Primal Heat (15 page)

He reached between them, flicking a single claw over her clit with a delicacy that sent her tumbling over the edge. Her muscles locked around him, her sex clenching on nothingness while her anus tightened on his thrusting cock. It stung that he still moved in her, it took her beyond any definition she had of pleasure and pain, and it sent her into another wave of orgasm. She shattered, her screams reverberating in the metal room.

His deep roar echoed her cries, his big body tensing in a tight arc as he slammed his cock into her one last time and jetted his cum into her ass. A long groan pulled from him as his muscles shook, his hips still pumping. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, chest heaving as he gulped in ragged breaths. “Oh, yes. Bren. My Bren.”

No. She wasn't his and he wasn't hers. They never would be. He had a One out there somewhere, and so she would lose him, one way or another. A pang hit her chest and she closed her eyes. God, it hurt to think of losing him, of leaving him, of him leaving her. There was no good solution to their relationship. If that was even the word to use. They were…
friends
, though she hesitated before applying such an innocuous label to something as volatile as they had. They fought, they laughed, they fucked. It wasn't about species, biology, or even chemistry. It was him. Farid. Hot and cold, kind and protective, hard and rough. She hated to think of a time without him. A bitter smile curved her lips. Her own future was so up in the air, she might not live long enough to deal with a future without him.

She loved him.

God, why did admitting that to herself burn so fucking badly? It was like a wound she didn't think could ever heal.

She loved him, and even if she survived all that was coming, even if Kyber helped her, even if Arthur was stopped, she
still
couldn't have Farid. His place was with his people, and her place was with hers, helping in whatever way she could. She couldn't leave, and he couldn't stay.

And even then, it wasn't that simple. Not for his kind. She loved him, but he'd never said a word about permanency. Why would he? He was just passing the time with her until he gave in and found that thing that all Kith seemed to be looking for, the thing that had brought them to Earth in the first place.

A One.

A shudder racked her body when he withdrew from her ass. “I've lost your attention again,
khalaa.
Tell me what you were thinking of.”

The truth spilled from her lips. “You. Just you.”

“I like that.” His tone was smug, and she pinched him, which just made him chuckle.

She smiled in response and collapsed against him, utterly spent. The water cut off a few moments later, leaving nothing but the sound of their too rapid breathing. She sighed and unwound her legs from his waist, but he didn't set her down. He shifted her in his embrace and lifted her against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder, curled her arms around his neck, and closed her eyes. “Mmm…that was fun.”

His chuckle was a low vibration against her cheek. “I'm delighted you thought so. We'll have to do it again soon.”

Something about that tugged at the back of her mind, some warning about planning for the future, but she was too tired to care, too content to take notice. Right here, right now was where she wanted to be most. The steady beat of his heart under her ear lulled her, and she let go of everything else, drifting as he carried her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “Whatever you say.”

“Ah, bliss.” He rested his chin on top of her head. “I've finally found what makes you pliant and agreeable.”

She giggled, but the sound was soft and sleepy even to her own ears. She'd never felt so warm, so comfortable, so safe. If this feeling never went away, she wouldn't regret it. A tiny part of her knew he wouldn't be there when she woke up, that this moment of renewed closeness they were having would disappear as it had when they'd reached the Kith ship. She shut that thought out. It was stupid, but she needed the fantasy for just a little while longer. Reality would only bring suffering and death. Hers and others. Farid laid her down on something supple that molded to her body, but she was too tired to open her eyes to see what it was.

His lips brushed her forehead, making her smile. “Sleep now, my O—”

She was out before he finished the sentence.

 

Farid was almost grateful to escape to his office after being poked and prodded by the medics. He considered going back to his quarters but didn't want to face his bed alone. He'd much rather join Bren in her room, but testing the link with her revealed she was deep in dreams. If he went to her, he'd end up taking her, and he knew she needed sleep.

