Stud (6 page)

Dax, his friend and fellow refugee, didn’t like water, but Tarq had learned to swim as a child on Zetith and he’d spent hours at the beach on Rhylos, loving the way the waves buffeted him about. Tarq enjoyed the freedom of the outdoors and had felt cramped aboard Amelyana’s ship full of refugees. Having to spend his days studying only compounded the misery. He could understand most things if they were explained to him verbally, but reading was pure torture. When Rutger Grekkor—Amelyana’s husband and the man responsible for the destruction of Zetith—had been killed and his considerable assets divided among the remaining few Zetithians, Jerden and Onca had come to him with their idea for a brothel on Rhylos. With money to invest, Tarq had jumped at the chance. At last he could do something he was good at that didn’t require much in the way of brains.

He’d been told repeatedly that his reading disability wasn’t due to a lack of intelligence, but he still felt stupid most of the time. Even on Rhylos, there had been signs to read and menus to decipher. His seductive attitude with waitresses got him through that most of the time, but waiters generally weren’t as responsive and some of them were downright snooty about it.

Smiling as he ran, he remembered Lucy. It had been so easy with her—all of it. Not just suggesting a meal, but making love with her had been a dream come true. She had no expectations, no special requests. She had just gone with it, letting him discover the best ways to pleasure her. He was anxious to return to her, knowing he could do even better the next time.

Sweat was soon pouring from his overheated body and, on impulse, he veered off course, running straight into the sea until the water reached his waist. He loved swimming in the ocean, loved feeling the power of the waves and the way the water swirled between his legs, teasing his genitals. He would have preferred to swim in the nude, but this wasn’t Rhylos and there were children playing nearby, so Tarq kept his pants on. If Lucy had been with him it wouldn’t have mattered; with or without clothing, his penis would have been fully erect, withstanding the force of the water to plunge inside her…

Diving into the waves, he swam the length of the beach and back again, then let himself drift, floating on the waves until he washed up on the sand. He lay at the water’s edge with his eyes closed, letting the waves crash over him and then recede. It was humbling in a way—reminding him that there were forces of nature far stronger than he was.

“You haven’t drowned, have you?”

Tarq opened his eyes to see a Terran child frowning down at him. Her concern was obvious, but her face lit up when he smiled at her. “No, I haven’t drowned.”

“I’m glad,” she said, giggling. “You’re very pretty.”

“So are you.”

Laughing again, she held up a toy shovel. “I’m going to build a sand castle. Would you like to be the king?”

Tarq grinned. He knew the old stories of castles and kings, knights and dragons, having heard them from Amelyana as a child. “I’m not cut out to be a king. I think I’d make a better knight.”

“In shining armor?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. You can be my knight and I’ll be the princess.”

With her auburn curls and bright green eyes, she would make a beautiful princess, Tarq decided. He glanced at her mother, a lovely woman with bright red hair and a shapely body, who nodded her permission. “Climb on my back and we’ll go slay some dragons.”

Rolling over and getting up on his hands and knees, he lowered his head while she straddled his neck. Tarq stood up effortlessly under her light weight and began running through the waves, holding tightly to her ankles while she shouted with laughter. Her delight was infectious, and Tarq felt a freedom of spirit he hadn’t felt since his days in the forests of Zetith.

Unfortunately, this triggered another memory. This child wasn’t much older than Dax had been when Tarq found him wandering alone through the deserted streets of Waynochthia.

Tarq had been up in a tree when the marauders came, leaving death and destruction in their wake. When all was silent at last, Tarq hadn’t needed to enter the wreck of their home to know his family was all dead. He’d turned and walked straight into the forest, always heading in the same direction as if he knew exactly where he was going.

For days he travelled without seeing another living soul. Adept at hunting and fishing and knowing which plants were good to eat, he’d had no trouble keeping himself fed. However, upon his arrival in Waynochthia, a city that was a ghost of its former self, he’d found Dax, starving and terrified, his tears carving a path down his dirty cheeks. Taking the child by the hand, he kept on until they reached the hidden place where Amelyana’s ship was about to depart.

The hatch had opened and he led Dax aboard without question, somehow knowing that this had been his destination from the very beginning. He hadn’t understood why the city was deserted until they reached the outer limits of the solar system and Zetith exploded. He hadn’t seen the asteroid approaching, nor had he known that it was no natural phenomenon, but an act of war.

He knew differently now. He considered the peril that this small child might be in had she been Zetithian. The thought of his own children being murdered brought him up short. Zetith had been destroyed by Amelyana’s insanely jealous husband—a man rich enough to stage a war against an entire world and win.

Almost. He hadn’t succeeded in killing all of them, and Tarq knew he couldn’t let those fears deter him. He had a mission to accomplish.

But he’d forgotten about most of that when he first met Lucy and inhaled her scent. He couldn’t explain why, but his reasons for traveling deserted him, and he wanted nothing more than to stay with her and watch as their children were born and grew up—children that would have her deep brown eyes…

The child’s mother waved and called out. “Saree! You’re going to wear that man out!”

“Are you worn out?” Saree asked.

“Not really. Ready to get down now?”

Saree giggled. “I’d like to keep going, but we do need to build the castle.”

Tarq knelt down and set her on her feet. Saree took him by the hand and led him over to a partially built structure that looked more like hills than a castle. “Your sand needs to be wet, princess,” he observed. “Here, let me show you.”

Spending the next hour or so with Saree had an unexpected effect on Tarq; he was enjoying himself enormously until he realized he’d never played with a child since becoming an adult himself. He had fathered hundreds of children and had never played with any of them. Not one.

