Operation Hydra (31 page)

“What did he say?” He pulled her around to face him. “Does Charlotte know about the baby?”

Krysta shook her head. “I know with one sweep of my mind she could find out, but —”

“Charlotte would never do that to you. After the things Dez dar Joon did to her, she would never invade your mind like that.”

“Well, Vee greeted Charlotte, but asked to speak with me alone. He told me he and Belle have decided to keep her in stasis as long as possible. They’re hoping that by decreasing her energy level it will minimize the power of the child. Sort of like what Mom did by splitting us into twins.
If the baby has a less potent source of Mystic energy from which to draw…
I don’t know. He thinks it might help.”

Tracing the high curve of her cheek with his thumb, he pushed his fingers into her hair. “Did he let you see her?”

“I was with Charlotte. But he said if I search for Belle on the metaphysical plane she might be able to respond for a moment or two.”

He pulled her against him, sifting the soft strands of her hair through his fingers. “Do you want to go inside or
is
here okay?”

“Here. Just hold on to me. Sometimes I get shaky.”

“My pleasure.”

The charred remains of the Center surrounded Krysta, but she was not afraid. Tal had explained that the metaphysical plane appeared to each Mystic differently, often as an image they found familiar and comforting.

Well, Krysta was definitely comforted knowing the Center had been reduced to rubble before they left Earth. They had won the battle, no doubt about it. But the outcome of the war had yet to be determined. Tal also explained that as her skill grew, she would be able to control the visualizations, to mold the images into whatever she wanted or needed at the time. She suspected that the burnt-out ruins of Operation Hydra would serve her well for some time to come.

In a few short hours aboard the
Gale
, Krysta had learned more about her abilities than in the twenty-three years that had gone before. Of course, trying to hone a skill was different than trying to accept a genetic abnormality. Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, she repeated the words that had become her mantra, “You have no power over me.”

Sending out a seeker pulse — another Mystic term she had learned from Tal — Krysta searched for Belle’s signal. A cacophony of sound responded and Krysta gasped, pulling back, decreasing the intensity of the pulse. Overlapping thoughts, laughter, emotions swirled around her in a dizzying mix with no order and little meaning.

She’d never been able to reach this many before, or at least she’d never known how to access the ability. She focused, filtered all the others out, until only Belle remained.
Weak and distant, but Belle.

“I’m so tired.”

Belle’s sweet clear voice eased Krysta’s troubled heart. Though the words spoke of exhaustion, peace and hope expanded within Krysta.

“Oh, Belle, it’s so good to hear your voice. What can I do to help? Can I pass you energy?”

“No,” Belle said firmly. “I must be kept weak. He grows stronger with each passing moment.”

“The baby?
You carry a son?”

“Yes. He is so… watchful… so aware.”

“But hardly a week has passed. How can you sense him so strongly? Is he dangerous? Is this wise?”

Belle’s signal flared, burning through Krysta painfully.

“He is my son!” She shot the words at Krysta with metaphysical force. “He is Vee’s son, too. Nothing and no one will be allowed to harm our child.”

“I understand.”

Deep within Krysta something stirred, an elemental understanding.

No matter the cost, you must protect the child. He is my only chance.
Her mother’s words echoed through her mind.

What child?
Krysta had asked.
I don’t understand.

You will.

And she did.

“I will guard your child with my life.” She sent the vow to Belle with all the sincerity in her soul. Relief, and perhaps the cold edge of fear, rippled back to her from Belle. They said nothing for a moment, just enjoyed the peaceful communion of their connection. Then Belle sank back into the void. As Belle receded, Krysta heard her say, “His name is Seth.”

* * * * *

Tears slipped out from under Krysta’s eyelashes, but her expression was calm, peaceful. Her lashes, now spiked with tears, fluttered and then rose. Trey smiled into her languid purple gaze.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”
She sighed, snuggling against him. “It was really good to talk to Belle.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“Because sometimes in the midst of all my bluster she gets lost.”

“Belle?”

Krysta nodded, her lips trembled. “Why didn’t he take me? I could have —”

He gently laid his fingers across her lips, stemming her words. “We can’t change the past. We can only protect the future.”

