Thieves In Paradise (11 page)

Long after A'Kosu'an left, Kol lay in his bed cursing his visions.

Until this mission he'd always considered them a gift. The Antarean colonists had found ways to extend their life spans and ensure good health. They'd bred the visions into their warriors to aid in battle and into their leaders in hopes they would be able to see the outcome of political decisions. The mating bond had assured loyalty among couples to strengthen bloodlines and keep families strong.

Today these gifts seemed like curses, not because he didn't long for Charity's touch, her unique taste and scent and the feel of her supple body in his arms, but because he could not justify the pain she would suffer if the Elders forced her to leave Antares.

He'd read of cases where the mating bond could be severed by less drastic means than the ritual betrayal enacted before the Council. Breaking the bond would bring its own brand of shame to his lineage, but at least Charity would be free to leave the compound and escape Gar Gremin's wrath.

Kol tossed and turned and his stomach knotted. Sweat drenched him, making the thin sheets of his bed cling to his body.

He saw her standing before him in the darkness, her body nothing more than a silhouette. He sensed her reach for him and his body responded, readying for her, hardening in anticipation of plunging in to her willing heat.

Her voice echoed in his mind.
"Tie me up again before you do it, just do it!"

He couldn't deny her or himself any longer. He took her eagerly and with no thought to the consequences. The ecstasy of sinking his aching sex into her body replaced all logical thought and each thrust brought him closer to the relief he'd been begging for all day.

He woke gasping. His right hand, clenched around his still pulsing cock, was sticky with his own release. His body trembled with the force of it, and still his gut ached for her.

Charity braced herself on the ornate door jamb outside of Kol's quarters. Had she been in better condition, she might have been able to appreciate the intricate Antarean architecture and the sense of aesthetics and efficiency with which the tribal village had been constructed.

Unfortunately the short walk at dawn through the pastoral gardens and serene landscapes from the infirmary to Kol's quarters had been made in haste and terrible discomfort. A'Kosu'an had left Charity on Kol's doorstep, like a discarded waif.

"The Council has deemed you A'Kosu'ri's legal and moral responsibility,” the Antarean woman had said. “He must care for you until they conclude their investigation."

Charity might have questioned A'Kosu'an, but it was all she could do to remain upright. She forced a long, determined breath out between clenched teeth and rapped on Kol's heavy wooden door.

When the door swung open finally, Charity managed a tight smile. At least Kol had the decency to look as bad as she ...
had
felt just a moment ago.

The sudden absence of pain staggered her and she wobbled. Kol caught her, but rather than scoop her up in his arms, he merely set her on her feet and glared at her. “You should have stayed away."

Charity growled and pushed past him into the luxurious suite he called home. Lightheaded with relief, she couldn't decide if she wanted to dance, or kick his tight Antarean ass into next week.

"Can you please explain to me how I can feel a thousand percent better than I did a minute ago? I've been in agony all night long and they tell me it's your fault.” She stabbed a finger into his brawny chest. “Goddess help me, if you don't give me some answers that make sense, I will not be held responsible for what I do to you."

Kol let out a breath and lowered himself to an overstuffed chair. Charity glanced around at the décor, which was palatial and masculine. The dark walls had a rich appearance. Heavy accents of color hung here and there amid the lacquer furniture. On a raised platform sat a huge square bed topped with a tangle of bright white sheets. He'd had a rough night, too, apparently.

"How can just seeing you make the pain go away?"

"The mating bond is controlled by a retrovirus introduced into the Antarean bloodlines ten generations ago.” His reply was stiff and instructional. He didn't meet her gaze.

"So you gave me a
virus
?” Her lips clenched. A'Kosu'an had conveniently left that part out.

"Yes, but not intentionally. The mating bond isn't supposed to cross species, or even tribes."

Something about that didn't sit right with Charity, but the joy of being without the persistent pain in her belly dulled her anger a bit. She lowered herself to the edge of the bed and leaned back on her elbows, appraising Kol from across the room. “Well, something went wrong. Now what happens? We get sick
every
time we're apart?"

