Parallel Heat (16 page)

She didn’t move. She kept perfectly still, ablaze with fire. Here it was again! She craved her Change so suddenly, so unexpectedly, all because he had touched her hand. No man had ever elicited such natural desires in her. Briefly, she lingered on an image of revealing herself to Marco. Of standing before him, naked, and then in the power of a moment, transforming to her most natural form.

Would he be shocked? Horrified? Last night he’d claimed to know all about her dual nature.

She licked her lips in heated anticipation, feeling her hands tremble against her thighs. She’d never been more physically aware of anyone than she was of Marco. The man was a terrible seducer of women. How could he possibly claim to be a virgin, with these kinds of deliberate maneuvers?

‘‘I don’t have enough room,’’ she finally managed to choke out, her voice sounding like that of a panting schoolgirl.

‘‘Hmm,’’ was all he said, but he didn’t budge. She turned sideways in her seat and found him smiling at her again, a faint blush having crept into his dark face.

‘‘Could you move over a bit?’’

‘‘I
could
,’’ he teased—again intentionally keeping his voice so low that it wouldn’t be heard by Kelsey or Scott from where they were seated across the aisle.

‘‘You’re impossible,’’ she muttered under her breath.

He leaned his head close beside hers, breathing against her cheek. ‘‘Why, Lieutenant Haven, am I bothering you?’’

She said nothing, only gave him a scathing glance, feeling her face burn as if she were in heat. He laughed softly, and at last shifted in his seat, giving her a bit more room.

Strange, but as badly as she’d wanted him to move, now that he had, she wanted nothing so much as to have him near again.

 
They touched down at the base of the rocky incline where the mitres chamber was located. She had made the climb before, in the daylight, and while it wasn’t easy, it was traversable enough. Now she wore her night-vision goggles, as did all the others, and worked to regulate her breathing. She knew the human authorities were nearby, the FBI from what they had been told, but positioned on the far side of the lake. Their transport’s stealth was leagues ahead of anything the humans possessed, so they had easily flown under the humans’ noses without detection. A quick drop, and the transport had jetted away soundlessly, leaving their team of four here on the ground.

It was time to move quickly, they all knew that, and Scott began the climb, assuming the lead. Kelsey followed after, then Marco, and now Thea had the rear.

There were a few scrawny lodgepole pines, but mostly scratchy little saplings, the kind that grew from crevices. Parts of the trail grew more thickly wooded, and at those times Thea increased her pace, not wanting to fall behind the others—all of whom had longer strides than she did. Yet again, as at so many other critical military junctures, she cursed her petite size.

Arriving at the top of the trail, a large outcropping of rocks jutted toward the lake below. They stepped into the cleft that dipped back into the side of the cliff. Now was the moment they had spent so many years waiting and hoping for. Thea prayed that the data truly was secure within Kelsey’s mind.

The group of them crouched low, Marco taking a security position, studying the trail and the sweeping landscape below for enemies of either the Antousian or human variety. Scott urged Kelsey against the side of a large boulder, wordlessly indicating the most secure position. His pulse rifle in hand, he too assumed a protective position. Even with his night-vision goggles on, Thea could read the message in Scott’s eyes:
Get on with it, and let’s get out of here. Fast.

Kelsey gave a nod, extending both of her hands—a receptive gesture that surprised Thea. None of their own species was so open, not after so many years of warfare. Wordlessly, Thea drew both of Kelsey’s hands within her own, focusing all of her intuitive abilities on a mind-link. With a shiver, she immediately felt the woman’s consciousness. Thea bristled, wanting to retreat, but Kelsey was so forceful, so open, so focused, that it was almost as if she chased after Thea. After her initial recoil, Thea pushed forward again, this time meeting Kelsey in the center of the tentative link.

Can you hear me?
came the human’s familiar voice within her own mind.

Yes. I can hear you.
Unlike Kelsey, her own voice sounded belligerent.

How do we . . . do this?
Kelsey replied, her voice soft but confident.

There is a portal here; the mitres will only open if I first link with you
, Thea explained tersely,
which we are doing—and then access the data to connect with the portal.

Thea marveled that Kelsey never seemed to know fear or apprehension; she always propelled herself right into things.