A violent shiver wracked her body and she looped her arms around his neck. “We have to protect the future. It’s our duty… at least it’s mine.”

He chuckled and raised her chin until she looked at him. “I thought I was the hero. Surely, protecting the future is
our
duty.”

She kissed him, a slow, deep, needful kiss. “How did I ever survive without you?”

“I don’t know, but you need never try again.” She smiled and tugged his face down toward hers, but Trey shook his head. “I spoke to Lyrik while you were exploring the Conservatory with Charlotte.”

Her brow furrowed and she shifted restlessly. “If you’re determined to talk, let’s go inside.”

She sounded annoyed, which amused him. He was just as anxious to make love as she.

“Well, if you’d rather talk after, that’s fine by me.”

A touch of petulance stiffened her gait as she moved into the bungalow. “No, don’t you remember? It has to be my idea.”

Laughing, he followed. “The refugees have been assigned an emissary.”

“I know.” Instead of pulling out one of the two chairs, Krysta scooted onto the table and sat. “Charlotte gave me his name and a list of the hotels housing the refugees. Their personal access codes should be processed by tomorrow.”

Now he was annoyed. “Why did I bother?”

“Because you love me?” she asked hopefully.

The question caught him off guard. Or rather he wasn’t prepared for his violent reaction to her simple question. He felt as if the breath had been sucked from his lungs and his whole body ached just to touch her.

Need. He needed her with every fiber of his being. He had to look away, shaken to realize that his expression likely reflected the emotions raging within him. She slipped off the table and came to him, framing his face with her hands. “Trey, don’t look so devastated. This isn’t a bad thing. I love you, too.”

Pressing her to his chest, he inhaled her scent, absorbed her
heartbeat, listened to her breathe
. “I love you.” The words sounded choked and filled with pain, but that wasn’t how he felt.

“I love you, too,” she repeated.

“No, oh, gods, Krysta I felt it. The cry of my heart, the quickening of my soul… there are legends as old as time, but I felt it just now. You are my soul’s mate. I
love
you.”

She laughed, not a harsh mocking sound, but a musical tinkle that played across his senses. “I
love
you, too. My heart cried out for you the moment our eyes first met.”

He threw back his head and laughed, wrapping her in his brawny arms. “And then you punched me in the eye!”

* * * * *

Naked and sated, Krysta stared out the open window at the Ontarian sky.
Home.
She was finally home. “What do you think of the City of Tears?”

“What?” She looked at Trey, stretched out on his back beside her. His arms drawn up, hands folded beneath his head, displaying his arms and shoulders in a way that made her insides clench. How was he able to harness such strength and touch her so gently? A secret smile curved her mouth. He never seemed to keep the strength harnessed for long. His gentle teasing caresses inevitably turned to —

“The City of Tears?” he repeated. “Would you like to visit it sometime?”

Rolling to her side, she propped herself on her elbow and looked at him. “Isn’t it a military outpost?”

“It’s hard to describe if you’ve never been there. It was once a leisure colony — a holiday destination, but it was converted after the Great Conflict. So it’s incredibly beautiful, but yes, it’s a military outpost.”

“Isn’t that where they took Saebin?”

“Yes, but that’s not why I ask.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

What was this about? He was getting at something. “All right, I’ll bite. Why should we visit the City of Tears?”

“Because I may be the next director of Covert Operations.”

She could tell by the pride in his voice that she should be impressed. “I’m not sure what that means, but if you’re pleased about it, I’m happy.”

“Well, it’s not for certain yet, but Lyrik said Cyrus intends to offer me the position.”

“Cyrus is Lyrik’s father?”

“Yes.” He rolled onto his side, mirroring her pose.

“And if the offer comes as Lyrik predicts, will you accept it?” She combed her fingers through his thick hair and smiled as he did the same.

“I haven’t decided yet, but I’m intrigued by the idea. I know I’m well suited to the work.”

She ran her fingers along his collarbone, guiding his hand in the process as he continued to mimic her movements. “Why haven’t you considered this sort of thing before?”

