Parallel Heat (27 page)

‘‘Have you spoken with Anika today?’’ he inquired.

Thea took the lead on the path. ‘‘Yes, sir. She and Anna are working on recon over at Warren. So far, nothing to report about Lieutenant Dillon.’’

Thea paused at a turn in the path, one that gave a sudden sweeping view of the valley below. Sunlight pierced the clouds, creating a panorama of color and light. ‘‘Jared, I’m worried about Scott.’’

When Thea addressed him by his first name he always knew their roles had shifted into something much more personal. ‘‘I am as well,’’ he admitted. ‘‘Extremely concerned and anxious. What does your intuition tell you?’’

She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, not speaking at first. Her gaze flitted to the valley and her eyes narrowed—was she using her gift even now?

‘‘I see nothing. It’s odd, cousin. Just darkness and fog.’’

The tempo of Jared’s heartbeat increased rapidly. ‘‘Could it mean death?’’ he asked in alarm.

She shook her head. ‘‘No, I don’t think so. I think it means . . . that events are undetermined.’’

‘‘You never come up with that kind of reading.’’

‘‘Unless the gods don’t mean for me to know,’’ she answered matter-of-factly. ‘‘It’s a gift that comes from them, don’t forget. Sometimes there are too many choices that still hang in the balance, too many possibilities and directions for destiny to take us. I think Scott is at a crossroads right now.’’

‘‘I see.’’ Jared tried to ignore the hammering sound of fear that roared in his ears.

‘‘The Antousians have been flying back and forth across the Canadian border for several days, sir,’’ Thea informed him, changing her demeanor and tone once again. ‘‘What do you think it means?’’

‘‘They’re planning something. They’ve always been circumspect with crossing international boundaries—too much chance for unwanted attention.’’ Jared had a thought. ‘‘I wonder if the Air Force knows about their activities. They might have drawn Dillon’s attention to it.’’

‘‘Perhaps the lieutenant might open a door for communication,’’ she reflected, just as his security advisor had pondered yesterday. ‘‘Do you think some sort of conversation between our side and the US government might be a viable possibility?’’

‘‘I wouldn’t have thought so before,’’ he said, ‘‘but we must see how the situation with Scott plays out.’’

‘‘Agreed.’’ They began to hike again, Thea taking the lead on a narrow, slippery section of trail, and they fell silent until once again they could hike side by side.

‘‘So, then,’’ she resumed, ‘‘tell me what else is on your mind besides your concern for Lieutenant Dillon.’’

He stopped in his tracks. ‘‘Blasted!’’ He laughed. ‘‘It gets damned uncomfortable living among intuitives.’’

She gave him a grudging, playful smile. ‘‘We keep you on your toes, sir, so that you won’t carry the weight of this entire rebellion on your own.’’

He nodded, studying his boots. ‘‘This isn’t about the rebellion,’’ he admitted quietly. Thinking of Kelsey’s hope that maybe Thea would have some advice for him, he added, ‘‘I wish it were. Hell, it might be easier that way.’’

‘‘It’s about the queen, isn’t it?’’

He glanced up, surprised to hear Thea refer to her by her title. He gave an abrupt, awkward nod.

‘‘Perhaps I can help,’’ she encouraged, reaching to touch his arm, and he thought he might weep in sheer relief at her offer.

‘‘Yes,’’ he breathed. ‘‘That . . . would be much appreciated, dear cousin. I fear I need advice on’’—he paused, sucking in an emboldening breath—‘‘the business of mating.’’

‘‘Sex?’’ she blurted with a shocked expression. ‘‘You’re far more experienced than I, cousin!’’

‘‘Not sex, no,’’ he rushed to amend, and coughed into his hand, blushing painfully. He’d made it sound like he needed help with the act itself—and that’s clearly how she’d interpreted his request. With another cough, and staring at the snowy ground between them, he elaborated, ‘‘I mean, advice on mating cycles. If I’m ever to produce an heir, I require some very generous advice on the matter of—well, uh, mating heat.’’

‘‘Now
that
,’’ she answered with a confident nod, ‘‘I might be able to help you with!’’

 
Hope stirred groggily, feeling as if her entire body had been submersed in rubber glue. Even her eyelashes stuck together as she struggled to open her eyes. Finally, she blinked back sleep, staring up into a bright corona of light. A medical lab, that’s where they’d taken her.

‘‘You’re awake.’’ It was the colonel’s voice, from somewhere beside her. With great effort, she rotated her head sideways. He sat beside her bed, and though his form was little more than a blurry apparition, she did think he seemed sorry.

