Parallel Heat (41 page)

‘‘Marco, wait!’’ Sabrina reached for him, but he shrugged off her grasp.

‘‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you,’’ he told her icily. ‘‘I’m not sure I ever will.’’

He pushed open the meeting room door with both palms, so hard that it slammed against the exterior wall, and wondered how in the hell he’d ever face his near-mate again. Much less marry her the next day as he’d hoped.

Chapter Twenty-five

As was custom for the women of her family, Thea spent the night before her wedding alone, choosing to sleep at the stone guesthouse. The place had always been her private refuge, tonight more than ever. The outside temperature was unseasonably warm, the dark sky overhead netted with twinkling stars. It made a perfect night to sit on the outside steps and simply stare at the heavens: Somewhere far beyond what her eyes could see was her home. But after tomorrow, Marco would become her
true
home, the one central point in her universe.

The light from the windows shone brightly on the steps and surrounding ground. She withdrew a small journal from where she’d stowed it beside her. She’d come here in search of the diary, really, when she could have spent a private night in her quarters. She flipped through the pages, studying the familiar inky scrawl that belonged to Prince Arienn. In some ways—and for many years—he’d been her secret lover. She’d even fantasized about somehow traveling through time via the mitres and declaring her love for him. But based on what? Reading his innermost thoughts and ideas . . . his very dreams. It had always been an infatuation, a way to bide her time while she was waiting for Jared to simply wake up. And now everything she’d imagined for herself had been turned topsy-turvy; every fantasy, every dream remade by one gorgeous Madjin warrior. Her true soulmate.

She shivered at the thought, tracing her fingertip over Arienn’s loopy handwriting; in a sense, he represented the last remnants of her childish youth, and she’d come to tell her once-cousin farewell. Reading over his journal entry, she found herself falling under the same strange spell she’d felt in the mitres chamber a few days earlier. That eerie sense that somehow the man still lived.

Arienn had been a D’Aravni, same as Jared—and the thing that still perplexed her was how drawn she always felt to the men of that line. It had always been as if something were writ into her DNA, her very soul, compelling her toward Jared—even toward her fantasy of Arienn. And then Marco had exploded into her life, altering everything, opening her eyes to what love, in all its many incarnations, truly meant. It made her lifelong compulsions fade into nothing. Still, no matter how much she loved Marco, she felt jittery and on edge; tomorrow night she would give him her body, her soul, her energy. It was an awe-inspiring, arousing thought—and it unsettled her as much as it thrilled her.

Speak to me, cousin,
she whispered inside, staring at Arienn’s journal.
Please help me calm my gyrating emotions.
Drawing in a deep breath, she began to read:

 
Oh, cousin,
she thought,
I understand totally
. She’d always known Arienn had mated with a human; it had been the one secret she’d kept as her own. No one else had ever read his more intimate journals, and she’d preferred it that way. Although Marco was obviously not human, he certainly wasn’t a dual being, so she shared some of Arienn’s marital discomfort. The only difference was that Marco had already glimpsed her true nature, and had reacted with verve and arousal. And he loved her—
all
of her!

These fears are insane,
she reassured herself.
He knows exactly what I am.

Giving her head a slight shake, she pushed the thoughts from her mind, but then a rustling sound on the trail set her adrenaline flowing. Fumbling with her hip holster, she reached for her weapon, sniffing at the air, but Kelsey appeared from the copse of trees.

‘‘You need to really be careful about that,’’ Thea called out as the human approached. ‘‘I nearly pulled a weapon on you.’’

Kelsey appeared stricken. ‘‘Oh, man!’’ she blurted, hands extended. ‘‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’’

Thea stared back at the woman strangely. ‘‘I am not a man.’’

‘‘That’s . . . what we’d call a language barrier.’’ Kelsey laughed. ‘‘It’s just an expression.’’

‘‘I was about to fire your head off.’’ Thea gave her a grudging smile. ‘‘I have a feeling Jared wouldn’t have appreciated that.’’

Kelsey returned her smile. ‘‘It might have ruined your wedding day too.’’

‘‘Good chance of that.’’