"Only in the beginning. The effect grows more manageable over time, but the psychological result is to ingrain in our minds a need to be together to ensure ... propagation."

"Propa ... but we
can't
get pregnant together. Right?"

"No."

Charity squinted at him in the dimness. “No we can't or no, I'm wrong?"

"No, we can't."

"Well, we weren't supposed to have a mating bond either, were we?"

Kol shook his head. He leaned forward and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands for a moment. Rather than anger, Charity felt sympathy and a deep affection for him. She wanted to go to him and touch him, to run her hands over his shoulders and down the lean lines of his back.

"Ummm. Does this also mean we're going to have sex every time we're alone, too?"

"No.” He rose, his spine stiff, jaw set. “That would solidify the bond. As uncomfortable as it is, we should stay away from each other and hope the effect wears down."

"What? And go through that kind of pain again? I don't think I can. I was shot—” She lifted the hem of her shirt to show off her bandage. “And that pales in comparison."

"We cannot have sex. We
can
stay in the same area, and just avoid physical contact."

"That's fine with me.” She threw herself back into the soft sheets. “I'm going to avoid you by going back to sleep. I was up all night and I'm exhausted. Why don't you call A'Kosu'an and find out if there's some kind of vaccine we can take to kill this retrovirus before things get really unbearable."

Kol stared at her for a moment as if she were some type of bug in a jar. Finally, he turned on his heel and strode away, tossing a final, biting comment over his shoulder. “Things already are unbearable."

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Hot water cascaded over Kol's head, drowning his thoughts and calming his nerves. While his bond mate slept, he'd done as she suggested and searched the medical archives for alternatives to the separation ritual. He'd found nothing useful.

He'd walked around the garden beyond his bedroom, putting as much distance as he dared between them and still he'd ended up at the foot of the bed, contemplating the curve of her thigh that peeked out amid folds of the white sheets. His cock had stirred at the memory of his last vision of her. Or had that been a dream? He couldn't distinguish one from the other anymore. Before his desires got the best of him, he'd locked himself in the shower.

First cold water doused his rising heat, then hot soothed his tired body. When he finished here, he'd wake her and explain the ritual. Charity was strong and she was no stranger to hardship or pain. She might welcome any chance to break this unnatural bond, even if it meant more physical discomfort.

The next vision slammed into his senses, stronger and more feral than any that had come before. His knees buckled and he braced an arm against the wall to hold himself upright while ghostly images swam around him.

She clung to him, and sweat drenched their bodies. He'd just climaxed and still his seed pumped within her. Her wide, golden eyes held him transfixed while she whispered his name ... then the thunder of an explosion rocked them. They tumbled together, gripped by fear, and the startled cries of his tribe mates filled the air. Somewhere, a battle claxon sounded, rending the stillness of a pleasant afternoon, and then everything went dark.

He came back to himself with Charity standing over him. She looked soft and sleepy and her tawny eyes were full of concern.

"How did you get in here?” He waved away her offer of assistance and pulled himself up from the cold tiles. He didn't remember sinking to the floor, but the shock of the terrible vision must have brought him to his knees.

"There's an emergency override on the bathroom lock,” she said. “I heard a sound and I thought you'd slipped in the shower or something."

"I'm fine. You can go back to sleep.” He wanted her out of his sight before his raging desires took over. The vision had cured nothing. He'd seen destruction and terror, yet still he wanted her in his arms.

"I think we need to talk. Unless we find a way to cure this retrovirus, we're going to be stuck together, aren't we? We're going to become dependent on each other."

He nodded. He was already dependent on her. His next breath, his next heartbeat depended on her nearness. “It was a mistake. It was not supposed to happen."

"I get that.” She seemed displeased, almost hurt. She turned her face up, studied the ceiling and crossed her arms over her chest. “I don't want to feel this way and I'm sure you don't either. So what do we need to do about it?"