He sighed and sank into his desk chair, rubbing his fully healed shoulder. He hadn't realized how much the wound nagged at him until it was gone. He stretched the kinks out of his arms and prepared to catch up on the work he'd left behind and bury himself in the quagmire of Suen-Earth politics. It was a mess, but at least one he understood, one he had some hope of bringing some order to someday, especially if Kyber could be convinced to join Bren's cause.

The situation between Bren and Farid was one he didn't know how to handle. He shouldn't have touched her again but hadn't been able to keep himself from reaching for her when he saw her standing there, alone and scared, and pretending she was in control. She would have convinced anyone but him—he knew her too well now, loved her too deeply to leave her when she needed him. It was hopeless. He felt as if the weight of an entire warship rested on his chest, choking the breath from him. Love meant no control, and no control meant dancing on the edge of disaster and praying not to fall. Foolish.
Hopeless.
He closed his eyes, shook his head, and forced himself back to the task at hand.

Tapping his fingers lightly over the hologram his imager automatically projected to hover over his desk, Farid set to work. Pictures and words flashed before him, too fast for him to decipher where one left off and the next began, but they stored in his mind to be processed by his psychic power. He opened a connection to this portal of the
Vishra
, sinking in to the information. News reports from all over Earth, information on their Internet, hundreds of languages, thousands of documents, millions of words. They streamed into the open conduit of his mind.

“Lord Arjun.”

He jolted free of the connection with the ship, the abruptness of the loss a painful wrenching in his mind. He swayed in his seat, pressing his palms flat against the desktop to keep himself upright. He blinked hard, focusing on the man before him.

Johar Sajan stood in the doorway dressed in his Imperial Guardian uniform. He inclined his head slightly, his braids falling around his shoulders. “I apologize for disturbing you.”

“Come in, please.” Wariness slid through Farid, but he motioned for Johar to sit in a chair opposite his desk. “What may I help you with?”

“Nothing, my lord.” The Guardian sat, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair. “I've instructed the
Vishra
to have your human meet us here when the medics are done attending to her minor injuries from your forest escapades.”

“Why do you need to speak to both of us?”

“I don't, my lord.” The man's gaze roved about the room, a hum of energy around him that he couldn't contain. “The emperor demands your presence, and my captain has tasked me with escorting you down to the planet.”

“I see. We'll…wait here for Bren then.” To give himself something to do, Farid pushed away from his desk and stood, walking over to a reproducer unit in his wall and calling for two canisters of
paayal
. The fiery drink should mellow them, since this was likely to be an awkward experience for both men.

“It shouldn't be long.” Johar accepted the canister and crossed his long legs at the ankles.

Farid resumed his seat and took a deep drink, wincing as the acidic bite of flavor hit his taste buds. His belly cramped as he tried not to stare at the man who looked so much like Cilji's One. A man who, despite his youth, had changed Farid's view of the world forever. He swallowed and groped for the first topic he could think of. “How is everything with Tylara?”

The Guardian's expression flattened. “It's…complicated.”

“Ah.” Farid shifted in his seat, at a loss for words for one of the few moments in his life. A reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he recalled Bren's assertion that small talk was his profession. He wasn't doing well today.

Johar took a deep swallow of his
payaal
. “I've heard Preston is here to ask the emperor to have Arthur removed from power.”

“Word gets around fast.” Farid saluted the other man with his canister, though his nerves jangled even more at moving the conversation from Johar's One to Farid's.

“I hope she succeeds in convincing him.”

He blinked, startled by the sudden vehemence in the man's voice. “Oh?”

“My father was the first officer on the
Anshar
—it's why I volunteered for this expedition rather than remain with the Imperial Guardians tasked with protecting the Empress Dowager.” Johar's smile was a chilling thing to see. “I would like nothing more than to repay the Earthan general in kind for his barbarism. And they call my family animals.”

Farid ran his finger around the rim of his canister. “I am sorry for your loss, Sajan.”