Kelsey strolled closer. ‘‘I know you’re supposed to be alone tonight and all that—and I’m not going to stick around—’’

‘‘It’s all right.’’

‘‘No, seriously, it’s part of the tradition, that’s what Jared said, but I just wanted to come . . .’’ Her voice trailed off, a furrow forming between her auburn eyebrows.

‘‘Come and do what?’’ Thea prompted, closing Arienn’s journal where it still rested on her knees.

Kelsey drew in a breath, then plopped down beside her on the step. ‘‘I wanted to come tell you that I’m happy for you—truly happy for you. And that you’ve got our blessing. Jared wanted to tell you that,’’ she rushed, ‘‘but didn’t want to make you, well, uncomfortable. Still, we know that Madjin tradition means we’re supposed to bless the union, so that’s . . . what I’m here to do.’’

Thea couldn’t hide her smile of approval. ‘‘You’re doing really well with this, you know.’’

‘‘Well with . . . ?’’

‘‘Stepping into the role of our queen. You have a lovely manner, a way of putting people at ease.’’

Kelsey frowned. ‘‘You don’t have to say that.’’

‘‘You’re right, I don’t.’’

For a moment Kelsey’s lips parted, and it was evident she wasn’t sure what to make of Thea’s reply—until it hit her that she genuinely meant the compliment.

Quietly bowing her head, Kelsey confessed, ‘‘I feel totally over my head. I keep going through all the appropriate motions, hoping I figure things out along the way.’’

‘‘You saved all of us in the chamber—your entire world. If they only knew, they’d revere you.’’

‘‘It’s crazy complicated, all this knowledge in my head, and trying to figure out how to be the kind of queen Jared needs, especially with—’’ Kelsey clamped her mouth shut abruptly, but Thea knew exactly what she’d been about to say.

Clearing her throat, Thea took hold of Arienn’s journal, and wordlessly slid it into Kelsey’s hands. Her queen examined it quizzically, turning curious eyes on her.

‘‘It’s something I planned to give you—after tomorrow, but really, I don’t need it anymore.’’

Kelsey nodded, slowly fanning through the journal’s pages; it was written entirely in Refarian, and she traced a sentence with her fingertip, struggling to translate. Still, Thea was astounded at her growing mastery of their language. ‘‘You’ll be able to read that in no time,’’ she observed.

‘‘But what is it, Thea? I don’t understand—it looks really old.’’

‘‘It was written about two hundred years ago.’’

‘‘Is it a historic text or something?’’ Kelsey extended the journal back to her as if it was a hot strake stone and she didn’t want to be scalded.

Gently, Thea pushed her hand away. ‘‘You need it, Kelsey—really need it, both of you. It belonged to Prince Arienn, his journal.’’

‘‘The one who seeded his essence into the mitres?’’ Kelsey’s bright, intelligent eyes lit with understanding.

‘‘He was a D’Aravni, and he took a human mate—nobody knows that, by the way. Only me.’’

‘‘And you’re sharing that knowledge with me?’’ Kelsey whispered in appreciation.

Again, Thea cleared her throat, feeling her face flush with embarrassment. ‘‘I think there’s a lot of good information in there, Kelsey—things that will help you with’’—she coughed awkwardly—‘‘well, your procreation issues.’’

Kelsey clutched the diary against her chest, avoiding Thea’s gaze. ‘‘I see,’’ she answered quietly.

‘‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of, what you’re facing with Jared.’’

‘‘No, I’m freaking mortified. You aren’t going to be able to recast that.’’

‘‘Arienn and his human mate struggled too—but they conceived a child.’’

Kelsey turned tear-filled eyes on her. ‘‘You’re not serious?’’

It wasn’t an expression that Thea entirely understood, but she nodded vigorously. ‘‘I am
entirely
serious.’’

Kelsey’s face crumpled and her tears fell freely. ‘‘I’ve been so terrified . . . that . . .’’ She shook her head, wiping wordlessly at her tears.

Thea turned until her knees pushed into Kelsey’s. ‘‘I’m intuitive, Kelsey,’’ she told her firmly. ‘‘He will cycle. And you will conceive a child together.’’