The knock on his door came quietly, but it startled him nevertheless. He pushed past Charity, grabbing a towel to cover himself as he headed for the door.

A'Kosu'an stood outside in the dappled moonlight. Her expression told him more than he wanted to know. “The Elders have spoken to the authorities on Valencia and on Celrax and they've made their decision. They would like to see you both now."

"If the news was good they would not be calling a meeting in the middle of the night."

His tribe mate lowered her eyes and studied the tiles beneath her feet. “I only know what they have asked me to tell you. They are waiting."

Kol nodded and shut the door. They would continue to wait until he was ready to see them.

The night breeze stirred the fine hairs on the back of her neck and Charity shivered. Kol walked beside her, his pace slow and deliberate, as they made their way from his quarters to the multi-tiered building the A'Kosu called their Great House.

Much of Antarean architecture was inspired by the Asian cultures of Earth, and nowhere was this influence more apparent than in the sliding panels and highly polished floors of the Great House. Tall, slender pillar candles lit their way through the entry hall and dim electric lights took the place of open flames in the Council meeting room.

Never in her life had Charity felt more like a criminal than she did at this moment. When Kol ushered her inside the sparsely decorated, dark-paneled room, and she faced the disapproving stares of the seven A'Kosu elders, she felt naked and a little bit dirty, as if she'd stolen something from
them
, rather than from Gar Gremin.

An old man with long white hair, wearing dark blue robes stepped down from the curving podium. Kol and Charity took their places at the center of the room as he approached them. When he stepped forward to face her and sketched quick bow, she saw sympathy in his eyes.

"You may call me A'Kosu'ban, which means Second Elder. I have been chosen to say that we are grateful to have been able to treat your injury and that we trust you are well this evening."

Kol nudged her and Charity nodded. “I am. Thank you for helping me."

"I am told you call yourself by the name Charity-Foster and that you share this name with others. May we call you thus?"

"You may."

"We have reached a decision."

Kol stiffened beside her and his fingers sought hers.

"I don't recall asking you to make any decisions on my behalf,” she said, careful to keep both her gaze and her voice from wavering.

The Second Elder favored her with an indulgent smile. “No, you did not. The decision involves A'Kosu'ri's request that you remain here under our protection rather than be turned over to the Valencian government."

"Valencia is governed by a lying, cheating son of a—"

A'Kosu'ban held up a hand. “Well, while that may be true, Valencia is governed, nevertheless. And the A'Kosu tribe contracted with the Magistrate of Valencia for the services of a bounty hunter, whose mission was to capture a thief. To fulfill that contract, the thief must be remanded into the custody of Valencian authorities. While we sympathize with the plight of those on Celrax and other colonies on the Galactic Rim, we have received no formal confirmation that you acted in the interest of those colonies and not strictly for personal gain when you appropriated one half kilogram of selenite crystals from Magistrate Gremin's storehouse."

"Of course they won't confirm I was working for them. I wasn't. I'm working for the colonists. If the government on Celrax cared about the people there, they'd be fighting Gremin themselves."

A'Kosu'ban held up one wrinkled hand and Kol dug his fingernails into her palm at the same moment, silencing her. Obviously this was no time for a rant against the illustriously inept Celraxian government.

Reluctantly, Charity held her tongue.

"I personally do not doubt you, Charity-Foster. But my vote is only one of seven, and I have been overruled. It is our decision that you must be turned over to the Valencian government when their representatives arrive on the day after tomorrow. It would behoove you both to break your mating bond before that time."

"Break it?” Charity whirled around and glared at Kol. “You didn't tell me it could be broken! Not that it matters because what the Valencians might not have mentioned is that they're going to execute me. Probably over the course of several excruciating months."

One of the seated elders interrupted Charity's rant by tapping a silver bell. The sharp clang silenced everyone and all attention turned to the single female who sat at one end of the podium wrapped in golden yellow robes.