Parallel Heat (7 page)

‘‘No, I’m not,’’ Scott agreed in a subdued voice.

Marek indicated Thea with a slight movement of his hand. ‘‘Our business isn’t with you, Dillon—it’s with her.’’

Thea’s heartbeat increased, a rushing noise filling her ears. ‘‘What about me?’’ she heard herself ask breathlessly.

‘‘We’ve always made the royal families our business,’’ Marek answered with a nonchalant shrug. ‘‘And you are naturally part of that concern.’’

‘‘All right, cut to the chase,’’ Scott insisted with a scowl. ‘‘Who the hell are you people and what is your position?’’

‘‘We’re Madjin,’’ Marek answered with an obvious flash of pride. ‘‘For all our lives, it’s the only thing we’ve ever been.’’

Thea felt her face burn hot. The Madjin no longer existed—couldn’t possibly exist, not in any universe or on any planet. An elite, prestigious band of royal protectors, they had guarded the king and his family for thousands of years. When the revolution had begun, the Antousians decimated their small circles—or at least the pitiful remnant that had managed to survive so many years of war already. The last of them, Jared’s personal protector Sabrina, had vanished two decades ago, and no one—despite Jared’s tireless efforts to locate the woman—had ever heard from her again.

‘‘Th-that’s not possible,’’ Thea stammered, glancing toward Scott whose own face had seemingly drained of color. ‘‘The Madjin are dead.’’

This time it was Marek’s companion who smiled, something bright sparking in his eyes. ‘‘You’d be surprised just how alive we are,’’ he said with a quiet laugh. ‘‘And we can prove it to you—quite easily, as a matter of fact.’’

‘‘How can you prove it?’’ Thea demanded. The ways of the Madjin were so secret, so sacrosanct, that no one had much reliable knowledge about them. ‘‘We know almost nothing about the Madjin,’’ she continued, ‘‘which makes proving your claim more than a little problematic.’’

Marek glanced between them with an intent expression. ‘‘Simple,’’ he said. ‘‘Take us to your base and allow us a meeting with the commander. That’s how you’ll know we’re legitimate.’’

‘‘Oh, I just bet you’d love that,’’ Scott said, his voice cold and precise.

‘‘It’s the only way you’ll ever really know,’’ Marek persisted. ‘‘Because there’s just one man who can authenticate our identities for you, and that’s Jared Bennett.’’

Chapter Four

Marco lay wedged across the bench seat of the Suburban, both hands tied roughly behind his back. Thea Haven had done the honors with her very own belt, both she and Dillon insisting on the measure for security reasons. She’d wrangled them into prone positions—Riley on the floorboard, Marco sprawled face-first across the seat—all the maneuvering an effort to protect them from discovering the compound’s position. Neither he nor Riley had bothered explaining that they already knew the location of Jared’s compound; hell, they could have guided everyone there blindfolded.

Even now as Dillon took turns obviously intended to mislead them, Marco found himself wanting to explain the futility of their plan. But he didn’t. He remained with his face pressing into the artificial leather seat, wishing that Lieutenant Haven would move much, much closer. As it was, she sat behind him, leaning over the bench so that her pistol pressed into his lower back—which, unsettling as it might have been, didn’t feel nearly close enough.

The woman did things to him, strange, alien things that left his mind muddled and his body titillated. Thank All he was facedown so she couldn’t see the very obvious bulge in the front of his jeans, an eager erection he’d gotten the instant she fastened his hands behind his back. He told himself it was something about the belt, something about her roping him up like her very own steer that had turned him on this wildly.
You always were into bondage, Thea baby,
some distant voice hummed in his mind.
That’s you, my little wildcat—you need that control.

Pressing his eyes shut, he felt a headache swell, causing bright spots to fill his darkened vision. He had never met Thea Haven before in his life; sure, he’d had her under surveillance on plenty of occasions, even followed her when duty required it. But until tonight he had never once gazed into those clear, vibrant blue eyes. Eyes that had spoken volumes to him, wooed him closer, promised lifetimes of seduction. His swollen, aching erection pushed harder into the seat as he remembered. As he allowed the sensations he’d experienced earlier in the bar to fan to life all over again.

The Suburban made a series of turns, and Thea—for reasons he wasn’t even sure of—dug the barrel of her weapon into his lower back with even more force. All of a sudden it seemed he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There were only the swimming memories of something he had never once experienced in all his almost thirty years, not with any woman, not on any planet: He was remembering making love. And with Thea Haven, of all people, one of his protected.