The words should have been mere reflex, but he found that they were true. Johar, like Farid, was now the last of his line. He could sympathize with what that would do to a man. For the first time, he looked at Johar and saw…a person. Like Bren and her change from seeing the Sueni as her enemies to seeing them as people like her, Farid now looked at Johar the same way. They were nothing alike, he and this man, and yet they had everything in common. It was unsettling.

“And I for yours, all those years ago.” Johar's gaze was open, his words frank. “I was…angry for a long time over the loss of my brothers. The twins were too young to have died.”

“As was my sister. She was wrong to do what she did.” He could understand holding on to such anger. He had done the same. He drained the last of his
payaal
. “I'm sorry for that, too.”

Johar shook his head, the intensity of his feelings making his fangs emerge. “And I'm sorry for what happened to your mother. She was a good woman, and she was only trying to help.”

“We could keep apologizing all day.”

The Guardian gave a bark of laughter and a wide smile, his emotions far closer to the surface than Farid's—but that was the way of the Sajans—it didn't make
this
Sajan the monster Farid had painted in his mind. Perhaps it was knowing Bren, having her transition to a friend and a lover, that made Farid see so clearly. If he could not blame Bren for being one of Arthur's people, he could not blame Johar for being one of the Sajans. Neither of them was guilty by association, just as Farid was not to blame for what Cilji had done. He could see on Johar's face that he didn't hold Farid responsible, and for that he was far more grateful than he would ever have guessed. Something inside him loosened, crumbled. Somehow, when he wasn't looking, the burn of anger had finally guttered out of Farid's soul. He knew he had Bren to thank for the change within him. His One.

Anun, but he loved the woman. She deserved far better than the half-lies he'd told her so far. He owed her the truth, even if he wasn't certain he could let go of control enough to bond with her. It still terrified him, the thought of losing those he had the deepest bonds with again. He wasn't sure he could ever overcome that.

The Guardian leaned forward to set his empty canister on Farid's desk, then braced his forearms on his knees. “My One likes you, respects you. She is your friend. I have no desire to make that friendship difficult for her.”

“Nor would I wish to come between a friend and her One.” Farid nodded to the other man. He doubted the two of them would ever be friends—their personalities were too divergent—but he saw no reason for them to hold on to hostilities over events that neither of them had had any say in. It was a relief to be able to set something so painful where it finally belonged. In the past.

“If you were the only thing coming between my One and me, we'd be doing much better. She thinks I'll leave her for someone easier to deal with, thinks I can't handle her power because Sajans are half-feral.” An annoyed hiss issued from the Guardian. “Maybe she's right—my people have always been wild—but that's a problem for another time.”

Bren's scent called to Farid from down the hall, and he could hear her voice as she spoke to…Tylara. He arched an eyebrow at Johar. “It looks like your troubles are coming to visit you.”

“Yes, I can smell them.” The enormous Guardian climbed to his feet with Farid when the two women entered the room.

“Admiral Belraj.” Johar bowed to Tylara. The two were both in their uniforms, wore high boots and black pants with a single gray stripe down the side, razers strapped to their hips, and tunics wrapped around their chests diagonally to button at the right shoulder, and still the contrast between them was marked. Tylara was a study in self-discipline, with short black hair, her eyes barely sparking despite her great power, her blue tunic perfectly creased with rows of silver embroidered symbols up the sleeves. Johar's braids swung riotously, his eyes flashing, his tunic a brilliant scarlet with a single gold star over his heart. Completely opposite, yet Farid could see how they would complement each other. If they wanted to. He hoped they worked things out.

Tylara's gaze narrowed as she looked at him, and Farid felt a pulse of the anger and frustration that wedged between the two. “Guardian Sajan.”

Bren's eyebrows arched so high Farid would have been unsurprised if they reached her hairline. He sent her a private thought.
Yes, of the same Sajan family as my sister's One. An older brother. Johar Sajan.