Shades of Gray (102 page)

“How can you be losing when you’re playing against yourself?” she asked, intrigued, as she stepped into the room and walked over to see what he was doing.

“It’s a game called Patience. You play against yourself and try to match runs of cards,” he said, gesturing at the cards lying on the low table. “Carrie taught me.”

She sat down. “You’ll have to explain it to me sometime. I can’t really keep my mind on anything for long right now.”

He nodded and sat down beside her. “I understand. You’ve been through an awful experience; you need time to relax and get over it.”

“That’s just it,” she said hesitantly. “I can’t remember much about it. It’s like there’re holes in my memory.”

She saw understanding dawn in Zsurtul’s eyes before he quickly looked away.

“I was going to make some maush to help me sleep. Would you like some?” he asked.

“Do you know something about this?” she asked sharply.

“No,” he said, looking back at her. “I honestly don’t know anything about any missing memories. Perhaps they’ll come back to you in time.”

“I have marks on me, scars,” she said, pulling back her sleeve and showing him her wrist. “What caused these?” she demanded.

He took her wrist in his hand, looking at it, then her. “I don’t know,” he said gently. “I only know you were taken prisoner, Zhalmo. K’hedduk was known for his brutality when he was on K’oish’ik, so it’s not surprising you have injuries.” He raised her wrist and pressed it gently to his lips, never taking his eyes from her face. “I think it’s a blessing your mind has chosen to forget what happened to you there,” he said, returning her arm to her lap but letting his fingers slip down to her hand to hold it. “Do you remember anything from before your capture?”

Her eyes took on a faraway look for a moment. “Yes. I remember seeing you get shot,” she said, taking her hand away from his and reaching out to touch his chest, feeling the bandage still there.

A look of horror crossed her face, and she began to pull at his shirt, ripping it open till she saw for herself how small the dressing was. Not content, she pushed him this way and that, examining his side, seeing the pale new skin above and below the bandage.

“I saw him shoot you in the side, saw your suit damaged, the foam sealant covering the part of your suit that his shot blew away. You should be dead!” She was trembling all over, her face almost chalk white.

Amused at her till now, Zsurtul turned serious again and grasped hold of her hands, holding them still. “I’m all right, Zhalmo. Kusac saved me,” he said. “Without him, I would have died.”

“I thought you were dead!” she said, tears running down her face. “That there was nothing left for me to live for!”

“Zhalmo . . .” He pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “When I heard you’d been captured, I thought there was nothing to live for either,” he whispered, covering her cheek with small kisses as her hands clutched at his sides frantically. “But I had to go on for the sake of my people. Then Kusac said he’d go to M’zull and bring you back . . . I had to come, had to see you as soon as you were recovered.”

“You’re here because of me?” she asked, raising her face to his.

“Why else would I be here?” He stroked her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “Now I have you back, I swear I won’t let you out of my sight again.”

“I don’t think I’ll be fit to be your bodyguard for a while yet,” she said uncertainly.

“I had hoped you’d play a different role in my life.”

A look of confusion came over her face.

“I began to fall in love with you as a soldier,” he said, “but the female you are right now is even more lovely. I love you, Zhalmo, and I want to marry you.”

She looked down at his chest, her fingers tracing what showed of his Royal tattoo above the bandage circling his ribs. “But you’re King now.”

“Not right now. Right at this moment I’m just the male who loves you and who thought he’d lost you forever,” he said, tilting her face up to his and gently kissing her.

She hesitated then responded, her hands slipping under his shirt to caress him.

After a few minutes, he gently pushed her back. “You should go back to bed and rest, Zhalmo,” he said, his voice not quite steady. “I love you, and I don’t want this to go further tonight when you’re still not well.”

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” she whispered, laying her head on his chest. “There are things I don’t understand haunting my sleep.”

“You need to rest and get well,” he said, stroking her head.

“Then I’ll sleep with you. You’ll keep me safe from the shadows,” she said, turning her head and kissing his skin just above the bandage.

He shuddered with pleasure. “You don’t know how much I want that, but it’s too soon for you. I need you to be sure it’s what you want.”

“If I promise to sleep?” she asked, her tongue flicking across him. “I don’t want to sleep alone, Zsurtul. Please.”

“Better there than here,” he murmured, reaching down to pull her face up to kiss her again. “Only sleep, nothing else,” he said.

She slid back to her place on the sofa, letting him get up and try to tuck his shirt back into his trousers. He gave up on buttoning it again and reached out to help her to her feet.

 

His room was next to the mess, and though it boasted a double bed like her room, it had no private shower and bathroom. The bedside lamp cast a gentle glow on the room as he pulled back the bedding for her.

“I’ll sleep in the chair,” he said, turning back to her. “You have the bed.”

She shook her head, staying near the door. “I don’t want to sleep alone. I want to be with you.”

“Zhalmo . . .”

“Please. I need you,” she said, folding her arms across her body and beginning to shiver. “I’m afraid to sleep alone.”

He was at her side in an instant, drawing her over to the bed. “You’ll be the undoing of me, you know,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly until her shivering stopped. When it did, he let her go.

“You first,” he said, gesturing to the bed.

She reached out and tugged at his shirt. “Take it off,” she said. “I need to feel you, not your clothes.”

He groaned inwardly. This was more than male flesh could stand, but he began to shrug himself out of his shirt, wincing as he pulled his almost healed wound. She helped him, and, somehow, it was just natural for him to help her take off her shirt and pants. He did it slowly, with kisses, drinking in the sight of her for the first time.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his hands barely touching her shoulders as she pressed herself against him and then slipped into the bed.

