to rid her of her uniform top. He grumbled, but Krysta didn’t care. The first night they made love, he’d explored every inch of her body — twice — but protested that he needed her too badly to withstand her touch.

Her fingers fumbled at the waistband of his pants, searching for the fastening. Trey obligingly undid them for her and she slipped her hands inside, working his trousers down along his lean hips. He kicked them aside and reached for her, but Krysta ducked, moving quickly out of reach.

“Let me look at you,” she said.

“You’ve seen me before,” he objected, but he allowed her hungry gaze to take in its fill. “Let me undress you.”

She shook her head. “Let me touch you.”

His amber gaze clouded a bit, but he extended his arms away from his body. “Touch me. Take as long as you need. Then I’ll touch you.”

Warmth curled through her, a sensation much sweeter than desire. He understood. He understood how oppressed her life had been, how precious control was to her. He cared enough to surrender. Despite his pride, despite his strength, he would entrust himself to her.

She touched him. Running her hands reverently over each contour of his muscular body, Krysta indulged her need to feel him, to memorize the texture of his skin, the blatant power of his rippling torso and thick arms. She pressed her face against his chest while her hands wandered the planes and indentation of his back.

It seemed natural to continue the migration downward and she knelt in front of him. Faced with the throbbing proof of how well her touch pleased him, she grew bolder still. She circled his shaft with her fingers and passed her thumb gently over the very tip. The muscles in his legs bunched. He groaned.

An image from the Companion suddenly popped into her mind. A woman kneeling before her lover as Krysta was kneeling now. Her head bobbed back and forth. Krysta hadn’t understood the significance of the position. Smiling wickedly, Krysta looked up along Trey’s magnificent body, until their gazes locked.

She licked her lips and then closed her mouth around the plush tip of his erection. Trey’s fingers threaded through her hair and she could hear each harsh breath. She swirled her tongue around him and took him deeper. Hot, throbbing, his shaft slid against her tongue. She tightened her lips and heard him groan. Moving faster, she inhaled his scent, memorized his taste,
claimed
him.

Trembling, Trey stumbled back, dragging himself out of her mouth. “I
really
need to touch you now.”

She smiled and raised her arms in silent invitation. He pulled her uniform top off and helped her to her feet. Bending to her full breasts, he cupped one while he adored the other with his mouth, laving and suckling until she arched into his touch.

His hand drifted down along her side, finding her hip silky and bare. When had she shed her pants? He chuckled, thankful for her eagerness. He swept her into his arms and placed her in the center of the bed, lying down on his side facing her. Slipping his forearm under her neck, he kissed her deeply while his hand began a leisurely exploration.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against her lips.
“So brave, so fierce — and so honorable.”

Her hand stroked his face, her tongue returned his caress, and Trey felt his world unravel. He couldn’t love her. They would take her away! As soon as they returned to Ontariese the Mystics and the High Council would sweep her into a life filled with intrigue and — politics.

The thought made him angry, and desperate. His heart pounded and his fists clenched in the sheets. It was already too late. He loved her, how could he not?

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.
You’ve just made me ache so badly, I hurt all over.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“You tell me.”

He nudged her legs apart and scooted down between her thighs. Feathering kisses across her belly and along one hipbone, he watched her quiver, heard her sigh. He loved her. The realization wouldn’t leave his mind. Damn it, how had this happened?

He lifted her leg to his shoulder, parting her gently with his thumbs. She cried out with the first sweep of his tongue, but soon she arched for him, tense and responsive. He circled her mercilessly, wanting her to find release so he could take his time inside her. And by the gods of the day moon, he needed to be inside her!

Krysta tossed upon on the bed, her fingers tangled in his hair. Tension wound so tightly within her, she feared she’d break in two. His mouth moved against her, his tongue gently circling.
Her core throbbed, hollow and burning.
Why wouldn’t he fill her?

“Trey, please.”
Ever so carefully, his lips closed around the knot of nerves his tongue had been teasing and she shattered. Hard, raking spasms of pleasure shook her entire body. She cried out, her back bowed clear off the bed.

Lifting her other leg to his shoulder, he thrust into her, while her core still pulsed with climax. Krysta’s body continued to throb, tingling wave followed tingling wave, as he moved in and out. She couldn’t catch her breath; the pleasure was too intense.

Lights danced before her eyes and her world narrowed to Trey. She felt his strong body moving over, against and in her. Tightening her inner muscles around him, she made him groan. She did it again and again. He moved faster, deeper. The tension built, though it had never receded completely. She welcomed his aggression, needed it to push away the lurking darkness. His hand grasped her hips, holding her firmly, taking her more deeply.