Thea worked into her human mind, felt, sensed memories and experiences, all manner of intimate impressions. She acknowledged none of them, dwelled on none of them. She would honor Kelsey’s vulnerability by preserving as much of her privacy as possible. The only time she hesitated was over a memory that held particular power—the death of Kelsey’s mother. Thea paused then, closing her eyes, remembering her own mother’s death. They had something in common, a strange thought for Thea—something else in common besides a love for Jared. But then she pressed onward, at last locating the data, lodged hard within Kelsey’s subconscious, but it was there—and intact—nonetheless.

I have it!
Thea proclaimed excitedly. Across their link she felt Kelsey’s own thrilled reaction.

What now?
the human asked, sounding almost breathless.

We create the portal and the four of us
—Thea glanced at Marco and Scott where they squatted on the edge of the cliff, guarding the two of them—
move inside the chamber.

Chapter Eleven

Marco found himself face-first on a cold, smooth floor. Somewhere. Nowhere. He had no idea how he’d landed where he was, and it almost seemed as if his arms and legs were made of thick rubber. His stomach rolled with nausea, and as he worked to move his fingers the air around him thickened.

Last he remembered Thea and Kelsey had been mind-linked outside the mitres chamber, working to upload the codes. He recalled the twin expressions of intense concentration on both their faces—each with their eyes closed, each seemingly reaching beyond the moment. After that, there’d been a bright blue ring that formed around the four of them, swirling and undulating as it tightened like a lasso about their group.

Then only free-falling through memories, impressions, images. He saw the ranch he’d lived on in Idaho. The palace hill in Thearnsk. A lifetime of memories and half-remembered places, all lost to him now. Then . . . nothing. This dark, dank place with the cold floor, and a body that refused to bend to his will.

‘‘Thea?’’ he mumbled, his mouth thick as gauze.

He felt someone nudge his booted foot. No answer. Soft groaning. Then, ‘‘Dimensional . . . sickness.’’ That was Thea. ‘‘Arienn . . . wrote . . . about it.’’

Pressing his forehead against the cold floor, he gasped for air. So they’d been successful—they had managed to create a portal and enter the chamber.

Someone else stirred, off to his right. With a painful movement he managed to turn his head sideways. Scott Dillon was sitting upright, his face buried in both hands. He appeared in better shape than the rest of them. Farther away from them he heard a soft, feminine moan that he was pretty sure came from his queen.
Must . . . recover. Kelsey. Queen
, he thought foggily. Struggling past every unholy physical sensation, he managed to lift onto his knees at last.

Thea lay on her side, near to him. She had been the one to touch him. Had she been reaching for him? Slowly, he slid toward her, placing his palm in the center of her back.
Strength. Can give her my strength
, he thought, studying Kelsey where she lay about six feet away from the group of them. He had to crawl to her somehow and make sure she was all right.
But first,
he thought,
I can help Thea
. Beneath his hand, she stirred, groaning. ‘‘Thea, here,’’ he urged, ‘‘let me help you up.’’

‘‘I’m . . . all right.’’ Her voice was hardly recognizable. Slowly she struggled to a sitting position, her face ashen.

Again, he looked toward Kelsey, and finally sure he wouldn’t pass out, began to crawl toward her, every movement demanding a supreme amount of strength.

She lay on her side, curled into a ball, and seemed to be totally unconscious. It concerned him; what if her human anatomy had been ill-equipped for dimensional travel? The mitres did not open by a door or a hatch or any basic method: it could only be entered via a dimensional portal. That was what ensured its safekeeping from all their enemies. But as far as he knew, no human had ever made such a dimensional journey.

When he reached Kelsey, he saw that she was breathing—a slow, deep rhythm as if she’d been asleep a long time. He was pleased to see a peaceful expression on her face.

Thea worked her way toward him, sliding on her knees. ‘‘Gods, that was awful!’’ she cried, sounding again like herself.

‘‘It still is awful,’’ Scott groaned, continuing to sit cross-legged, his face buried in both hands.

‘‘Arienn wrote all about this. The first time he traversed the portal, he was sick for days.’’

‘‘Thanks for the warning.’’ Dillon grunted.

Thea stared in his direction, an irritable expression on her face, then, catching Marco staring at her, she rolled her eyes. They both laughed softly.