Gasping, he fought the rising tide of nausea that always accompanied these blinding headaches.
What in All’s name is this?
he wondered, cursing his strange abilities that sometimes left him open to this kind of sensation.
What am I picking up on about her? She’s D’Ashani, utterly out of my league.

But he knew it wasn’t imagination, or even foreknowledge; the impressions and emotions were far too brilliant, unlike anything he’d ever felt before in his life. It took all his resolve not to simply roll onto his back and grab the woman, pulling her atop him with enough force to knock the gun from her hand. Then, and only then, he would cover her mouth hungrily with his own. Tasting of her, taking her, knowing her. It hardly mattered that in this imagined scenario, the pulse pistol would have already destroyed his spinal column and obliterated his internal organs. Good thing it wasn’t an actual plan.
Just a desire
, he thought,
and I’ve mastered plenty of them as a Madjin warrior.

On the floorboard beneath him he heard Riley’s steady breathing. His brother was nothing if not a cool customer. Damn it all, but the guy would probably fall fucking asleep during the drive back to the Refarian compound. Then again, Marco had no doubt that Riley was happily connected with his lifemate, rattling along in deep, soulful conversation with her across their shared bond. Lucky bastard. He never had to be alone, not like Marco did. Marco had long ago accepted the hand he’d been dealt. He would never mate or even take a lover. Which meant that this insane attraction to the D’Ashani woman was out of the question. The emotions and memories—for surely that’s what they were—had the material air of something experienced. Not pre-known, not imagined. But the pulsing life force of real events. The question was . . . how was something like that even possible?

The blinding headache tightened hard behind his eyes, and with it, a wash of memories came over him.

How could you have slept with him?
he demanded, rounding on her in a dark, abandoned warehouse.
How could you have betrayed me like that?

She laughed, a cold, lost sound that caused something hard to lodge in his chest.
You don’t think this is love, do you, Marco?
She released a slow, jeering laugh.
Not with you of all people.

Of course not,
he said.
You’re not capable of it.

Shaking his head, he tried to beat back the tide of half memories, determined to battle away the onslaught. Perhaps this was a trick of their enemy, a strategy meant to divide them before their full circle could form completely around their king and queen. And they did have a queen now; he knew it because of Riley’s intel from within the camp.

Although Sabrina hadn’t authorized this first contact between the Madjin and their protected tonight, they had always been taught to improvise on an ad hoc basis. What other recourse had they been given, based on the unexpected meeting in the bar? None. So what if the elders’ timetable for initial contact was still a good two years out; the Madjin were needed, now more than ever with Jared having taken his human wife. So no matter what objections Sabrina might raise tomorrow, he stood by this plan.

Dillon took another series of wrong turns, a true waste of time in Marco’s mind. So he muttered against the seat, citing the precise location of the secluded mountain cabin where their king made his earthly home.

‘‘Holy hell,’’ Scott cursed from the front seat. ‘‘What’s even the point?’’

Thea leapt over the seat that separated them, straddling Marco. ‘‘You tell us who you are,’’ she shouted, digging the barrel of her weapon into his back. ‘‘Right now!’’

‘‘My name is Marco McKinley,’’ he stated calmly, feeling her tight thighs flex around his body. ‘‘Personal protector and guardian to the king. J’Areshkadau Bnet D’Aravni is my sovereign, same as he is yours.’’

For a long moment silence hung heavy in the vehicle’s interior, with only the sound of Thea’s rapid breaths punctuating the quiet. At last she asked in a much quieter voice, ‘‘Then who is Marek Sheakai? Why did I hear that name in the bar?’’ Thea cocked her pistol, shoving it between his shoulder blades.

For a moment he concentrated on her, on the feel of her lithe, compact body atop his rangy one, on the awareness of her scent filling his nostrils, nearly intoxicating him. Gods, she was an amazing woman—but completely off-limits to someone like him.

When he failed to answer, she drew in an unsteady breath. ‘‘Tell. Me. Why,’’ she demanded, accenting each word with a jab of her pistol.

Finally he answered her question, in a voice so low only she would hear. ‘‘I have no idea why you heard his name, Lieutenant,’’ he said softly. ‘‘But trust me when I tell you that he’s dead, and he hardly matters tonight.’’