Her queen bowed her head then, saying nothing for a very long time. Thea had to smile to herself; Kelsey had come to give her blessing on the union, but what her queen had wound up bestowing was something far more precious—a moment of pure trust and friendship. It was something she’d known so little of during her life.

And it gave Thea a wondrous, expectant feeling about her wedding day.

 
Really, the painkillers meant shit. A crude human word, but one that Scott found to be pointedly accurate.
Meshdki,
he corrected.
The drugs meant
meshdki.

There, man,
he thought,
keep yourself true to your own
people.
Gods above, he’d even begun to think like the human species.

The medics were maintaining a safe perimeter around him anyway, seeing as how every time they appeared at his bedside he cursed them in low Refarian. Oh, he would likely mend—that’s what his doctors had reported, and although he believed them, the facts provided very little comfort. Not while he lay here, flat on his back, counting the ceiling tiles as the war waged on—and his best friend fought without him by his side.

He shifted uncomfortably in the bed, hitting the buttons impatiently to elevate his head as far as the doctors would allow, until he finally collapsed into the pillows again, exhausted, issuing another stream of Refarian
and
English curses.

The events of the past days still haunted him, hounded him, and the only fact he kept returning to was that he’d nearly died. And a human—a human woman, of all creatures—had saved his pitiful life. That was something to think about for many moons to come.

‘‘I see you’re up.’’

Startled, he swung his gaze toward the doorway. As if he’d literally summoned her into existence, there stood his fair-headed human angel, Hope Harper. He pulled his bruised and swollen mouth into something approximating a smile.

‘‘You’re recovering?’’ she asked, stepping into his hospital room.

‘‘Barely.’’

Struggling to sit up, he finally lost that battle by the time she reached his bedside. He noticed that she didn’t wear a new pair of glasses. Didn’t she need them?

‘‘You’re looking good,’’ she said, glancing toward his face, yet not really looking
at
him. ‘‘You seem to feel better.’’

He laughed. ‘‘I feel like crap, and am told I look even worse.’’

‘‘You look fine to me.’’ She smiled, her nose crinkling with what, he had to admit, was an adorable expression.

Suddenly, his legs began to ache worse, as if by the simple fact of Hope being near him, his body remembered the trauma he’d suffered when last by her side.

‘‘I owe you my life.’’ He sank back into the pillows.

Standing by his bed, she waved him off. ‘‘Oh, please.’’ Her gaze dropped toward the floor.

‘‘Hope, seriously. I’d be dead right now if you hadn’t rescued my ass.’’

A faint, self-conscious smile played at her lips. ‘‘You
know
I’d do it again any day of the week.’’

You’re my angel, sweet Hope.
That’s what he wanted to say, but instead he could only think to grumble about his nearly nonexistent pain meds. ‘‘They don’t do much for you here,’’ he said, fiddling with the bed controls. ‘‘I think it’s some sort of endurance training.’’

Her eyes lit up, and she glanced upward again, not quite meeting his gaze. ‘‘Are you making the grade?’’

‘‘I don’t know, ask those guys.’’ He pointed toward the hallway, but she didn’t look. An awkward silence spun between them, and he sensed there was something on her mind.

‘‘Want to sit down?’’ he finally suggested, and she nodded, dropping into the chair at his bedside.

She folded both of her hands neatly in her lap, but said nothing.

‘‘Something on your mind, Harper?’’

She opened her mouth, then clamped it shut again, clearly second-guessing herself. Instead she asked: ‘‘Lieutenant, anything I can get you? Is there anything you need?’’

Evasive maneuver; he recognized that one. He leaned back and studied her. She was a beautiful woman, yet nothing like the many human women he’d slept with in the past six years. Those women tended to be wild and a little bit rough, whereas she was soft all over, with golden hair that seemed to glow and fair skin that was nearly translucent. Hope Harper was ethereal, and he had a hard time reconciling that with the woman who’d helped him fire off twenty rounds against the Antousians just three nights ago.

‘‘Why’d you come, Harper?’’

Her head shot upward in surprise. ‘‘Is it a problem? Should I go?’’

‘‘Just curious, that’s all.’’ He shrugged. Yeah, he was completely indifferent. He wondered if she’d buy that charade.