Hearing them, Scott barked, ‘‘Shut up.’’

‘‘Did I say a word?’’ Thea shot back at him as he stared down at Kelsey where she lay on the floor. Looking up at Marco, she asked, ‘‘Do you think she’s all right? I mean, she’s out cold.’’

‘‘I’m not sure,’’ he said, reaching for her wrist to take her pulse. ‘‘She looks well enough, but—she’s certainly different from the rest of us. This obviously took a huge toll on her.’’

‘‘It wasn’t the dimensional jump—it was the data removal.’’ Thea shook her head, reaching to touch Kelsey’s shoulder with surprising gentleness. ‘‘She’s tough. It wasn’t easy on her at all. But we have it now.’’ She reached to her hip and indicated a data collector, a slim, portable device no bigger than a cigarette lighter; it was what they used to house and transport all their critical data and intelligence. ‘‘I linked with her, found the data, exported it . . . and then uploaded it into the collector. In the process, I was obviously successful in creating the time portal. Damn!’’ she suddenly cried, her beautiful face spreading into a huge smile. ‘‘We’ll chalk this one up to our side!’’

‘‘Good work, Haven,’’ Scott Dillon said, sounding less than enthusiastic. He was slowly regaining his composure, and was looking in their direction. Marco was about to ask the lieutenant if he needed help when he noticed Dillon’s gaze track past them all, fixing solidly on the far side of the room. ‘‘What in All’s name is
that
?’’ he asked.

 
It was the coiling unit, Thea thought. It was what the large, glowing cylinder had to be. Jared had seen it the night he dismantled the codes and managed to enter the chamber. Arienn had detailed it in his journals, describing how he had seeded his own energy inside the large tube. Still, knowing what it was did nothing to spoil the powerful magnificence of the object. Thea rose unsteadily, walking toward where the unit stood in the center of the room. The device was transparent, revealing only the cool, last embers of the prince’s long-ago-seeded energy.

Reverently, she reached her palms toward the cylinder’s smooth surface. Would it scald her? Change her? She hardly cared, so drawn was she to connect with her ancestor’s energy still glowing cool green within.

‘‘Thea, watch out,’’ Scott cautioned her brusquely. ‘‘You have no idea what the hell that thing is!’’

‘‘It’s the core of this chamber,’’ she said. ‘‘We should be quiet, respectful.’’

‘‘Because of a device?’’ Scott pressed, taking the place beside her. His black eyebrows corkscrewed into a scowl.

Thea turned to him, smiling at her longtime friend. ‘‘Because it’s my ancestor’s energy inside. A part of him is still alive’’—she pointed toward the tube—‘‘in there.’’

‘‘There’s a difference between the prince’s energy and his essence,’’ Scott countered.

‘‘No,’’ she disagreed quietly, ‘‘it is part of who he was, and it continues in there. He left that in order to protect all of us. It was the ultimate sacrifice to give up part of his core self.’’

Scott turned to her, his familiar black eyes troubled. He had never fully understood what she and Jared were, that they were dual beings. It had disturbed him, confounded him, but he never could seem to wrap his mind around it. Glancing between her and the coiling unit, she could see how fast his mind worked. ‘‘Does he know we’re here?’’ he asked at last, and Thea couldn’t help laughing a little.

‘‘Lieutenant, no. It’s his power. His raw energy. Not his spirit.’’ She turned back toward the coiling unit, lowering her voice. ‘‘But we should still be respectful.’’

Suddenly the hairs on the nape of her neck prickled, standing on end. Marco spoke from just behind her, giving voice to her deepest emotions at the moment. ‘‘You feel a strong connection with the prince,’’ he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

She nodded, saying nothing, feeling tears sting her eyes.

‘‘Because you’re like him,’’ he continued.

This time the tears burst forth, beginning to stream down her cheeks, and again she nodded. All her life, she’d felt alone. Different. And all her life she had craved the company of someone like herself.

‘‘You have always felt alone,’’ Marco continued, slipping one large palm onto her shoulder. Her entire body erupted in flame at his touch—perhaps because of the intimacy, perhaps because he understood her to the depths of her fiery soul. She wasn’t sure; all she knew was that suddenly she found herself sobbing, staring at the long-dead prince’s lingering energy shadow.