His mind had been diverted from thoughts of Lucy by the child’s antics, but this realization brought her back to the forefront with a palpable jolt. She wasn’t even pregnant yet and he was already thinking about playing with their children—except that they probably wouldn’t be girls. Tarq’s tendency to sire males suddenly became a flaw rather than a desirable attribute. To have daughters with eyes like Lucy’s—daughters that he would gladly give his life to protect—would be worth more to him than a thousand males conceived with other women.

This notion hit Tarq with the force of a stun blast as a sense of loss, of utter and complete futility, flooded through him. Lucy would never want him as her mate—he was too stupid and…
used.
No woman would want a man who had been so unselective in the past, would she? Tarq had been with hundreds of women, but he still didn’t completely understand the way their minds worked, with the result that he probably couldn’t predict what she would do or say. Of course, this was assuming that he could ever bring himself to ask the question—if he even knew what the question was.

Saree must have sensed his distress with all the intuition of womanhood, for she paused at her task, gazing at him curiously. “Do you need a nap?” As if suddenly overcome by weariness herself, she yawned.

Tarq chuckled. “I think
you
might be the one who needs a nap.” Glancing up, he saw her mother approaching. “Your mother probably thinks so too.”

Frowning as her mother held out her hand, Saree shook her head but was unable to stifle another huge yawn. “But the castle isn’t finished,” she protested.

“I’ll finish it, princess,” Tarq promised. “It will be waiting for you when you come back.”

Her expression changed to a pout, but there was real fear mixed in. “If the bad king’s soldiers don’t knock it down.”

Tarq thought it sad that even a small child expected the worst, but then he had seen enough horrors to know children were not immune to danger—even in a peaceful village like this. His own home had been very peaceful, until it was invaded.

Tarq didn’t know what to say. “I can’t promise they won’t,” he said finally, “but I’ll finish it anyway.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Saree’s mother said. “She can work on it later.”

Tarq shook his head. “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

What the woman made of that, Tarq never knew, but Saree seemed pleased, which was the only thing that mattered. They lingered for a short time while Tarq went right on building turrets and towers until the castle was waist high—a strong fortress to protect Princess Saree.

In truth, he knew quite well that walls of sand wouldn’t protect anyone, but he hoped Saree had a dad who loved and protected her, not like Lucy’s who made her life miserable—or at least not as happy as it could have been. He desperately wanted to see Lucy again, but he didn’t want to arouse any suspicions, and showing up at their restaurant for every meal would probably do just that.

So wrapped up in thoughts of Lucy and the task at hand, Tarq almost didn’t notice when they left him, or how Saree’s mother had affected him—or, rather, how she
hadn’t
affected him. The scent of her desire was there, but it hadn’t aroused him at all.

***

Lucy got through the day somehow, though her moods swung wildly from elation to irritation to regret to breathless anticipation and back again. The day before had passed slowly, but this one was pure torture. She’d made several blunders but couldn’t explain that she’d been a brainless klutz because all she could think about was seeing Tarq again. Her disappointment that he hadn’t come in for a meal was profound, but she understood why he hadn’t.

Jublansk wasn’t blind, however, and noticed her eager glances toward the door anytime a customer arrived. “Haven’t seen him today, have we?”

Lucy blushed. “Have I been that obvious?”

Jublansk nodded. “You’re about as subtle as a Twilanan’s tusk. Don’t blame you for looking, of course. He’s a mighty fine man. But you might want to consider doing more than just mooning over him.”

“I’m not mooning!” Lucy knew her protest was feeble, and Jublansk’s skeptical expression proved it.

“Seems like a golden opportunity for you to have a little fun,” Jublansk said briskly.
“I’d
certainly never tell.”

“You’ve been giving this some thought.”

“I have,” she said with a nod. “And I think you’d have fun and be doing a good deed in the process. Plus, the kids would be adorable.”

Lucy couldn’t believe her ears. “So you’re saying I should call him?”

Jublansk waved her floury hands in protest. “I’m not saying anything of the kind, but if I were you and
didn’t
call him, I’d be kicking myself in the ass for the rest of my life.”

Since this was in complete accord with Lucy’s own thoughts on the subject, she started to nod, but shook her head instead. No. There should be no clues, no inkling, no hints. She didn’t want Jublansk to get into any trouble over this—perhaps even losing her job if her father was angry enough. The less she knew the better. “I’d be too chicken. He’s too much…
man
for me.”

Jublansk rolled her eyes. “That’s like saying the ocean is too big for this planet, or the sun isn’t the right size for the solar system.” She shook her head. “No, Lucy. He is what he is and you are what you are. Don’t sell yourself short.”

“Yeah, right,” Lucy grumbled. “Whatever
that
means.”

At long last, she was home for the night. Closing her bedroom door and locking it, she took a deep breath, shivering with anticipation, but couldn’t help bowing her head in sadness as she whispered a fervent prayer. If only she could have had Tarq for real—in broad daylight and with full knowledge of everyone—not clandestine meetings in a locked room after dark. She wanted her fertile period to come quickly so that he could move on and she could forget him—forget the way he made her feel, the things he made her want…

Quickly changing into her nightgown, she doused the light and opened the window. It might have made her feel better to know that Tarq was already waiting for her, but his prompt entry was such a welcome event that she never gave it a thought; she only felt intense relief at the sight of him.

He swept her up in his arms in a manner that spoke of his own impatience, but the tears in Lucy’s eyes kept her from seeing it. She only felt the heat of his body, the soft warmth of his kisses, and the security of his embrace. As he lay her on the bed, he whispered words she didn’t understand, which made her feel even more fulfilled, for she was free to imagine that he was telling her how he’d missed her, that he’d counted the seconds until they could be together again, and that the day had been every bit as interminable for him as it had been for her.