‘‘Why’d you knock me out?’’ she asked, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as she worked to talk. ‘‘Water?’’ she added hopefully, and immediately the colonel pressed a cup with a straw into her hands.

‘‘You have our deepest apologies, Ms. Harper. Our very deepest apologies.’’

‘‘It was a mistake,’’ she agreed flatly.

‘‘Of course it was—we overlooked the issue of your eyes . . .’’

‘‘It’s called retinopathy,’’ she volunteered angrily. ‘‘It’s an eye disease that affects my retinal patterns—I told your security team about this going in! That a retinal scan was unreliable because of my diabetic condition.’’

‘‘But the pattern changed from the time you entered the holding facility and the time you prepared to exit.’’

‘‘Because I was nervous. My blood pressure probably went up, and that affected the vessels in my eyes.’’

‘‘Again, Ms. Harper, our most sincere apologies. It won’t happen again.’’

‘‘Why’d you think I wasn’t myself—I mean, how could that be, anyway?’’

She was met by silence.
Need-to-know basis, here we go again,
she thought. But for once, that kind of pissed her off, them having injected her with sedative and all. ‘‘Look’’—she worked to sit up in bed—‘‘we both know that Refarians don’t live on Earth. Okay? I’m not stupid; I went to William and Mary, I work for the FBI, and I’m just not an idiot. So, Colonel, tell me why you’d think a girl who looks exactly like me could somehow
not
be me?’’

Again, nothing but silence. She sighed. ‘‘I’m making headway with this guy. If you’d just
need
me to
know
a bit more, I could probably get somewhere.’’

‘‘Some of his kind are capable of changing form. Into anything. We know that about them.’’

It was exactly what she’d surmised earlier, before they sedated her, but for some reason she’d still wanted the colonel to admit it. ‘‘So you thought I wasn’t Hope Harper.’’

‘‘Our mandate is to DNA-test anyone who comes in or out of that room. Period.’’

Hope sipped from the straw, thinking. The interrogation team owed her now, so this just might be her chance for a breakthrough with the alien. She was about to voice her request, when a strange thought intruded upon her psyche: Scott Dillon meant something to her. It was as if she’d been dreaming about him, something she couldn’t quite recall, but she suddenly felt a strong attachment to the man. The same sort of feelings that had been niggling at her all day during the questioning: The overpowering sense that she’d known him before. That he could be trusted.

And that he needed her help, desperately.

‘‘Colonel, before our problem’’—she indicated the infirmary bed with a wave of her hand, an intentional reminder of his miscalculated maneuver—‘‘you and I were discussing the possibility that I might question Dillon on my own. I’d basically be rehashing some of your earlier questions, but doing it in my own way.’’

‘‘Yes, I recall that, Ms. Harper.’’

‘‘Well, have you thought about it any further? Because I think I could gain some ground with him.’’

‘‘Right now, I think we’re open to anything that might work.’’

She swung her feet over the side of the bed—she was still in her clothes from earlier—and dropped them to the floor. This would make an excellent opportunity to prove to headquarters that her increasing eyesight problems hadn’t slowed her down any. ‘‘Good. I’m ready, sir.’’

‘‘But you’re barely awake—’’

She cut him off, smoothing a hand over her disheveled hair. ‘‘I am always ready to roll, Colonel. Just give me a chance.’’

 
‘‘So, um, this matter of cycling,’’ Jared began tentatively. ‘‘I find it eludes me for some reason.’’ He and Thea were seated together on a log along the path; their uniforms were waterproof, so the light dusting of snow that covered the thick branch hardly mattered.

‘‘Hmm, that’s surprising—I can’t seem to help myself!’’ Thea laughed. ‘‘Rather ironic, don’t you think? I have no mate, but cycle like mad—whereas you’ve taken a wife, and can’t seem to figure it out.’’

He growled slightly in dismay, unable to contain his sheer embarrassment at the discussion topic. Thea laughed softly. ‘‘Cousin, don’t look so mortified. It’s natural. It doesn’t get more natural for the two of us.’’

‘‘Then why is it such a problem for me?’’ he cried in despair, burying his face in his hands. ‘‘I-I shouldn’t need this talk or coaching. It should be as easy as my Change!’’

‘‘You mentioned something the other day,’’ she answered, softly touching his shoulder. ‘‘About how you met Kelsey the summer of your awakening—and then she was taken from you.’’

‘‘The elders,’’ he despaired. ‘‘They were behind the separation. I wanted to come back for her, but . . . they wiped the memories. I never knew, never remembered until I found her again.’’