‘‘He matters to me,’’ she breathed.

‘‘A dead man,’’ he repeated. ‘‘Let’s leave it at that, but you may call
me
Marco. And I am your protector too, my lady. I serve all the royal families.’’

‘‘You said you served Jared—that you’re his personal protector.’’

‘‘That’s true,’’ he murmured against the seat. ‘‘But if you know the Madjin, you know we serve you all.’’

‘‘Prove it,’’ she said, pressing her palm into the small of his back. Every cell within his body reacted, a cascade of heat showering to his extremities. ‘‘You prove it now, before we get to Jared.’’

He could think of nothing except the feel of her fingers splayed against his body. His simple flannel shirt seemed nothing more than a ridiculously thin membrane, a flimsy barrier between their two flushed bodies. He swallowed hard, his eyes drifting shut. He knew what she wanted to hear; it was a sort of first-level proof to any of the royals they served, something no one outside the Madjin Circle could possibly know.

He would give Thea Haven the proof she wanted.
‘‘R’thasme siet falne,’’
he murmured reverentially. He’d not uttered those words since the day they’d inducted him into the Circle, and the hair on the nape of his neck bristled at his own quiet pronouncement. For a moment, she said nothing at all, though he sensed a kind of tension release from her body.

‘‘In All’s name,’’ she finally muttered. ‘‘You’ve been telling us the truth. You’re exactly what you claim to be.’’

‘‘Unless I’m lying,’’ he teased in a low, growling voice. ‘‘And then we’re all damned to hell.’’

‘‘Marco McKinley, I still have a gun,’’ she said, pushing the barrel into his shoulders again. ‘‘Madjin or not, you’ve got a lot of questions to answer.’’

‘‘At your service, Lieutenant Haven. Completely at your service.’’

If only he didn’t wish to
service
her in such wicked, impossible ways, he thought with a miserable sigh—and if only he could rid himself of his raging, painfully obvious hard-on before they arrived at the compound.

 
‘‘Okay, Jared, I admit it,’’ Kelsey said, pulling the sheet over her breasts. ‘‘I have no clue what this letter really means. What’s this ‘Beloved of Refaria’ stuff? And how could this guy possibly be telling the truth? I mean, time travel . . . a letter from the future? It’s insane.’’

He paced the room, stripping out of his bulletproof vest. ‘‘Hasn’t everything between us always been slightly insane?’’

‘‘Don’t even go there.’’

‘‘But you get my point, love,’’ he insisted, stepping closer. ‘‘There are many things about my life here on Earth—and what I’ve told you about life on Refaria—that defy logic as you’ve always understood it.’’

‘‘This letter flies in the face of everything I know as a scientist,’’ she said, waving the sheet of paper at him. ‘‘Time travel is possible—at least in theory—but nobody on
my
planet has come close to harnessing that kind of power.’’

He took the letter from her hands. ‘‘That you know of.’’

‘‘That we know of, yes.’’ She felt unsettled beyond description. Why was it that with every passing day her new husband managed to further unravel the fabric of her world?

Jared settled his hip on the bed beside her. ‘‘Naturally I’d like to dismiss the authenticity of the document,’’ he said evenly. ‘‘But there are too many aspects that beg serious consideration. For one thing, the reference to that prophecy about the Beloved of Refaria, and another because the author knows about the mitres data within your mind—’’

‘‘Other people in your camp know about that.’’

‘‘No,’’ he said simply, ‘‘they do not. Only Thea, Scott, and Anika possess that knowledge.’’

She chose her next words carefully, tucking the bed-sheet beneath her chin as she thought. ‘‘Maybe it’s all some kind of ploy to divide us or something. What makes you so sure Thea wouldn’t have done this?’’

‘‘No, not Thea. Not ever.’’ He shook his head in vehement denial. ‘‘She’s unfailingly loyal, most particularly to me.’’

‘‘But she loves you, Jared—and you did choose me. That could shake even the strongest relationship.’’

‘‘It wasn’t her,’’ he barked, and Kelsey couldn’t help but smart at his defensive tone.

She persisted, ‘‘Then what about Scott? Or Anika? You’ll have to question people whose loyalty you’ve never doubted before. Some of your people are dead set against me, Jared. We both know it—just think about the elders, and how they erased our memories of each other. There’s no way you can be sure that someone—someone
loyal
—wouldn’t try something just to separate us a second time.’’