“I suppose I was too focused on what I could
not
do to think seriously about the options available to me.”

She circled his flat male nipple with her fingertip, but he caught her nipple between his finger and thumb, rolling it firmly. She squirmed. “That’s not fair.”

He swept her beneath him and pinned her arms to the bed. “Then, you’ll protest this even more loudly.”

Nudging her thighs apart, he entered her to the hilt in one forceful thrust. She cried out. Her body squeezed him rhythmically, welcoming him. She expected him to continue on aggressively, forcefully, but he was seldom predictable. Grasping her hips, he held her tightly as he arched over her. Bright with tenderness as well as desire, his amber gaze caressed her face. “I want the directorship…”

Certain he meant to say more, she held out her hands, keeping him from kissing her. “Finish the sentence. What were you going to say?”

He rolled his hips, bringing his erection deeper inside her, but she couldn’t allow even so pleasant a retreat. She pushed against his chest.

“Finish the sentence.”

“I want the position, so I’ll be worthy of you.”

The words rushed out with his heated breath and Krysta gasped. She wrapped her legs around his waist and tangled her fingers in his hair.

“No job will make you worthy of me. We are worthy of each other because we are meant to be together. We complement each other, complete each other. No position can give you that.”

He kissed her forehead, another flash of gentleness in his tempestuous mood. “We may feel that way, but the rest of Ontariese will not. You are important. You are the High Queen’s niece. I want to be worthy of you.”

Finally, she smiled. “Is it okay if I love you, even if you don’t get the job?” His laughter did erotic things with their bodies joined. Krysta groaned. “Make love to me.”

His mouth settled over hers in a seemingly gentle contact, but his tongue coaxed and conquered without hesitation. She held him close. He stroked her skin, caressed her breasts, tormenting her sensitive nipples until she arched into his touch.

Pulling her bottom up onto his thighs to maintain his penetration, Trey rose to his knees. Krysta stared up at him, mesmerized by the strength and the beauty of his form. Only her shoulders rested on the bed. The rest of her body lay at an angle along his upper thighs.

“Make love to me,” she whispered. She couldn’t touch him in this position; she could only receive pleasure from him. And he knew it.

“Sometimes it has to be my idea.” He moved her hands to the bed beside her head and caressed his way back to where their bodies were joined. His skillful fingers touched her, teased her. She felt the tension build, knew he wouldn’t stop until she gave in to her climax, so she didn’t fight it. Relaxing, accepting the spiraling sensations, she squeezed her inner muscles around him and heard him groan.

His fingers focused, rubbed and carefully squeezed, and Krysta’s body obeyed. Liquid heat inundated her core, making each ripple of pleasure an erotic massage. Trey felt her body clenching his and nearly lost control. He panted and ordered, “Put your arms around me.”

“Why?” She smiled dreamily. “You’re doing just fine on your own.”

With an impatient sound, he wrapped her tightly in his arms and rolled with her. He landed on his back and she straddled his hips.
“Your turn.”
He pushed her gently away from his chest. “Rest your weight on your knees and ride me.” He punctuated the directive with a devilish grin.

She looked uncertain, so he took her hips and showed her the motion.

“Oh.” She gasped. “You’re really —”

“Going to die, if you don’t move.”

She moved. Sliding her body up and down along his aching shaft, she gripped him. Trey anchored her hips above him and thrust up into her welcoming heat.

“You can come now,” she said in a silken purr.

His body obeyed, shuddering forcefully with each violent spasm of release. She relaxed against him, sprawled across his chest. “And sometimes it has to be
my
idea.”

Krysta nibbled her bottom lip, waiting for Dro Tar’s reaction.

“Well?” Krysta prompted. “What do you think?”

Dro Tar scratched behind one ear as her warm brown gaze assessed the elegant foyer. “It’s dreadful.”

“What?” Krysta laughed. “It’s a palace.”

“Exactly.”
Dro Tar shuddered. “It’s an Ontarian elitist’s wet… er, daydream, but how can you live here? Aren’t you afraid of getting things — dirty?”