‘‘Exactly, Jared, exactly!’’ Thea said, clapping her hands.

‘‘You find that significant?’’

‘‘You were beginning your first cycle—that’s what our awakening means. I remember my own awakening was almost unbearable, and I was kept entirely in seclusion. If I’d found someone I cared about, well . . . I can only imagine the intensity of it.’’

‘‘I wanted her desperately—I don’t remember that much about our time together, just shadows and half thoughts—but I know how much I wanted her. We were barely more than children, but it was intense and strong.’’

‘‘So what I believe, Jared, is that you stifled those feelings. Fought them. Battled them away out of desperation after you left Earth.’’ She paused significantly, reaching a hand to touch his cheek. ‘‘And you’ve never allowed them since.’’

He gasped, staring at her. It was so incredibly obvious, yet it had never even crossed his mind in the past weeks. ‘‘I-I almost,’’ he stammered, ‘‘almost managed it . . . a few nights ago. Our marriage night, but then . . .’’ His voice trailed off.

‘‘It stopped?’’

He nodded, rubbing his throat.

Beside him, he felt a quiver of energy; Thea watched him. ‘‘Jared, it’s not that hard.’’ she laughed gently. ‘‘Well, it
is
that hard, at least for the male of our kind. But getting there shouldn’t be. Not for a strapping warrior like you.’’

He growled at her, saying nothing more, and never looking in her direction. ‘‘Cousin!’’ she exclaimed, clasping his arm. ‘‘You love her. She
loves
you. From all the evidence that I can see, you two have a stunning sex life.’’

What did his cousin know about their lovemaking? Nothing. ‘‘Ah, and what have you seen?’’ he asked with a laugh intended to dismiss her words of encouragement.

She faced him. ‘‘That you glow. Sometimes, after you’ve made love with each other. Did you know that?’’

He turned to her, mouth agape. ‘‘Certainly not!’’ Well, the night they’d first mated, of course, but not after that.

She waved off his embarrassment. ‘‘Oh, nobody else sees it, cousin,’’ she said dismissively. ‘‘Well, maybe some of the other intuitives, they might have. But you shouldn’t feel awkward—it’s beautiful, Jared. The two of you really do glow. It radiates off you, the way you’ve made one another feel.’’ Thea’s face had assumed a look of wonder—and was completely devoid of any jealousy.

‘‘I worry sometimes, Thea,’’ he nearly whispered, finally meeting her gaze full-on.

‘‘About what?’’

‘‘Perhaps I suppressed it for too long,’’ he admitted. ‘‘Perhaps I avoided my cycles for so many years—did anything I could
not
to have them—well, maybe I’m beyond achieving them now. Maybe I’m ruined that way.’’

‘‘Then it’s gone dormant, but it’s not dead, Jared,’’ she said. ‘‘You are still what you are. Your people have always experienced the heat to the greatest degree—much more than my kin. You just have to let the urges overtake you.’’

‘‘Is that how it works?’’ he asked, feeling oddly inexperienced and innocent. ‘‘It just . . . comes upon me?’’

‘‘Jared!’’

He clutched at his head in frustration. ‘‘Thea, I
don’t
know!’’ There, he’d said it. He felt his face burn, and averted his eyes from his cousin’s pointed stare. ‘‘I know nothing about how this works.’’

‘‘How could you not? Hasn’t anyone ever talked to you about these things?’’

He sprang to his feet, pacing in agitation. ‘‘Who would have spoken of it? Who would dare school the king about his sexual urges, dear cousin? No one. No one has ever taught me anything!’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘I’ve no idea what to expect or what it takes. I am an utter virgin in this regard.’’

She stared up at him sympathetically. ‘‘Oh, cousin, do sit down, please.’’ She patted the place beside her.

‘‘Please help me understand it.’’ He dropped heavily beside her. They’d discussed many uncomfortable topics during their years of fighting together, but nothing that had ever approached this level of intimacy. Jared trained his entire focus on his boots and the snow. ‘‘Tell me more, cousin,’’ he begged. ‘‘Please.’’

‘‘Yes, it does just come upon you, absolutely.’’

‘‘Tell me what it feels like,’’ he urged, glancing at her shyly. ‘‘What to expect, when it begins.’’ He thought of that night when she’d brought the fever upon herself, the way it had stirred him slightly—and of the night of his sealing to Kelsey. They’d come so close then; he’d been certain he was entering his season—until the letter from Marco had disrupted what was beginning, pulling him apart from Kelsey.