Reaching for the light, he turned it off before shedding his own pants, aware she’d find out soon enough just how much he wanted her. He slid in beside her, pulling the covers over them, waiting for her to move closer. She curled up against his side, one leg going across him as he slipped an arm under her neck and drew her close. Cushioning her head just below his shoulder, she tucked her arm across his chest and sighed contentedly.

“You haven’t said you’ll marry me,” he said, trying to keep his tone light as his tongue flicked over her ear. He wanted her so much it hurt, but he wanted even more not to scare her, to bring back the awful memories that he knew Kusac had taken from her.

“I love you, Zsurtul,” she whispered. “We belong together. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

“I’m glad, because I told your father I would marry you.”

“You did? What did he say?” she asked, astonished.

“He didn’t object,” he said, trying hard to stop his hand from straying down to her back. “Now sleep, Zhalmo,” he said, kissing her forehead. “It’s been a very long day for both of us.”

“You sure you want to sleep?” she murmured, letting her leg move lower till it was touching his erection.

“No, but we’re going to,” he said firmly, pulling her leg back up across his belly. “I told you, I love you. I want our first time together to be special, even if we wait till our wedding night.” He tried to not think what could happen to them if her memories of being raped surfaced this early in their new relationship.

“You, my King, are special,” she said, reaching up to kiss him. “I’ve never met anyone as honorable as you.” She turned around so her back was to him. “I think I’ll be able to sleep now,” she said, reaching her hand back to touch him.

“I’m glad,” he said, turning around himself to curl up against her and draw her close. He knew that he’d also be able to sleep, knowing he held what was most dear to him in his arms. “Sleep well, my love. I’ll be here when you wake, I promise.”

Kusac was plunged into a world of chaos, of raised voices and the sound of construction vehicles. He was back in the underground Palace. Staying against the wall of the side tunnel he was in, he looked out into the cavern and saw just how much damage the MUTAC had caused.

There were craters of various sizes all over the floor. Rubble was being dragged from the tunnel entrances and piled there for the earthmovers to collect and dump into low trucks. Males in every kind of uniform, his included, were scurrying about, intent on their own business.

Hurriedly he began to take off his padded jacket, only to find he was clutching a small device in one hand. About the size of a pack of stim twigs, it had two recessed buttons and a dial on the face. Unbidden, the information that it was the translocater that had brought him here came to his mind, as did the knowledge of how to use it to return to their mountain cave.

Thrusting it into the thigh pocket of his pants, he folded his jacket up and began to walk briskly into the cavern, toward an exit on the far side.

He was aware of the compulsion driving him onward in that direction, but he was also curious to find out why it was so important to Annuur and his TeLaxaudin allies that he come here.

No one stopped him or even queried his presence, though one or two ordinary soldiers suddenly ground to a halt in front of him and threw him a salute before scurrying off. Obviously his uniform color meant he was a high-ranking officer.

The tunnel he was approaching was clear of rubble; in fact, it was set back enough from the main cavern that it wouldn’t have been seen by the MUTAC. Driven though he was, he was still in control of his own actions and was able to keep all his senses extended watching for trouble.

He headed down the tunnel, stopping at the first doorway to look inside. It was a lab of some kind, with workbenches and various machines and equipment whose uses he couldn’t even guess. Closing the door, he continued down the corridor, picking another empty room at random and glancing in there. Once again, it was a laboratory of some kind.

He sensed the room he needed was just around the bend in the corridor—where two guards stood on duty. Slowing briefly, he slipped his knife out of its sheath and held it blade upward, concealed against his forearm as he turned the corridor.

The guards snapped to attention, rifles going down to the floor and hands up to to salute him.

“Commander,” they said.

Kusac sketched a salute back at them and held out his hand imperiously. “Key,” he said.

“You can’t go in there, sir,” said one nervously, keeping his eyes trained straight in front of him. “If you was entitled to go in, you’d have your own key.”

“I left it in my quarters,” he said. “Open the door and be quick about it! I haven’t got all night, even if you have!”

The second guard risked a glance at his companion. “We can’t, sir. Be more than our lives was worth if we let anyone in without their own key.”

“Your caution is commendable, but you’re being a damned nuisance to me right now,” he said, right hand flashing out and slicing the throat of the first guard in a move almost too fast to see, while his left punched the other in the throat over the larynx. That guard dropped his rifle, clutching his throat and gasping for air as his companion slumped bonelessly to the floor.

Bending down, he searched the gasping one’s pockets for the key card. Straightening up, he slipped it through the reader. The door open, and he hauled both guards inside, ripping the shirt off one to swab the blood off the dirty stone floor outside.

Closing the door, he wiped his knife off on the rag before slipping it back in its sheath and taking stock of this room.

The doorway here was a lot wider than the ones into the other labs, and this was echoed in the broad passageway leading toward the benches and a metal door at the far end. There were drag marks, scored deep into the concrete floor, and he bent down to examine them. He could sense particles of metal there that had been scraped off the heavy object that had been brought in here—a metal unlike any they had come across the M’zullians using so far. In fact, it was unlike any he knew.

Standing up, he walked around the benches, pausing to look at the control panels and screens that seemed to predominate here. What was so important that it necessitated a locked door and guards? Moving on, he approached the wide metal door at the other end of the room. Whatever it was he sought, it was behind this door.